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Some Cases Follow You Home
Some cases end when the report is completed. Others do not.
For professionals who work around trauma, there are cases that stay in your mind long after the workday is over. It might be something a child said during an interview, the details of a difficult case, or simply wondering what will happen to that person after your role in the case has ended. You can leave the office, but sometimes your mind does not leave the case as easily.
Before studying trauma more deeply, I think it was easy to assume that trauma mainly affects the person who directly experienced the event. Throughout this course, however, I began thinking more about the people who repeatedly listen to traumatic experiences as part of their profession. Police officers, child protection professionals, social workers, emergency responders, and others may spend their careers helping people through some of the most difficult moments of their lives. They are trained to remain professional, make decisions, and continue to the next case. But being professional does not mean being unaffected.
One concept that stood out to me in this course was secondary traumatic stress. The National Child Traumatic Stress Network (NCTSN, 2022) explains that professionals can experience emotional distress from indirect exposure to the traumatic experiences of others. This is particularly relevant in professions where listening to detailed accounts of abuse, violence, loss, and fear is not unusual but part of everyday work.
I think what makes this type of stress difficult is that the effect may not always be obvious. A professional does not necessarily finish a difficult interview and immediately recognize, “This case affected me.” Instead, the impact can be quieter. A person may continue thinking about the case at home, become emotionally exhausted, have difficulty separating work from personal life, or gradually become more guarded about the world around them. Bride (2007) found substantial levels of secondary traumatic stress symptoms among social workers, demonstrating that professionals who work with traumatized populations can themselves experience trauma-related symptoms.
What interests me most is not only what professionals experience at work, but what they may carry away from it. Someone who repeatedly encounters child abuse, for example, may begin noticing possible risks in situations that other people would consider ordinary. A police officer repeatedly exposed to violence may find that remaining alert does not automatically end when the shift does. In some ways, professional experience teaches us to notice things that other people may overlook. That awareness can be valuable in our work, but constantly viewing the world through the possibility of harm can also have a cost.
This changed one assumption for me. Being affected by a case does not necessarily mean that someone is unable to do the job. Sometimes it may simply mean that the person has been doing emotionally demanding work for a long time without enough opportunity to process what they have been carrying. Van der Kolk (2014) explains throughout The Body Keeps the Score how traumatic stress can affect the way people experience safety, emotions, and their surroundings. Although his work primarily focuses on people who have directly experienced trauma, it also made me think more deeply about how repeated exposure to the trauma of others can influence professionals over time.
There is an understandable expectation in criminal justice that professionals remain calm and objective. We need that. Decisions involving victims, children, families, and offenders cannot be based only on emotion. But I do not think professionalism should require becoming emotionally detached from everything we see. Empathy is part of what allows professionals to listen carefully, understand what someone is experiencing, and recognize when that person needs help. The challenge is learning how to care without carrying every case personally.
This is also why I no longer see self-care as something extra that professionals should think about only when they have time. Sometimes recovery can be as simple as taking a real day away from work, disconnecting when possible, spending time with family, resting, or recognizing when you need support. At the same time, the responsibility cannot fall entirely on the individual. Organizations that ask employees to work around trauma also have a responsibility to support them. Peer support, confidential mental health resources, supportive supervision, and education about secondary traumatic stress can help professionals recognize the impact of their work before they reach a crisis. The NCTSN (2022) similarly emphasizes both individual and organizational approaches to addressing secondary traumatic stress.
People working in trauma-exposed professions are often told to “leave work at work.” It sounds simple, but I have come to realize that it is not always realistic. Maybe the goal is not to forget every difficult case at the end of the day. Some cases stay with us because we are human enough to care about what happens to the people we serve. The more important skill may be learning to recognize when remembering becomes carrying, and when carrying becomes too heavy.
This course has changed the way I think about trauma because I no longer see its impact as limited only to the person at the center of an incident. Trauma can affect families, communities, and sometimes the professionals who repeatedly step into other people’s worst moments to help them.
Some cases will follow us home. The important question is whether we recognize what we are carrying—and whether the systems designed to help others are also willing to support the people doing the helping.
References
Bride, B. E. (2007). Prevalence of secondary traumatic stress among social workers. Social Work, 52(1), 63–70. https://doi.org/10.1093/sw/52.1.63
National Child Traumatic Stress Network. (2022). Secondary traumatic stress: Understanding the impact on professionals in trauma-exposed workplaces.
Van der Kolk, B. A. (2014). The body keeps the score: Brain, mind, and body in the healing of trauma. Viking.
The Guatemalan Civil War and the Lasting Impact of Trauma
In the 36-year Guatemalan Civil War (1960–1996), state violence peaked between 1981 and 1983. During this period, state forces executed systematic killings under the doctrine that Indigenous communities were aiding leftist guerrillas. Over 200,000 people were killed or disappeared, with more than 80% of the victims being unarmed Indigenous Maya civilians, and over 600 villages were completely destroyed. In 1999, the United Nations officially designated these acts as genocide, stating that state government forces deliberately sought the destruction of specific Maya ethnic groups through mass executions, displacement, systematic sexual violence, and the destruction of cultural identity.
Systemic political corruption severely strains public health delivery in post-conflict regions. The rising establishment of governance of street gangs also increases instability in cities. Because of this, frontline clinicians and health care workers are operating under constant security threats and serving patients living in deep fear of state or gang retaliation. To understand these clinical challenges, health policy must account for the historical genocide that transformed the socio-political landscape. However, research on conflict-affected populations demonstrates that trauma recovery cannot be handled with clinical management alone. Real healing happens when care directly counters cultural erasure and institutional challenges. When public and government systems fail, practitioners can tap into resilient resources such as cultural pride and ancestral identity. I believe there is a way that practitioners can integrate cultural identity into daily practice and turn their aid into acts of empowerment despite institutional barriers.
