Kyndra Frazier is a spiritual activist and community healer. She is one of those dynamic people who has accomplished an astounding amount in just 40 years of life. Her work encompasses mental health and wellness, spiritual direction, and trauma-informed trainings through her firm KYND Consulting, Inc. She is an ordained clergywoman and a licensed social worker. Kyndra was recognized by the Root 100 as one of the Most Influential African Americans in 2020 for breaking down barriers and paving the way for future generations in the field of mental health.
As the founding Executive Director of HOPE Center Harlem, she created mental health access for communities of color and LGBTQ+ folks. The American Psychiatric Association recognized her for this work with an Achievement Award for Innovation. Kyndra is the co-producer and co-director of the forthcoming docuseries, A Love Supreme: Black, Queer, and Christian in the South, and has co-authored two books, I Wish My Dad: The Power of Vulnerable Conversations Between Fathers and Sons, with Romal Tune, and Taking on the Cross: Reimagining the Meaning of Jesus’s Life and Death. She has been featured in multiple print and digital publications including Vice Magazine, the New York Times, and Sojourners Magazine.
When Kyndra and I sat down for this conversation in early September, she in North Carolina and me in Oakland, we began with some personal catching up, taking the pulse of one another’s well-being in difficult times. That centering in relationship, in our joys and our struggles – in our wholeness – is fundamental to how Kyndra engages all that she does.
As we turn our attention toward the interview, I begin by asking what comes to mind when she hears the title of this project, Healing Conversations from the Front Lines of Activism. Her response really sets the tone for all that follows. “I think the front lines always start with you,” she says. “They start with your intrapersonal relationship with yourself, and how you're treating yourself, how you prioritize your own wellness and wholeness. There are so many activists that I've sat with as a spiritual leader, that I've sat with as a therapist, who are doing this work depleted, because they can't seem to prioritize the time for themselves as they confront all of the ‘-isms’ in the world and address so many injustices.
“When we think about activism, we often think externally, about those that we are standing on the front lines for. But the first thing I think of when I hear this title, is how do I stand on the front lines of my own activism for self, because I believe how I advocate and do the work on my own behalf – and my intentionality around my own healing, wholeness, and integration – overflows into the work of larger macro-level activism, where we're talking about care and justice for others.”
She adds, “I think my other form of activism lately has been supporting organizations in being able to see the limitations in their understanding through a trauma informed lens. To guide them in creating a culture of belonging in their context, and being more integrity-filled with how they practice what they teach and what they preach.”
For Kyndra, there is no separation between her activism and her work as a counselor and a minister. That process of accompanying people through their pain toward seeing themselves as both more whole and more holy, as she puts it, is a “front line” that she regularly occupies. We reflect together on the powerful interrelationship between the microcosm of our personal wounds and the macrocosm of systemic, ancestral, and historical trauma. I ask how that intersection shows up in her own life and work, and if there are any pearls she has gleaned that might be helpful to others.
She is quiet a moment before answering, and then leans in, “I think of the social psychologist, Kipling Williams. His research on chronic invisibility and social ostracism identified four basic human needs. They are our sense of belonging, we all want to belong to somebody, to something. The second one is a meaningful existence, we all want to feel like we have purpose. The third is some sense of control, whether that is controlling our own narrative, or having control in our environments. And the last one is having a healthy self-esteem, thinking of ourselves in ways that are worthy.”
She continues, “for me, trauma is any life-threatening event that disrupts one's sense of belonging to themselves and/or their communities. My definition of trauma is really basic, because I believe that so many of us, particularly communities of color, can miss that we've been traumatized, because what we experience in terms of crises and injustice is so normalized. I want to curate spaces of not only safety, but thriving. How do we bring all of ourselves into our workplaces, into our spiritual communities, into our families and relationships, so we can all show up wholly and as the holy essence that we are. I believe that in order for the world to be healed, and justice to be realized, we must heal the way that we see ourselves and see each other.” As she speaks, I can feel the passion – and compassion – that makes her effective as both a counselor and a trainer.
I ask Kyndra what wisdom she would share with folks who are newer to activism, or that she wishes she had known earlier in her own life. What had she learned on her journey, that she would want to go back and tell her younger self?
“There are two things that come to mind,” she replies. “The first is that there is no linear pathway into activism. All of our paths look differently; there is no such thing as where you “should” be. Where you are is exactly where you're meant to be to learn what you need to learn in this point of your evolutionary journey, to catapult you into your next. I wish that my younger self would have known that. I think that I would have been less hurried. I would have been more present in some of the opportunities that I’ve had.
“The second thing is to remember that those who hold titles are not above you, nor are they beneath you. They share in your humanity. I think that if I would have recognized that at some of my positions earlier in life, I would have been less hurt, and maybe even less harmed.”
