Taffy Is In Trouble.
A look into Taffy Brodesser-Akner's recent New York Times essay on trauma.
Content Note: this piece mentions types of inter-personal trauma and discusses their impact. It also includes brief descriptions of abuse by survivors.
On its surface, Brodesser-Akner’s piece is about a kidnapping that happened in the early 1970s to a family friend, Jack Teich. The motive, identity of the kidnapper(s) and what happened to the ransom were never resolved. But Teich’s kidnapping is a vehicle for what Brodesser-Akner really wants to talk: "...surviving what you survived.” That particular aspect of trauma -- that it doesn't ever truly leave us -- is a radical truth I’ve been talking about for 15+ years. I was excited when I saw Brodesser-Akner’s essay take this direction.
After the details of the Teich kidnapping and why it piqued her interest, Brodesser-Akner goes to Tolstoy. And that's where she gets into trouble.
"Tolstoy tells us that all happy families are alike and that each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. A few years ago, I wrote a different novel, my first novel, about divorce, which was inspired in part by the divorce stories of several people I know, and I came to the conclusion that, actually, all divorces are exactly alike. I tell you this because I’ve now come to understand the same thing about trauma: Happy, well-adjusted people are all different. The traumatized are exactly alike. I’m about to tell you a story that is nothing like a violent kidnapping — almost laughably so — but what I’ve learned over the years is that trauma is trauma. Something terrible happens, beyond what is in our own personal capacity to cope with, and the details don’t matter as much as the state we’re thrown into. Our bodies and brains have not evolved to reliably differentiate a rape at knife point from a job loss that threatens us with financial ruin or from the dismantling of our world by our parents’ divorce. It’s wrong, but explain that to your poor, battered autonomic nervous system."
First, let’s talk about the kind of trauma that Brodesser-Akner is alluding to: interpersonal trauma (1). Generally speaking, interpersonal trauma is an act(s) of power and control (rape, physical assault, stalking, etc.) perpetuated by one person against another. But even within inter-personal trauma, not all violences are the same. Not even all rape is the same! I say this as a rape survivor but also someone who has worked with hundreds of abuse survivors and who, pre-Covid, offered trainings to nurses, doulas and others on the long term impact of sexual abuse.
Tell a six year old whose father molested her for years at bath time that her trauma is the same as someone who was kidnapped. (Of course no one will say that to a six year old but if you say it to a thirty-six year old who was once a kindergartener in slippery water with her father’s rough hands, you’re still talking to a six year old.) The rape of a child by their parent is not the same as the rape of a wife by their husband is not the same as date rape is not the same as someone being raped by a total stranger. If we can agree that not all rape is the same, then we can certainly agree that not even all inter-personal trauma is the same.
Part of a good response to someone sharing their trauma is to allow them to name the awful thing that happened to them as “trauma”. If you believe this matters too, then you also likely agree that saying “trauma is trauma” is not okay. These words render someone's deep violation to assembly line uniformity. It minimizes their wrenching experience. The “trauma is trauma” idea is not only offensive (and potentially re-traumatizing) it is factually incorrect.
The CDC / Kaiser Permanente adverse childhood experiences (ACE) study is one of the largest investigations into the effects of childhood trauma on later health and wellness. There were over 17,000 participants. They were majority white, mostly 60+ years old, insured and had at least some college education. Each person completed a survey asking questions about abuse and neglect in their family of origin. Researchers identified two major findings a) ACEs are very common (2) and b) “maltreatment (including abuse and neglect) during infancy or early childhood can cause important regions of the brain to form and function improperly with long-term consequences on cognitive, language, and socio-emotional development, and mental health.” (3) (4) Another reason not all “trauma is trauma”. Age at time of trauma matters.
But even if you were not a child when you experienced trauma(s), it can still impact your physical body and mental health. Again assuming inter-personal trauma, physical abuse survivors are more likely to deal with chronic pain, depression and anxiety. Sexual violence survivors are more inclined to STIs, digestive issues and suicidal thoughts (5).
It’s also worth noting that physical and mental health challenges can present differently in male-identifying people vs female-identifying people vs. non-binary folks. Even further complicating the “trauma is trauma” trope is the fact that the connection we have to the person who perpetuated the trauma, matters. Dr. Bruce Perry explains, “when ‘attachment’ capabilities are impaired (because trauma takes place in the context of caregiving relationships), there will be difficulties with friendships, school, employment, intimacy and family.” (6) We live in a world with other people. Relationships matter to us, even when we’d rather they didn’t.
Trauma is never trauma. The traumatized are not exactly alike. Not at all. The human body, brain and heart are too complicated for something as complex as trauma to be made that simple.
I want to pause here for a moment. While I’m frustrated by how Brodesser-Akner makes her point about trauma staying with us, her piece is worth reading. I’m grateful to her for elevating this conversation and to Allison for sharing it with me.
This discussion might be a lot for some trauma survivors so I will call out one more piece from the Tolstoy lede. The sentence: “the details don’t matter as much as the state we’re thrown into,”
The snorting horses around her in the barn—animals that were normally such a joy—could do nothing to soothe as her father hit her. She could see them but they were out of reach and that distance added to her terror. -J.
He had imagined his mother would leap up with furious indignation when he told her about his uncle assaulting him. But her silence, when she was normally so talkative, was part of what made the rape ever more traumatic. - P.