Building an effective trauma-informed care framework requires moving beyond traditional Western approaches with ideas of trauma being strictly one dimensional as an individual illness. Demographic research in post-conflict communities has found that mass violence functions as a structural shock across family trees, creating a "kinship multiplier" effect where trauma ripples across generations and preserves a collective demographic memory of loss (Alburez-Gutierrez, 2021). At the population level, assessments confirm that historical war exposure significantly increases long-term risks for post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, and severe alcohol dependence (Puac-Polanco et al., 2015). In these contexts, silence often serves as a coping strategy. Additionally, cultural and human rights activists have found that severe trauma frequently overwhelms spoken language (Schauwecker, 2018). When government systems fail to deliver justice, creative expression becomes vital vehicles for processing collective grief, as well as demanding accountability outside traditional institutional walls.
Practitioners cannot fix large scale politics, but they can alter the clinical techniques by shifting from individual diagnoses to dignity, cultural pride, and personal agency through several avenues:
1. Reclaiming Culture and Reframing Trauma as Resilience: Decades of marginalization, displacement, and gang violence have severed many survivors from their native languages, traditions, and ancestral pride. Clinicians can actively integrate local cultural concepts during intake. Language retention, traditional art, and ancestral practices should be explicitly celebrated as living acts of strength and survival rather than outdated customs. Additionally, western labels can deepen feelings of helplessness in populations already marginalized by corrupt state structures. Practitioners should reframe clinical symptoms as protective strategies that enable patients and their families to navigate danger. Highlighting how patients maintain dignity and care for others shifts the focus toward post-traumatic growth.
3. Confidentiality: Patients may fear that coming to professionals can expose their families to gang extortion or state surveillance. Clinicians should adopt minimalist, non-stigmatizing documentation. Giving patients transparent control over their records reassures them that personal histories will not be identifiable.
4. Partnering with Quiet but Foundational Community Members: Patients often cannot cross gang territories to reach facilities, along with public clinics lacking specialized mental health staff. Practitioners can establish trusted, informal referral networks with local midwives, elders, and spiritual guides within the patient’s neighborhood. Establishing peer-led support circles in neutral local spaces allows collective processing and shared heritage to replace isolation.
5. Holistic, Ritual-Based Care without Medications: Since essential medications are frequently out of stock due to health ministry corruption, and brief appointments prevent long sessions. Clinicians should teach rapid, body-based regulation techniques that patients can use independently during acute stress. Additionally, clinicians should validate traditional community rituals that support emotional balance without reliance on broken pharmaceutical supply chains.
When health systems are crippled by state corruption, governmental instability, and gang violence, frontline practitioners cannot rely on traditional Western psychiatric frameworks or state resources alone. Ultimately, when large institutions fail, practitioners can become a vital part of resistance. By prioritizing privacy-first practices, rapid somatic tools, partnership with local community members, and the active empowerment of cultural heritage, professionals can restore agency and dignity to survivors, ensuring that healing remains an attainable right even amid instability. It is also critical in promoting the longevity of a culture that was deeply uprooted due to state-issued violence.
I first learned about this after reading a forensic anthropology book about experts in the field exhuming clandestine graves from the genocide. I was very moved about the history of the civil war, collective grief of survivors, the Indigenous culture of the Maya citizens, as well as the silent history of his tragedy. Learning about this genocide opened by eyes to the complexity of trauma and violence against targeted groups. Doing my due diligence to educate myself on the good as well as the dark history of civilizations helps me stay attune to the global experience of trauma but also to ensures that I know of people’s histories and to not let perpetrators succeed erasing the history of others. Forgetting is a long-term goal of those who carry out these violent acts, and knowing about these events is a form of empowerment for victims, survivors, and practitioners to keep cultural identity and pride alive.
References:
Alburez-Gutierrez, D. (2021). The demographic grief and memory after geniuses in Guatemala. Demography, 58(4), 1215–1239. DOI:10.4054/MPIDR-WP-2021-003
Branas CC, Dinardo AR, Puac Polanco VD, Harvey MJ, Vassy JL, Bream K. (2013). An exploration of violence, mental health and substance abuse in post-conflict Guatemala. Health (Irvine Calif). DOI: 10.4236/health.2013.55109.
Puac-Polanco VD, Lopez-Soto VA, Kohn R, Xie D, Richmond TS, Branas CC. Previous violent events and mental health outcomes in Guatemala. Am J Public Health. 2015 Apr;105(4):764-71. doi: 10.2105/AJPH.2014.302328. Epub 2015 Feb 25. PMID: 25713973; PMCID: PMC4358168.