Given the intensity of her specialty in working with trauma, I’m curious about what sustains her. Kyndra smiles as she answers with certainty: “Play and pleasure.” She tells me about her four-year-old twin nephews, and how they remind her of the necessity of play, of meeting life with a sense of buoyancy and flexibility, and even humor. She says, “I think there’s a way that things can happen in our lives where we can be so serious, that there is no movement, and no flexibility in how we're seeing a thing or how we're perceiving a thing. So play has become really important for me, even if that means going to a playground and getting on a swing and swinging. Just the opportunity to move. Movement not only helps me physically, but energetically. It helps me move out the things that I've picked up throughout my day, and release them back into the Earth and back into the Ethers, so I don't have to hold on to them.”
She goes on to talk about the importance of pleasure, and how it supports her holistically. “I experience pleasure in so many ways. I experience pleasure through what I eat, and also through preparing a meal. That gives me a lot of joy. Pleasure is taking time between client sessions to hold my eight-week-old niece, sharing a kiss with my love, or feeling the grass between my toes. I think oftentimes we want pleasure to be this grandiose thing, when pleasures are in the small things that we might consider mundane. Those are the miraculous things of life to me. And I'm finding myself slowing down to appreciate them, recognizing that I have more access to pleasure than I ever thought I did. So, pleasure, play, and movement have been the grounding forces of sustainability for me.”
As we continue to talk about the practices she has found meaningful, Kyndra describes the importance of her ancestral altar in keeping her rooted. It’s a place she goes daily to welcome in the lineages she belongs to. “I’m here because of the things that they have sacrificed and survived to allow me to be present to do the work that I do. I go to my altar to let them know that I need help, at times, to stay grounded and to stay committed to this work that I've been called to. To let them know that sometimes I need my vision to be healed, my perceptions to be shifted, so I can continue to do the work with grace and ease, with good character and integrity. To let them know that I'm thankful. Time at the altar with my ancestors reminds me that I don't do this work alone. None of us do. And I think it’s important for us as activists to recognize that the comrades we see are not the only comrades we have.”
Her answer makes me think of of something I lean into often: that we are part of a project of healing and liberation that began long before we ever got here, and will continue long after we’re gone. We can draw on the support of our ancestors, and we can call on the vision of those yet to come to strengthen and guide us in our season.
As we talk about the importance of ancestors, and being part of something much larger than we are, I ask what inspires Kyndra to do the work she does, and what gives her hope. Her answer feels like a freestyle poetic meditation on the subject:
“What inspires me to do the work that I do are people who are in their houses right now that might be listening to this. Or in their workplaces that might listen to this. Who feel that there is an aspect of themselves that can't be welcomed into the world. And because of that feeling, they try to numb it with certain things, whether that be avoidance, whether that be substances, whether that be shopping, whether that be alcohol, whether that be sex. Because they feel that that part won't be accepted.
“What inspires me are the mothers that I come from, whose legacy I walk within, who taught me the importance of community. What inspires me are the younger generations that are before us, who are very much committed to living in their authenticity, in ways that make folks uncomfortable. That inspires me to live into mine more gracefully.
“I'm inspired by spiritual leaders like yourself, who live into a holistic wellness that invites others to shine their lights. What gives me hope are invitations like this to have conversations with like minds. What gives me hope is being able to sit with organizations who know they are in error and want to do something to shift and change that.
“What gives me hope is to sit with individuals who are intentional about their healing and desire to be whole, and they have epiphanies throughout our companionship together that call them back into the realization of their own brilliance and boundaries and giftedness and wonderment, in ways where they become even more committed to living the life that they have dared imagine.
“What gives me hope is my own story of not being victim to traumatic experiences that could have been destabilizing, and finding some type of way to move forward. Whether that is my spiritual director, my therapist, or my connection to plant medicine in sacred ritual space, and the ways that those practices uncover for me the things that I need to release, or the things that I need to pick up.
“Prayer inspires me. Being loved well, by friends and family, and my partner inspires me. The seasons of Nature inspire me, and remind me that there’s always a season coming for me to die, so I can be reborn into a better version of myself. And that dying season, and that rebirthing season, that season of resurrecting, is a lifetime process. It gives me hope to know that the dying season won’t last always. The transition season won’t last always, but at the end of it there is always room for resurrection and for hope. And for new seasons of harvest.”
As we move toward the end of our time together, I ask about the vision that calls her forward in the face of all that we are navigating in these times of such upheaval. She responds, “There’s a mantra that I used to say when I am closing out my candles at the end of the evening – because all of my altars have candles on them – I say: Thank you for the light that shines within and shines without, and inspires others to shine their light so that we may transform the world. So, I just want to be light. We all are lights, if we so choose to be. How does my light help you to shine? How does it help the next person to shine? That’s what I want.”
To learn more about Kyndra’s work visit:
KYND Consulting: https://www.kyndconsulting.com
A Love Supreme: https://www.gofundme.com/f/fund-the-a-love-supreme-documentary
National Black Theater, Founder’s Month panel (2020):