welcome
My name is Devan Sandiford, and I’m so glad you are here. I have a story to share with you that is as much about you as it is about me.
Just a little about me… I’m a writer, award-winning storyteller, and community activist. My stories have been featured in The Washington Post, The Moth Radio Hour and Podcast, Speak Up Storytelling, Simple Families Podcast, and elsewhere. I’ve contributed my opinions on race, identity, grief, parenting, and storytelling to articles in The New York Times and The Washington Post.
But that’s not where my story began. My story began with my silence—denying my inner voice and believing my words didn’t matter—after the fatal shooting of my Uncle Ron when I was 6 years old.
reclamation
“On the 16th of June 1991, Miami police officers fatally shot Ronald Edwards, a 27-year-old Black man, steps outside his front door.”
It’s a headline the world has heard enough times that many expect—and some have even asked—for me to fill in the gruesome details of my uncle’s death and to speak with a voice filled with anger that Black Lives Matter. Black lives do matter and at times I have been angry, but that is not the story I have to share. The story I have is not centered in anger or on the police, but on the six-year-old boy who lost his way when his family never spoke of the incident or of their grief. A six-year-old boy who could feel his mother’s pain though it was hidden in silence. A six-year-old boy who want to carry his mother’s heavy heart.
It’s the story of how I grew up, keeping one trauma after another hidden until I became a father who couldn’t help but see how my silence was harming the 7- and 4-year-old sons I had dreamt of loving and protecting my whole life.
That’s what drove me to honor my inner voice and speak my truth. That’s what led me to step on stages and share my story, to have conversations with my family, and to write a letter of longing and reclamation to my late uncle:
“Dear Uncle...
I am here to be witness to the fact that
You
And I
And him
And her
And they
And them
Are all fully human.
Not so that those in power can see us, hear us, and love us, but so that we can see, hear, and love ourselves. So we can share our whole hearts with the people we love. And so that when the world says we are less than human, we can know deeply within our being—
We
Are
Human, Like You.”
THE SILENCE I [WE] CARRY
But like I said, my story is as much about you as it is about me. We all experience trauma—the death of a loved one, violence, abuse, rape, global calamity, being oppressed, silenced, or treated as less than. The problem is that so many of us believe the best way to deal with our sorrows is to not talk about it or even to just be happy, but then all we end up doing is carrying our sorrows around with us everywhere we go. We think time heals all wounds or our silence with protect us. But after three decades of staying silent about the painful moments in my life, I can confidently say…
“NOT TALKING ABOUT PAIN DOESN’T MAKE THE PAIN GO AWAY—IT ONLY MAKES IT WORSE.”
That’s what I have to share—a story about how much we all need to give voice to the sorrow we carry in silence before it consumes us, our loved ones, and the world around us. If you’re anything like me (someone who struggles to honor their inner voice and speak hard truths), I would love to connect:
writer | storyteller | Community facilitator