Schauwecker, Lacey M. (2018) "“You Could See Rage”: Visual Testimony in Post-Genocide Guatemala. Genocide Studies and Prevention: An International Journal : Vol. 12: Iss. 2: 18-34. DOI:https://doi.org/10.5038/1911-9933.12.2.1529
From Reel to Real: Finding Renewal in the Shadows of Justice
There are mornings I wake up with the weight of yesterday's cases still pressed against my ribs, not as memories, but as sensations. The tremor in a victim's voice. The acrid smell of a scene I cannot un-smell. For years, I told myself that pushing through was strength, that pausing was weakness. I was wrong. I learned this the hard way, not from a textbook, but from the night I sat in my driveway for forty-five minutes, unable to turn off the engine, unable to enter my own home, because I knew I had nothing left to give my family. That was my breaking point and also my beginning. Coming from film, I understood storytelling, composition, and the power of a single frame to evoke emotion. But criminal justice showed me that these are not just scenes on a screen. They are real lives, real trauma, real consequences that do not fade when the director yells cut. I had to unlearn the instinct to stay in character, to remain immersed in the narrative for the sake of authenticity. In film, we call it method acting. In this field, we call it burnout. The same sensitivity that made me a good filmmaker, the ability to feel deeply and observe closely, became my greatest vulnerability when I could not separate the story from the self.
Recovery, I now understand, is not about escaping the work; it is about editing. Just as I would step away from an edit suite to return with fresh eyes, I now step away from the weight of this work to regain perspective. I started small with five minutes each evening with no screens, just watching the sky change color, letting my breath slow to match the fading light. I began journaling not about cases, but about moments of unexpected beauty, a stranger's kindness, my daughter's laugh, the way rain sounds on a tin roof. These were not distractions; they were recalibrations. They reminded me that horror is not the only truth of this world, and that my profession, for all its darkness, exists precisely because we believe in restoration.
Professionals in challenging criminal justice roles must be purposeful in seeking respite because secondary trauma is insidious. It does not announce itself; it erodes empathy, judgment, and physical health over months or years. Without deliberate renewal, we become reactive instead of reflective, which endangers not only ourselves but also the colleagues and communities we serve. I learned to name my grief rather than swallow it whole. I gave it language in quiet conversations with colleagues who understood, in tears I no longer apologized for, in the admission that some cases will always live in my bones. That admission, paradoxically, is what sets them free. I cannot exorcise the images, but I can change my relationship to them. I can carry them with more grace and less suffocation.
Revival, for me, is not a destination but a daily practice of returning to my own humanity. I schedule respite like I would schedule a court date or a production meeting, making it non-negotiable. I use a personal checklist to monitor warning signs, irritability, sleep disturbance, cynicism, and take immediate action when they appear. I have rediscovered physical renewal through hiking and woodworking, activities that flush cortisol from my system and force my brain out of threat-detection mode. I have built a community of peers who understand the weight of this work and can hold space for my struggles without judgment.
The work we do in criminal justice matters because people matter. Every victim deserves to be seen and heard. Every community deserves safety and hope. But the communities we serve do not need martyrs; they need whole people, professionals who have made peace with the shadows and still choose to walk toward the light. That choice is the most purposeful thing we do. We cannot pour from an empty cup, and the public deserves first responders whose minds are sharp and hearts are intact. Recovery is not escape; it is the disciplined act of returning to ourselves so we can continue to show up with clarity, compassion, and courage. This is not weakness. This is professional sustainability. This is how we survive, revive, and continue to make a difference.
Critical Incident Stress Management
Trauma affects everyone differently, and trauma can have serious implications for those who experience it. Police officers are subjected to higher rates of critical incidents than the overall public. This results in 15%-35% of officers having PTSD or post-traumatic stress disorder compared to only 6% of the general population (NeuroLaunch editorial team, 2024).
Police departments across the United States have searched for answers to this predicament. While there is not much departments can do to limit the exposure to critical incidents, stress, and trauma the officers face, they can control how they deal with the trauma. A model being used for officers to deal with traumatic events is CISM, or Critical Incident Stress Management. CISM is a structured process where officers who witnessed the event are brought together to share their experiences and vent emotions. and learn about the reactions to the stress they are facing (Rosseau, 2026). This can be done immediately after a critical incident, a few days later, or both.
CISM is used in a group setting where officers can support and be supported by one another. There are four tools that are used in group CISM. The first is demobilization. That is a one-time group information process directly after the incident. The second is Crisis Management Briefings. This is a structured meeting style that focuses on the community aspect of organizational groups. This is meant to provide information about the incident, control rumors, and educate those involved on additional resources if they are needed. The third is Defusing. This is a shortened version of debriefing that is used for small groups within 8 hours of the event. The last is debriefing. That is a large group discussion about the events that took place. These tools are used together to help officers not feel alone and show them they are supported. Instead of isolation and overthinking, CISM sets out to show the officers they are not the only ones dealing with issues after a critical incident (Chapter 4 CRITICAL INCIDENT STRESS DEBRIEFING (Powerful Event Group Support), n.d.)
There is no one answer to mental health, and specifically the response to a traumatic incident. CISM was designed and integrated with different steps and different approaches to provide support. There is a clear issue with officers having a high suicide rate, and PTSD diagnosis. CISM set out to confront these issues and is being adopted by more and more departments. There has been a long history of mental health stigmas in law enforcement. By using group techniques and having the actual officers involved providing the support to and from each other, progress will continue to be made.
References:
Chapter 4 CRITICAL INCIDENT STRESS DEBRIEFING (Powerful Event Group Support). (n.d.). Retrieved August 10, 2026, from https://www.nzsar.govt.nz/assets/Downloadable-Files/Critical-Incident-Stress-Debriefing.pdf
Trauma Behind a Desk: Secondary Trauma Exposure in Non-First Responder Criminal Justice Positions.
