Reflections from the University of Miami’s Human Rights in the Americas Symposium
By Saba Ghori, Center for Global Rights for Women at BWJP In November 2025, I had the privilege of representing…
By Esther Aparicio, Diana Griffin, Sharonna Lee
Across our BWJP community, survivors are powerfully reshaping the season into something that finally feels like safety, choice, and peace. And we hope you know, you deserve nothing less. Your stories and theirs remind us that reclaiming the holidays doesn’t always happen in one grand moment. It can start with small acts of courage, creativity, and self-love.
For one survivor, that moment came right after experiencing her final incident of domestic violence in October, a time when the world was already preparing for a season of togetherness. “I wanted a new beginning for my son and me,” she shared. So they created a tradition that was theirs alone: crafting paper ornaments, writing their holiday wishes on them, and hanging them on the tree. Each day from Thanksgiving to New Year’s, they pulled down one ornament and read the wish aloud. “It became the most beautiful core memory ever,” she said, not because it was elaborate, but because it was intentional, healing, and simply theirs.
Some survivors have chosen to keep familiar traditions intact, especially when they were the ones who carried them in the first place. “I kept most of our traditions the same,” one explained. “Continuing them helped keep things familiar for the kids.” Healing happened not through reinvention but through warmth, togetherness, and laughter returning in small waves.
For another survivor, the shift began with estrangement from her family, a break that was painful but necessary. Through that doorway opened something new: holidays woven with chosen family, softness, and safety. “I am surrounded by love and light and laughter from my chosen family members,” she said. “Unlike how I grew up.” Her holidays are now anchored by choice, not obligation.
What survivors described again and again was a feeling of freedom; a freedom that comes from shaping the season without pressure, perfection, or fear. One survivor said, “I do what I want now… twinkly lights all over the house, candles after work, endless cups of tea, cozy blankets. It makes me happy.” Happiness, she discovered, is allowed to be simple.
Survivors also shared the rituals that bring comfort: intentional gift giving, game nights full of laughter, holiday music in the kitchen, crackling fires, matching pajamas, bay leaves burned for luck and intentions. And sometimes, healing looks like escaping altogether. “My godmom and I spend the holidays in a cabin,” one survivor shared. “It’s peaceful to disconnect and just be present with someone I love.”
For anyone still navigating painful memories, survivors offered gentle advice: “Sit with the feelings and let them pass through.” “Give yourself the time you need - your well-being matters.” “Try new traditions without pressure; the simplest moments may become the most peaceful memories.” “Give yourself permission to grieve. It gets easier. You will be happy again.”
The holidays may never look the way they once did, and maybe that’s the gift. Little by little, tradition by tradition, you are stitching together seasons filled with safety, new memories, and joy.
A season that finally feels like belonging.
A season that feels like peace.
A season that feels quietly, comfortably, like your own.
Thank you to everyone who shared their stories and ideas for this newsletter.
To all survivors, BWJP wishes you safety, comfort, and moments of peace throughout the holidays and into the new year. However you spend this time, please know that you’re supported and not alone.