By Lubaina Plumber
I still remember the first time I attended a Sahiyo retreat. I walked into the retreat feeling uncertain, not quite knowing what to expect.But I left with a deep sense of connection—like I had just found a room full of people who spoke a language I had been struggling to translate for years.
Earlier this year, I attended my third retreat, and my second in-person one. While I thought I knew what to expect, it still caught me off guard in the best way. There is something profoundly healing about being in a space where no one has to explain why they are there –here the weight of our experiences is understood, held, and respected without question.
This retreat was a reminder of why survivor-led movements matter. When we gather—when we share, listen, and hold space for one another—it creates a kind of strength that doesn’t just come from fighting against something, but from building something new…a world where safety, trust, and choice is possible.
One session in particular stayed with me long after the retreat ended. It was on medical anatomy and the different ways FGC manifests physiologically. I went in thinking it would be informative, but as the discussion went on, I felt my body tense. My hands fidgeted, my stomach clenched - I wanted to listen, to absorb, but I also wanted to look away. That discomfort told me something I hadn’t fully acknowledged before: my trauma is more physical than I realized. I can talk about justice, I can advocate for change, but when it comes to my own body, my own history, there is a part of me that still flinches. And yet, sitting with that discomfort, allowing myself to feel it rather than push it away felt like an unexpected step toward healing.
But this retreat wasn’t just about hard conversations. It was about laughter and late-night talks where we shared parts of ourselves we don’t always say out loud. It was about standing in a room full of strong, brilliant, compassionate people and feeling, without a doubt, that I belonged.
Each time I leave a Sahiyo retreat, I carry something new with me. This time, I carried the realization that healing isn’t a straight path - it’s a series of moments, conversations, and even uncomfortable truths that slowly bring us closer to ourselves.
I don’t know exactly what my journey in this movement will look like next. But I do know this: I want to keep showing up. For the people who are still finding their voices, for those who came before us, and for myself.
Because healing isn’t just about undoing the past. It’s about creating something better for the future.