When working in the criminal justice field, we understand that the people we are working with have more than likely experienced some type of trauma in their lives at some point. It could be from an array of possibilities; abuse from parents, abuse from a partner, witnessing the death of a loved one, sexual abuse at any age at any time, psychological abuse from people they care about, etc. but what tends to be forgotten is the professionals in the field experience trauma too. Though it’s more understandable that first responders are exposed to traumatic experiences more than others, there’s still a level of trauma that the professionals behind the desk face as well. It’s not commonly discussed in mainstream media how those who work in the courthouse or treatment agency or attorney’s office are constantly exposed to secondhand trauma working with the people in this field. There’s a bit of a stigma around those kinds of professionals because we don’t see the trauma first hand like a police officer would, however, we do work with the aftermath which in a lot of cases weighs on a person heavily.
In my personal experience working as a probation officer, I typically work with individuals after they’ve been in custody or done a type of inpatient treatment and end up in front of me properly medicated, sober from illicit drugs or alcohol, better cognitive thinking patterns, and have an understanding of the requirements a head of them. That being said, I don’t see the person at the worst moment of their life when they’re under the influence of drugs and/or alcohol or having a psychotic episode due to self-medicating and not being stabilized which is a much calmer experiences. However, I do work with the individual for a continuous amount of time and in that time, I see them through their hardest times. This can range from dealing with trauma sober for the first time and not knowing how to navigate the emotions they’re feeling to relapse episodes and even new criminal charges. It’s in those instances where the secondhand trauma weighs on us because it’s not just a crime scene or an interaction at their lowest point, it’s helping them navigate a new way of life that scares them and that they don’t fully understand.
While reading The Body Keeps the Score by Van der Kolk, it was interesting to read about his take on trauma and ways to work through traumatic experiences, but I always wondered how he handled working with so many people who have experienced traumatic situations. His section on different treatment types to help with trauma was interesting and gave insight on different types of treatment that someone can do to work through their trauma; an example that comes to mind is the one woman he talked about who was held captive for several days and violated, and his treatment recommendation was to get massages to help physically release the tension in her body. (Van der Kolk, 2014). This treatment was specific to her, yes, but I think this could be a valid treatment for professionals who whole tension and stress from the workplace and use it as a way of self-care for themselves.
We discuss about different treatment options for the people we work with in the field, but there’s a concern that because we are professionals, we shouldn’t need our own supports because we should be “above” the person we are working with when that’s not the case. In some modules throughout the quarter, there’s discussions of different types of treatment, specifically for the person we are working with, but what I don’t believe get’s taken into consideration is how these treatments can be effective for professionals too. Exposure therapy, cognitive behavioral therapy, pharmacotherapy, these could and should be treatment options for the professionals as well. We are just as human as the humans we are working with. Though cognitive behavior therapy (CBT) is typically geared towards those in the criminal justice system, there are benefits of that kind of therapy for the professionals as well. Under the subsection of CBT it states “using an educational model, CBT helps clients unlearn their negative reactions to thoughts and replace them with new emotional and behavioral responses in situations they find challenging. By setting short-term goals and breaking down overwhelming thoughts and situations into manageable sections, therapists can challenge their clients to adjust their thinking.” (Rousseau, 2026). When thinking about it, don’t probation officers, attorney’s judges have negative reactions to hearing that “so and so” is back in jail again for a new offense? Don’t we struggle with challenging possible judgmental thoughts that we have a negative reaction too? Isn’t it overwhelming to have a caseload of people and trying to make sure you’ve done everything you’re supposed to? Don’t we struggle as professionals to organize our tasks and thoughts and judgment to an overwhelming degree? Do our clients get subpar care because we are burnt out, overworked and we are just trying to get through the basic day? These are just a few ways to look at that statement and redirect it towards ourselves and how we could benefit from some extra support, even though we “only work at the desk”.
Working with people isn’t easy in any capacity, but especially those who work in the criminal justice field, a major topic that should always be discussed is how do we take care of ourselves so we can better help those who need us.
Rousseau, D. (2026). Module 4 – Pathways to Recovery: Understanding approaches to Trauma Treatment. Blackboard Ultra. Boston University.
Van der Kolk, B. A. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Viking. Van Slyke, S. R., Benson, M. L., & Cullen, F. T. (eds.). (2016). The Oxford.
Behind The Helping Role: Acknowledging Vicarious Trauma and Prioritizing Self-Care
Throughout this course, I have found myself thinking about how I could expand my idea of trauma, specifically when working with children in the hospital. I am currently studying to become a Certified Child Life Specialist (CCLS), someone who supports children and their families throughout their hospitalization, and I hoped to learn more about how to treat or work with someone with trauma, but throughout this course, I have realized that trauma does not only apply to the patients I work with, but also to their care team as well. CCLS helps children understand their hospitalization, develop coping strategies, support children through procedures, support developmental milestones, support siblings, and support families through bereavement. While every hospitalization is different, and every child and family is different, CCLS often supports children and families through traumatic events.
As someone studying to be a CCLS who is particularly interested in working in an intensive care unit or emergency department, I find myself often asking other CCLS’s how they deal with dealing with emotional toll of supporting children through their hospitalization. While everyone’s approach is different, the common theme I have found CCLSs advise me on is ensuring I prioritize self-care, mental health, and recognize the impact of vicarious trauma in order to prevent burnout. Part of supporting children and families in the hospital is trying to see things from their perspective and being mindful of previous experiences they may have had that influence their current hospitalization. Trying to see things from the eyes of someone who has or is experiencing a trauma can be emotionally taxing on people.
