For the Coming Generations That We Don’t See Yet 

Spring 2026, FORUM Magazine

THE FUTURE IS SOMETHING WE BUILD before we ever arrive there. It is created through the choices we make today, the stories we tell, and the ways we choose to care for one another. I remember being a child learning about the history of my people. I remember searching for more on my own, wanting to understand where we came from and what our ancestors endured. When I looked at the pictures and read the stories, I often saw faces that looked stoic and serious. Faces carrying the weight of survival, loss, and resilience. I understood why those stories were told that way, but something always felt missing. I knew there had been hardship. I knew there had been harm. But I also knew there had been joy. There had been laughter, songs, celebrations, family, connection, and love. There had been people who found ways to live fully even when the world tried to take that from them. I wondered why the joy was not always shown. Why were we so often remembered through the pain, but not always through the moments of happiness, humor, and love that also carried our people forward?

Even today, we are still seeing many of the same themes continue. I see harmful comments and stereotypes directed toward my children. I see the impacts of trauma continue to affect our youth and our elders. I see how the wounds created generations ago can still show up in the lives of our families and communities. But I also know that generational trauma can be broken. Not all at once. Not with one moment or one conversation. It is broken brick by brick, with intention and care. It is broken through the way we raise our children. It is broken through the stories we choose to share. It is broken through reconnecting with culture, community, and the parts of ourselves that were never meant to be lost.

I also believe that healing means making space for more than just our pain. I want to hear more laughter. I want to see more joy. I want to see more stories shared about the moments that made our people smile, the moments that brought families together, and the moments that reminded us why life is worth celebrating. So often, even in professional learning, cultural conversations, and community spaces, we focus on trauma, loss, and the hardships our people have endured. Those stories are important. They need to be honored and remembered. But they are not the only stories we carry. Storytelling is also about joy and the funny stories our grandparents told. It is about the memories that make us laugh until we cry. It is about celebrations, family gatherings, dancing, food, songs, and the everyday moments that show the fullness of who we are. Joy is not separate from our history. Joy is part of our survival. Joy is part of our strength.

I do not raise my children perfectly. I have made mistakes and have learned along the way. Motherhood has taught me that there is no perfect path, only the commitment to keep showing up. But one thing I know for certain is that my children will always know where they come from. They will know the history, the struggles, the harms that stood in our way, and the ones that still exist today. They will also know the strength, the love, and the joy that have always existed alongside those struggles. I want them to understand that life is meant to be lived fully. That love and community matter. That providing for others and caring for the people around you is part of who we are. I want them to know that their identity is not defined only by what happened to our people, but also by what our people created, protected, and carried forward. I want my children to understand that loving where you come from does not mean you stop asking questions. Culture, family, and community are living things. They grow when we are willing to listen, learn, and sometimes challenge the things we have always known.

I want my children to feel safe asking why. I want them to understand where traditions come from, why people believe what they believe, and how those beliefs have shaped the world around them. I want them to learn how to listen to understand, not just listen to respond. I also want them to recognize that people are complex and everyone carries their own experiences, but I want them to understand that love, respect, and care for others cannot be conditional.

There are times when beliefs, whether political, religious, or cultural, can be used to justify harm or create separation. I want my children to know that no belief system makes it acceptable to take away someone’s humanity. There is no reason that allows hate toward another person to become okay. Our values must always come back to love, joy, respect, and the way we treat one another. They do not have to fit into a box that creates a lock and key for their soul. They get to learn. They get to grow. They get to decide who they want to be. And I get to stand beside them, support them, and remind them that they are loved through every part of that journey.

The future I imagine is one where culture is not something we only visit or participate in occasionally. It is something we live so deeply that it becomes a normal part of everyday life. It is in our conversations, our celebrations, our relationships, and the way we care for one another. One of the greatest gifts I have been given is learning from my grandparents. Their stories, their presence, and the way they lived shaped me in ways I continue to understand. My children have had that same gift with their grandparents. They have been able to learn, listen, ask questions, and build relationships that will become part of their own stories.

One of my favorite parts is watching them process what they learn during our nightly conversations at the edge of my bed. They bring questions, stories, and thoughts from their day. Sometimes we talk about family. Sometimes we talk about culture. Sometimes we talk about the challenges of life and the emotions that come with them. Those moments remind me that healing does not happen alone. It happens in relationship.

The roadblocks and hardships we experience, including the moments that impact our mental health, are things we learn to work through together. Recently, we have experienced medical challenges that made us feel more disconnected from others and from the community around us. As we begin stepping back into those spaces, we are learning together how to reconnect, how to rebuild, and how to continue creating a future rooted in hope. I am grateful for the honor of being a mother who gets to learn from my children. I get to know who they are becoming. They will never have to question whether I love them because of political beliefs, religious beliefs, or whether they fit into someone else’s idea of who they should be.

They will know love, joy, community, and respect.

When I think about the future, I think about the many parents who are doing the same work. Parents who are taking what they have learned, breaking the silence, healing what they can, and creating healthier families and stronger communities. It may not always feel like progress is happening. The work may feel slow. But every conversation, every connection, and every act of love is another brick placed in the foundation of something better.

I believe the future is kind. The future is loving. The future is full of joy.

Because the stories we choose to tell today become the foundation our children will stand on tomorrow. ■

Brianna Gray (2026 FORUM Storytelling Fellow)is originally from King Cove, Alaska, and now resides in North Pole. She is the granddaughter of the late Lydia and Ernest William Mack of King Cove. And the daughter of Dorene Bunch Mack, Lavelle Webb, Chris Bunch, and Silvia Webb. Bri is an Aunty, community leader and Educator who believes in the power of storytelling, relationships, and culture to bring people together. In her work and community life, she centers joy, laughter, and respect as sources of resilience and strength. She is the proud mother of two children, Aaliyah and LaCross III, and shares her home with two cats, Lightening and Beauty.