Out-of-reach horses and a silent mother. They probably don't sound like much. But because J & P noted them in their conversations with me, we know these details are important (7). They are part of what made an act of abuse into an unforgettable trauma. These kind of details can also help survivors learn how to understand the impact of that trauma. Why the smell of hay cause panic attacks. Or why being approached from behind can be frightening.
Domestic violence advocates (something I did for ten years, on and off a 24-hr crisis line) encourage clients to keep a journal. One reason is to offer survivors an opportunity to name what happened. An act(s) of abuse then, becomes part of the story, not the whole thing. In the space of open pages, details allow patterns to emerge and triggers to be identified. There’s something else, too. When survivors center themselves in a narrative, I’ve noticed they’re more inclined to remember that their value is greater than what they’ve experienced. This type of mindset shift is one way we build resilience. Growth comes from the details we own, journaling or otherwise.
The world will swallow us whole if we let it. Our experience —of anything, including abuse— often gets brushed away or shrugged off. "Details don’t matter” narratives encourage that diminishment. All's well that ends well, right? What's in the past is passed. What happened to you doesn’t matter as long as you:
• survived it.
• had a healthy baby.
• fought back.
• won the battle.
• came out “stronger” on the other side.
No.
When we make details matter, we matter. We’re not a “rape survivor”, an “unplanned C-section patient”, a “kidnap victim”. We are Elizabeth, Taffy, Jack.
There’s much more I could get into here:
The “…beyond what is in our own personal capacity to cope with,” wording is problematic. The fawning/fleeing/fighting/freezing responses are actually ways our body does cope with a stressor like abuse.
“Our poor, battered autonomic nervous system” implies trauma affects only our bodies when we know that it also impacts our emotional well-being including relationships, job prospects, mental health and more.
An article on trauma should include some (any) definition of trauma as well as thoughts from some (any) trauma experts.
But you get what I’m saying.
Brodesser-Akner’s two anecdotal trauma stories (Teich’s and her own) are so important. We need to hear them so more people can understand trauma and its impact better. But unless you’re an abuse survivor giving a keynote address at a domestic violence advocate conference, your audience needs to hear the "why". The "why" validates the experience of survivors whose words were minimized, ignored or forgotten. And it also helps those same survivors understand themselves and their responses to certain situations better. We need survivors to know that story, too.
Reader, if this topic matters to you or if you found it useful, would you share it? Sharing allows this piece to potentially reach someone who really needs to read it.
Friend, again I recommend you read Taffy Brodesser-Akner’s piece. It’s here.
What I’m Reading:
Antarctica by Claire Keegan. I picked it up at Dussmann Kultur Kaufhaus at Potsdamer Platz, in the ample English language section. Short stories that are unexpected, often creepy, sometimes delightfully wicked and always tightly written. Keegan is a genius. If you know her, please tell her so I can go live in her pocket for a few months. If you don’t know Keegan, head here for this profile in The Guardian.
And I just started Peggy by Rebecca Godfrey with Leslie Jamison. Godfrey spent over ten years researching Peggy Guggenheim before she died in 2022. This piece by Jamison over at The New Yorker about the project - being asked to finish Peggy by both Godfrey’s partner and her agent and what that was like - kind of knocked my socks off. I won’t jinx myself by saying too much but I’m liking it so far.
Want a postcard?
If you read this far, you are a real fan. And I’m so grateful. Want a postcard? It’s the least I can do. DM me your mailing address and I’ll send you one.
Either way, thank you, thank you for being here. <3
1. People can also experience trauma that isn’t perpetuated by someone else. Environmental trauma (an earthquake) or trauma from combat are examples of other kinds of trauma.
2. 66% of adults reported at least 1 ACE. More than 20% of participants reported 3 or more ACEs. Almost 13% of participants had 4 or more ACEs.
3. Dr Anna Parisi, a friend and former social work intern at a domestic violence agency where I once worked who is now an Assistant Professor of Social Work at George Mason University, noted in a conversation with me that the language “…form and function improperly…” is problematic, ableist even, because it infers dysfunction. The infant/child’s brain adapts to the trauma. It is different than other brains not exposed to the trauma but it is not broken.
4. Another major finding was that trauma was not only common but as the number of ACEs increases so does the risk for negative health and well being outcomes. More details here.
5. Neither of these lists are comprehensive.
6. What Happened To You? Conversations on Trauma, Resilience and Healing, a book by Dr Bruce Perry and Oprah Winfrey. For further resources see: The Deepest Well by Dr Nadine Burke Harris for a very accessible book on impact of trauma, specifically on ACEs and building resiliency in children.
7. Excerpts from two personal conversations I had with abuse survivors.
I read that article and was fascinated by the man’s story, and had forgotten the commentary at the end. I think it’s a snapshot of the time period, when everyone thought getting the victim home physically safe solved the whole problem. No victim’s services or referrals for therapy. I thought that the window into the continued effect on his life, decades later, could be helpful for other victims who wonder why they aren’t doing as well as others seem to. For people who aren’t familiar with the effects of trauma, it might open some eyes to how harm caused might never go away.
Thanks for the shout out and the kind words, Elizabeth.
I hope to find a moment to re-read the original article to accompany your words here because you clearly know your stuff when it comes to trauma.