Witnessing trauma can be difficult, especially if you are a witness to it every day, which can lead individuals to experience vicarious trauma (Rousseau, 2026). According to Perlman & Mac Ian (1995), vicarious trauma is the transformation that occurs due to empathic engagement with another person’s trauma experiences. While people often think of trauma workers as law enforcement workers or therapists, CCLS work alongside patients in the hospital, often being exposed to the trauma the child is enduring. Some hospital visits may be routine, while others may be due to an emergency. Regardless, hospital visits can be traumatizing for children, whether they have been to the hospital multiple times before or if it is their first admission.
Supporting children who are in pain, sick, or upset, as well as potentially distressed families, can be emotionally taxing. Since our role as CCLS is to listen, support, and try to understand our patients and families, it can be easy to allow the amount of empathetic engagement to take a toll on mental health. While it can feel amazing to help support a child and their family in the hospital, it can also be distressing to be surrounded by such intense negative emotions, such as pain or sadness, day after day. In departments like an intensive care unit or emergency department, CCLS are exposed to difficult and traumatic cases daily. This day-to-day exposure can lead to CCLS experiencing symptoms of vicarious trauma.
Some symptoms of vicarious trauma are behavioral changes in relation to work responsibilities, burnout, withdrawal, denial, PTSD symptoms, difficulty sleeping, exhaustion, nausea, headaches, and impaired self-care (Rousseau). As vicarious trauma can be common in those who work in the hospital, prioritizing self-care and mental health is crucial. Establishing a self-care routine can help develop a routine of acknowledging the trauma we witness, processing the emotions and experiences we have, and acknowledging the importance of mental health. Self-care is something enjoyable that allows us to engage in activities that help our mind, body, and soul, allowing us to take a step back and reset. While self-care cannot ensure that burnout will not happen, nor will those who engage in consistent self-care routines not be impacted by vicarious trauma, it can help one develop a way to “reset” themselves and distance others’ experiences from their own.
This course has allowed me to learn more about the impact trauma has on individuals, as well as acknowledge the exposure to potential vicarious trauma in my own field. Understanding how trauma influences people and the importance of learning how to work with those who have experienced trauma has allowed me to gain a better understanding of how to support patients and their families in the hospital. Additionally, I have found myself focusing on my own mental health and self-care activities to develop a sense of routine so that when I become a CCLS, I will already have developed a habit of prioritizing my mental and physical health.
References:
Pearlman, L. A., & Mac Ian, P. S. (1995). Vicarious traumatization: An empirical study of the effects of trauma work on trauma therapists. Professional Psychology: Research and Practice, 26(6), 558–565. https://doi.org/10.1037/0735-7028.26.6.558
Rousseau, D.(2026). MET CJ720-Module 1: Introduction to Trauma-Vicarious Trauma and Self-Care[Online Module] , Blackboard, Boston University
Expansion Beyond Expectation: Examining Trauma Through the Lens of Gender Normative Ideologies
Expansion Beyond Expectation: Examining Trauma Through the Lens of Gender Normative Ideologies
Gender normative ideologies have largely dictated our perceptions and actions within society. While the display of these norms has transformed over time, there has been a consistent desire to set hierarchical expectations to which individuals should strive to conform. When our construction of these expectations intersects with life events, such as trauma, we begin to see how both are connected in shaping what post-traumatic reactions can look like. In considering the ways gender normatives can serve as an authoritative presence that can dictate human behavior, I’d like to briefly examine the relationship between gender norms and how individuals experience and process trauma. Utilizing information from the course Trauma and Crisis Intervention, along with gender normative critique from Huzaifa Awan’s article, Trauma and Gender: How PTSD Shows Up Differently in Men, Women, and Non-Binary Folks, we can see how the intersection of trauma and gender showcases itself in the multi-sensory perception of trauma and how we believe we should respond to it.
Gender normative ideologies and trauma intersect, impacting our perception of the physical and emotional impact of trauma. Huzaifa gives an example of this multi-sensory experience through the lens of gender-affirming therapy, articulating that through this experience, one's relationship with gender converges with physical and psychological post-traumatic reactions. Huzaifa states that “Stress biology and identity cross in complex ways for non-binary people, especially those receiving gender-affirming hormone therapy. Hormonal changes do not cause trauma reactions, but they can affect how mood is regulated. Instead, trauma is linked to years of social invalidation and frequently precedes medical transformation.” (Huzaifa, 2026) The perception of these stress-inducing physical changes throughout the body, coupled with the fears of social invalidation showcase how one's relationship with gender and traumas can be shaped intersectionally.
Gender normative ideologies also intersect with trauma in relation to how an individual feels they may respond. Within dynamics such as the nuclear family ideology post-World War II, we see how gendered expectations set clear divisions for who is socially pressured to maintain an appearance of stoicism and suppression. For example, In Module 4.1 of our course, Trauma and Crisis Intervention, Dr. Rousseau gives the example of World War II veterans who feared the perceptions of society while navigating their PTSD symptoms stating, "Symptoms were beginning to develop in some soldiers as late as 30 months after returning from combat and included 'guilt, alienation, psychic numbing, and rage.” (Rousseau, 2026, Module 4.1) Fear of being ostracized via displaying vulnerability culminated in veterans suppressing their need for care. Within the latency of this suppression, we see how gender norms can culminate in trauma and become the catalyst for proceeding social structures.
