I thought it might help to share my personal ground rules. If I fall short of them (as we all do occasionally), I expect to be called out. If others violate them (in relation to me or other survivors) or show a pattern of enabling others in doing so, I may disengage and distance myself from them, and sometimes call it out.
My first personal rule is that everyone gets a voice. I speak for no one but myself and no one else gets to speak for me unless I've authorized it or adopted it. Generalizations can be deeply harmful to those for whom they don't fit, especially minoritized people and/or people with complex circumstances. I've personally experienced great harm from them as a survivor of repeated severe complex trauma. So if someone isn't open to hearing someone else's perspective, to make space for other survivors to see it differently, or if it's someone forcing their viewpoint on others by persistently speaking in a commanding tone to insist that survivors see it their way, then I may not want to remain connected with that person and may call out the harms in their generalizations (especially if they're drawing on the power of their professional status to underline their authority on the point rather than simply speaking as one survivor among others). Of course, it's often natural to lapse into a more generalized way of speaking, even when we just mean to communicate lessons we we have personally learned. I get it and tend not to get too touchy when a survivor* does that simply in communicating their own perspective provided that they're open to softening their generalizations and learning from other survivors' viewpoints when someone else respectfully says they see it differently. Personally I'll continue to advocate for a movement towards speaking in less categorical language (e.g., "sometimes," "often," "many" rather than "always," "never," "all")
My second rule is that everyone's pain and trauma counts. Even if I dislike someone's behaviour, I have compassion for the suffering they've experienced and remind myself that it's not okay to:
- Mock their trauma or hit them where it hurts by cruelly referencing it;
- Draw on narratives that have a long history of damaging survivors and disabled people by making unfounded suggestions that someone is faking or exaggerating their suffering for attention, sympathy or some other speculative personal gain (something that happens alarmingly often, including laterally by some survivors towards others). If someone draws on these narratives in relation to someone expressing their suffering, it's an instant red flag for me;
- Pick on choices they make for their own personal healing. Note: this doesn't mean I feel we shouldn't express disagreement and criticize things that others are pushing on us. I mean mocking what someone says they find personally healing, which has nothing to do with us; and
- Use ableist language, including language that has been specifically used against traumatized and mentally ill people (see generally, for example: https://www.autistichoya.com/p/ableist-words-and-terms-to-avoid.html) or any other bigoted language or stereotypes.
My third rule is that I will never refer to any professional status I may have to silence or demean other survivors who don't have that status who are attempting to express their perspective about harms they say they've experienced as a result of the systems within which I work. Of course, I have my own very substantial trauma and all kinds of personal perspectives, but when the issue under discussion involves an area where I have very clear privilege, I will be mindful of those power dynamics and not act like those who criticize the systems within which I work are personally attacking me, or engage in any kind of counter-attack when they express their views even if I personally see it differently.
Relatedly and finally, a basic boundary for me personally is that I never speak in my role as a professional when discussing these matters. My professional role and my advocacy are completely separate. I speak generally at a meta-level about what it's like to navigate my profession with a severe personal trauma history and advocate in some ways about how my professional culture needs to change to be more inclusive and accommodating, but never invoke my professional status to offer opinions about substantive issues affecting other survivors or to suggest that my views should carry greater weight. I'm simply a survivor who happens to be navigating my own life and career. I'll offer my own perspective on barriers I've experienced and personal advocacy about how my profession could improve when it comes to inclusion/diversity/equity but I will never in the course of my personal advocacy get into disputes about the system within which I work and my particular role within it. Nor will I ever offer professional opinions or advice (aside from some advice to students and other members of my profession about navigating it), or speak from anything but my own personal perspective. I'm not saying that no professionals should offer opinions about the substantive issues affecting survivors in the systems within which they work. I'm just saying that it's a boundary for me that I don't and won't cross (unless I've thought very carefully about it--for instance, if I ever submit something for publication in accordance with the norms governing my professional ability to do so).
I'm sure I've missed some guidelines that are important to me, and will perhaps add later but those are the critical ones for me, both to hold myself accountable, and to use as a litmus test for deciding when I wish to cease being connected with someone who routinely violates them.
I'm open to other perspectives on the above to add nuance, but these are my own personal ground rules. Of course, all of this has to be contextualized by an appreciation of vulnerability and privilege. If someone has an important perspective that might otherwise not get included due to marginalization or other vulnerability, then I'm more likely to set aside my approach to ensure I don't miss out on learning from them (I don't wish to tone police people whose perspectives are at risk of being devalued or ignored), but if it's someone "punching down" or punching across (laterally) or enabling others who do so, I'll likely want distance.
That's just my own muddled way of trying my best to navigate a highly charged and personally painful topic, subject to revision if some aspect of it excludes or harms someone else. But for now the above guidelines feel right for me.
Feedback and disagreement are, as always, very welcome.
*Note: I'm well aware that professionals who work in trauma-heavy careers can be and often are survivors of trauma themselves. In fact, I am such a professional. I'm sensitive to this but still feel that when people are invoking their professional status as a makeweight rather than simply humbly speaking as a survivor, they need to be extra-cautious to leave room for feedback from other survivors with different perspectives (that would otherwise be at risk of being ignored).
(Photo of my dogs for no other reason than that dog photos make everything better)
As always, please note that I am a lawyer, not a mental health professional of any kind. I have no expertise in trauma or mental health. Also, please note that any opinions and views expressed in this blog are solely my own and are not intended to represent the views or opinions of my employer in any way.
I am very grateful to have received a 2019 "Clawbie" Award for this blog (which reflects the importance of this topic): https://www.clawbies.ca/2019-clawbies-canadian-law-blog-awards/
For some of my external writing on this topic, see:
For a list of resources that may be helpful in understanding, coping with and/or healing from trauma, please see: https://traumaandlawyersmentalhealth.blogspot.com/2021/02/trauma-resources-very-incomplete-list.html
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