By acknowledging the ways that gender norms impact our experiences with trauma, we can begin to develop more progressive support strategies. In my undergraduate program at Bates College, I had the opportunity to hear accounts of trauma through intersectional lenses of identity such as gender, sexuality, race, and disability. Trauma can become formative pieces of our lives, making a multi-faceted view of identity within those experiences even more important. While gender norms have made seeking out necessary care difficult, looking beyond patriarchal definitions of authority and reclaiming autonomy can be done through collaborative conversation. I encourage others to let normative ideologies be a frame of reflection rather than a definition.
References:
Rousseau D(2026) MET CJ 720, Module 4-Neurobiology of Trauma, Lesson 4.1. History of Treatment, Blackboard Ultra, Boston University
Awan, H. (2026), Trauma and Gender: How PTSD Shows Up Differently in Men, Women, and Non-Binary Folks, Medium, BeOpen Writers and Reader Publication, https://medium.com/be-open/trauma-and-gender-how-ptsd-shows-up-differently-in-men-women-and-non-binary-folks-d1f7b3bc65a5
Children Serve a Sentence Too: The Hidden Trauma of Parental Incarceration
When a parent is incarcerated, the sentence is handed down to one person but the impact rarely stops there. Children are left trying to make sense of a sudden absence while navigating changes in their home, routines, relationships and sometimes even their caregivers. In many ways children of incarcerated parents serve a sentence alongside their parent, one that is marked by confusion, instability and emotional disruption.
This topic is deeply personal as well as professional for me. I experienced my father’s incarceration as a child, along with involvement in the child welfare system and the instability that followed. At the time, I didn’t have the language to describe what I was going through. Looking back now as an educated adult, social worker and mother I can see how profoundly a parent’s incarceration shapes a child’s sense of safety and predictability. My professional work with children and families and not incarcerated individuals has pushed me to understand parental incarceration from both sides. I recognize the importance of accountability, but I also know firsthand that the consequences extend far beyond the person who committed the crime.
One theme that stood out through the course with Dr. Rousseau is how dependent children are on the adults around them for stability. Our course material emphasizes that safety, adequate care, love, acceptance and dependable adults support healthy development, while separation, rejection, abuse and neglect can interfere with trust, emotional regulation, frustration tolerance and relationships (Rousseau, 2026). Van der Kolk (2015) similarly explains that children depend on their caregivers not only for physical needs but also to help them feel safe and regulate their emotions. When that sense of safety is disrupted, the effects can extend into how children respond to stress, relationships and their environment.
When a parent is incarcerated children often lose one of their primary sources of stability. Even when their home situation before incarceration was complicated, the sudden separation can still create feelings of loss, uncertainty and fear. Van der Kolk (2015) discusses how traumatic experiences can leave the nervous system prepared for danger even after the immediate threat has passed. For children this may show up in ways that adults so not immediately recognize as trauma. Children also express trauma differently than adults. The childhood trauma material identifies anger, withdrawal, difficulty concentrating, nightmares and acting out as possible signs of traumatic stress (Rousseau, 2026). As a social worker this matters because adults often focus on a child’s behavior without asking what the behavior is communicating. A child who suddenly struggles in school or begins acting out after a parent’s incarceration may not be “misbehaving”. They may be expressing fear, grief or confusion in the only way they know how.
Our lecture material has highlighted that children are particularly vulnerable to trauma because of their age and dependence on adults (Rousseau, 2026). This is why I believe the correctional systems need to think more intentionally about children when working with incarcerated parents. When it is safe and appropriate, maintaining healthy family connections through visitation, phone calls (which are now free in Massachusetts), letters, parenting programs and other forms of communication should be considered part of rehabilitation, not an optional privilege. Van der Kolk (2015) repeatedly emphasizes the importance of safe and supportive relationships in recovering from trauma. For children of incarcerated parents maintaining an appropriate connection with a parent may help preserve a sense of attachment and remind the child that the relationship has not completely disappeared. Supporting the parent-child relationships can reduce trauma, strengthen family bonds and improve reentry outcomes.
Reentry itself is another critical point. A parent’s release does not automatically repair the relationship. Children have continued growing, routines have changed and feelings surrounding the parent’s absence may still be present. Reunification requires support, patience and intentional planning. Incorporating family focused reentry strategies acknowledges that incarceration disrupts entire family systems not just individuals. Trauma-informed care teaches us to move beyond asking what is wrong with someone and instead consider what happened to them, what their behavior may be communicating and what support may have been missing. I believe we need to extend the same thinking to the children of incarcerated parents. Their experiences are often overlooked, yet they carry emotional burdens that can shape their development for years. If we want to interrupt cycles of trauma and incarceration we cannot focus solely on the person behind the walls. We must also pay attention to the children waiting on the other side.
References:
Rousseau, D. (2026). Module Two: Childhood Trauma [Lecture notes]. Boston University Metropolitan College.
van der Kolk, B. (2015). The body keeps the score: Brain, mind, and body in the healing of trauma. Penguin Books.
Self-Care is a Necessity: Why Criminal Justice Professionals Need to Recover
When I first began learning about trauma in the criminal justice system, I primarily associated trauma with victims. However, the course Trauma and Crisis Intervention has challenged me to recognize that trauma can affect nearly everyone who interacts with the criminal justice system, including law enforcement officers, veterans, incarcerated individuals, victims, and the professionals responsible for providing support. This realization has changed the way I think about self-care. I no longer see it simply as something people do when they are stressed or need a break. Instead, I believe self-care and recovery are essential components of remaining healthy and effective in a profession that routinely exposes individuals to trauma.
Professionals in criminal justice and related helping professions are regularly exposed to difficult situations, traumatic stories, violence, and the consequences of other people’s experiences. Repeated exposure to these circumstances can affect an individual’s psychological and physical well-being. One example discussed in our course is Critical Incident Stress Management (CISM). CISM provides interventions intended to help individuals manage the emotional and psychological effects that can follow critical incidents, including opportunities to process and respond to stressful experiences (Health Assured, n.d.). For criminal justice professionals who routinely respond to traumatic incidents, these types of interventions can provide an important opportunity to begin recovering rather than allowing the effects of an incident to accumulate over time. The need for these interventions become particularly concerning when considering the mental health challenges faced by law enforcement officers. Police officers regularly encounter violence, death, accidents, victims, and other highly stressful situations. Research by Maguen et al. (2009) found that routine work environment stress was associated with PTSD symptoms among police officers. This finding is important because it demonstrates that the effects of occupational stress are not limited to extraordinary or isolated critical incidents. The everyday pressures associated with police work can also contribute to psychological distress. The issue becomes even more concerning when considering police suicide. Kulbarsh (2016) reported on police suicide statistics and highlighted the seriousness of suicide within the profession. Together, these concerns demonstrate why officer wellness and mental health support deserve greater attention.
What stands out to me about CISM and the discussion of officer wellness is that they challenge the idea that professionals are immune to trauma simply because they are professionals. There can sometimes be an expectation that people working in criminal justice should be able to handle difficult situations because responding to those situations is part of their job. However, repeated exposure to traumatic events does not make someone immune to their psychological effects. As discussed in the course Trauma and Crisis Intervention, professionals can experience the consequences of repeated stress and trauma just as the individuals they serve can (Rousseau, 2026). If anything, the repeated nature of this exposure makes purposeful recovery even more important. This idea extends beyond law enforcement. My understanding of trauma has expanded to include the experiences of military veterans and incarcerated individuals as well. Many veterans experience PTSD, traumatic brain injuries, or substance use disorders after deployment, and veterans treatment courts demonstrate how trauma-informed approaches can address underlying issues while still holding individuals accountable (Rousseau, 2026). Similarly, our discussion of incarceration introduced me to the concept of institutionalization and the psychological effects associated with prolonged isolation. These examples show that trauma-informed care cannot be limited to one point in the criminal justice process. It must follow individuals throughout the system.
I was particularly interested in our discussion of restorative justice because it demonstrates that accountability and healing do not necessarily have to be competing goals. Restorative justice focuses on repairing harm by involving victims, offenders, and communities in the justice process. Rather than relying exclusively on punishment, this approach creates opportunities for accountability, rehabilitation, and healing (Rousseau, 2026). This made me think about how the same philosophy can apply to professionals. If we expect criminal justice professionals to help others recover from trauma, we should also create environments where those professionals have opportunities to recover themselves. One of the most meaningful examples from the course was learning about Angela Davis and how she began practicing yoga while incarcerated. She later described yoga as an important part of her self-care and healing after her release (Rousseau, 2026). I found this particularly intriguing because it demonstrated that self-care does not necessarily require ideal circumstances. Even in an environment characterized by confinement and limited control, Davis found a practice that helped her reconnect with herself. Her experience challenged my perception of what self-care has to look like. It does not always require significant amounts of time, money, or access to specialized resources. Sometimes it can be something as simple as creating a moment to breathe, move, reflect, or reconnect with yourself. This connects with Dr. Rousseau’s reminder that self-care does not have to be expensive (Rousseau, 2026).
Social media often presents self-care as expensive skincare products, spa days, vacations, fitness classes, or other forms of consumption. While those activities can certainly be enjoyable, they are not requirements for maintaining our well-being. A walk in the morning or evening, journaling, listening to music, watching a movie, spending time with people we love, or simply allowing ourselves to rest can all be meaningful forms of recovery. Personally, this is something I have had to become more intentional about as I balance graduate school and studying for the LSAT, while preparing for my future career in law and criminal justice. I tend to feel like there is always something else I should be accomplishing. When I am not studying, I feel like I should be working. When I am not working, I feel like I should be preparing for the next stage of my career. While having goals and being motivated are positive qualities, I have realized that constantly being productive can make it difficult to recognize when I actually need to rest. For me, recovery can be as simple as journaling, watching a movie, listening to music, taking a walk, spending time with people I care about, or creating content simply because I enjoy it. These activities allow me to step outside of my academic and professional responsibilities and reconnect with the parts of myself that exist beyond my career goals. I have learned that rest is not something I should have to earn after accomplishing everything on my list. Rest is part of what allows me to continue carrying out those things. At the same time, I do not think it is fair to place the entire responsibility for wellness on individual professionals. Telling a criminal justice professional to “practice self-care” does not solve the problem if that person is working in an environment with excessive workloads, inadequate staffing, limited resources, or a culture that discourages asking for help. Organizations have a responsibility to create environments where seeking mental health support is viewed as a strength rather than a weakness. This is where I believe the criminal justice field has an opportunity to improve. Wellness programs, peer-support systems, access to confidential mental health services, opportunities to debrief after critical incidents, reasonable workloads, and supportive leadership can help make recovery part of the organizational culture. CISM provides one example of an organized approach to helping professionals manage the effects of critical incidents (Health Assured, n.d.). However, these resources should not only become available after someone reaches a crisis point. Prevention and routine wellness support are equally important.
The discussion of the Black Panther Party also reinforced for me the importance of looking beyond popular narratives when examining issues of trauma and community well-being. Learning about the organization’s community-based initiatives reminded me that healing does not always come from formal institutions. Communities can create their own systems of support and care, particularly when existing systems have failed to meet their needs. This perspective is important for criminal justice professionals because understanding the communities they serve requires looking beyond stereotypes and considering the historical and social circumstances that influence people’s experiences with trauma (Rousseau, 2026).
The course Trauma and Crisis Intervention has changed the way I understand recovery. Trauma-informed criminal justice should not only ask, “How do we help the person who has experienced trauma?” It should also ask, “How do we support the people who spend their careers responding to that trauma?” I believe the answer requires both individual and organizational responsibility. Individuals must learn to recognize their own needs and develop meaningful ways to recover, while organizations must create environments where doing so is encouraged and supported. Most importantly, we need to move away from the idea that asking for help or taking a break is a sign of weakness. A professional can be resilient and still need support. A person can be committed to their work and still need time away from it. For me, learning how to recover is part of preparing for the professional I want to become. I want to be someone who can care deeply about difficult issues without allowing those issues to consume every part of my life. Self-care is therefore not something separate from my professional development. It is part of it. If we expect criminal justice professionals to protect, advocate for, and help others through some of the most difficult experiences of their lives, we should also make sure they have the opportunity, resources, and permission to care for themselves.
References
Health Assured. (n.d.). Critical incident management. https://www.healthassured.org/trauma-management/critical-incident-management/
Kulbarsh, P. (2016). 2015 police suicide statistics. Officer.com. https://www.officer.com/training-careers/article/12156622/2015-police-suicide-statistics
Maguen, S., Metzler, T. J., McCaslin, S. E., Inslicht, S. S., Henn-Haase, C., Neylan, T. C., & Marmar, C. R. (2009). Routine work environment stress and PTSD symptoms in police officers. The Journal of Nervous and Mental Disease.
Rousseau, D. (2026). Module 6: Trauma and the criminal justice system [Online module]. Blackboard at Boston University.
Could I Have Become One of Them? What Ordinary Men Taught Me About Human Behavior
One of the most unsettling lessons I have learned in the Trauma and Crisis Intervention course is that acts of pure evil and malice are not always committed by malevolent people. Before reading Christopher Browning’s Ordinary Men, I found it easy to believe that the perpetrators of the Holocaust were fundamentally different from others, that they were uniquely cruel or inherently evil. Browning’s historical analysis challenged that assumption by presenting Reserve Police Battalion 101 as a group of ordinary, middle-aged German men who gradually became active participants in mass murder. Rather than leaving me with simple answers, the book forced me to ask an uncomfortable question: could ordinary people –including myself– be influenced by similar social pressures under different circumstances?
The social psychology research we explored in Module 5 helps explain why Browning’s conclusions are unsettling. Stanley Milgram demonstrated that many people are willing to obey authority figures, even when those orders conflict with their own morality. Philip Zimbardo’s Stanford Prison Experiment further demonstrates how quickly typical people can internalize social roles and adapt their behavior to fit the expectations of a situation. Browning argues that Zimbardo’s findings are especially relevant because the men of Reserve Police Battalion 101 were not simply following direct orders. Many individuals gradually adapted to their roles as they became desensitized to violence, even volunteering for more violent tasks. The transformation was not immediate; it occurred through conformity, peer influence, and the normalization of cruelty rather than just unquestioned obedience.
While reading these works, I had found myself thinking about Marina Abramovic’s 1974 performance, Rhythm 0. During the performance, Abramovic stood motionless for six hours while audience members were told they could use any of seventy-two objects on her however they wished with no consequence. What started with harmless interactions gradually escalated into physical violence, as participants observed others crossing the line of morality. By the end of the performance, audience members had cut her clothing, damaged her skin, and even held a loaded gun to her head. Although Rhythm 0 is not comparable to the Holocaust in scale, intent, historical context, or severity it demonstrates a similar psychological phenomenon: when accountability is diminished and harmful behavior becomes normalized within a group, ordinary people may begin acting in ways they never imagined possible.
What connects Browning, Milgram, Zimbardo, and Abramovic is not the claim that people are intrinsically evil. Instead, they collectively suggest that human behavior is profoundly influenced by social environments, authority, group norms, and perceived responsibility. This realization is unnerving because it shifts the conversation away from identifying “bad people” and toward recognizing the conditions that allow harmful behavior to emerge. At the same time, these works also remind us that some individuals resisted. A small number of Battalion 101 members refused to participate in the Jozefow massacre despite the social pressure surrounding them. Their actions indicate that situational influences are powerful but not absolute.
As someone pursuing a career in psychology and criminal justice, I believe this may be one of the most important lessons of the course. Understanding how ordinary people became capable of devastating harm is not about excusing these perpetrators, but about recognizing warning signs before they escalate into violence. It also highlights the important of cultivating moral courage. The willingness to question authority, resist harmful group norms, and recognize the humanity in others even when doing so is difficult. If we continue believing that atrocities are committed only be people fundamentally different from ourselves, we risk overlooking the social conditions that make such atrocities possible. In that sense, Browning’s Ordinary Men is not only a history of the Holocaust but a warning about the potential that exists within every society and within every one of us.
References:
Abramović, M. (1974). Rhythm 0 [Performance].
Browning, C. R. (1992). Ordinary men: Reserve Police Battalion 101 and the Final Solution in Poland. HarperCollins.
Milgram, S. (1963). Behavioral study of obedience. Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology, 67(4), 371–378. https://doi.org/10.1037/h0040525
Zimbardo, P. G. (2007). The Lucifer effect: Understanding how good people turn evil. Random House