“The freeing of an individual, as he grows up, from the authority of his parents is one of the most necessary though one of the most painful results brought about by the course of his development.” —Sigmund Freud
I had a journalism professor in school who taught media law. He was tough and known for flunking students on their midterm exams. He was a fierce defender of the First Amendment and a die-hard atheist. Interestingly, one of his books was titled The Spirit That Says No. After I escaped the wrath of his intimidating grading tactics, he and I stayed in touch and even had conversations about whether God existed or not, yet I never got to explore his definition of “spirit.”
But this is not about faith beliefs. It is about the number one critical component of mental health, because that media law class was as instrumental to my healing as my coursework and experiences in psychology.
Freedom of speech is not just a political position. It is fundamental to human development and well-being. Imagine if therapy did not allow for free expression and exploration of one’s stories.
And yet that is how oppression and control work. And it is insidious. Beginning in the family that imposes what can and cannot be said, or who you can and cannot be. Sometimes, families teach social norms for survival. Manners, they might call them.
Other times, silencing happens through abuse, coercion, or intimidation.
“We don’t talk about those family secrets.”
“We don’t talk about the cousin who is transgender.”
“We don’t talk about the uncle who assaulted you when you were little.”
“We don’t talk about feelings.”
As therapists, we are trained to listen to what is not being said.
Sometimes it is like being a patient archaeologist, slowly and carefully sifting through each thin layer of dirt to find the evidence of human remains and piece together their story.
Families are only one system. Organizations are another. And they can be worse, for there is no blood relation or genetic pull to protect. The “it’s not personal, it’s just business” attitude can be permission to act like a bulldozer over people. Perhaps, not surprisingly, that expression has been attributed to Otto Berman, a mobster accountant in the 1930s (Wikipedia, n.d.).
The problem with being silenced from birth is that it can alter the brain in multiple ways and lead a person to self-silencing. And worse, the self-silenced are more vulnerable to enduring relationships and employment with other silencers.
As Zarse et al. (2019) point out, adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) can act as a neurotoxin to the brain. Their research shows grim outcomes for people with endured higher adversity in childhood, such as being more prone to a wider range of diseases, having chronic health conditions, experiencing psychiatric disorders, having higher rates of addictions, and shortened lifespans. They also face employment problems and relationship struggles, and often perpetuate the cycle of adversity onto the next generation.
Moreover, telling someone to think positive or to speak up for themselves can be a challenge for a stressed brain that is riddled with fear—and a corresponding stressed body with lowered immunity, increased disease, and pain.
Like I said, the thoughts and feelings—the secrets—can be buried so deep that their excavation can be difficult, especially when the brain and body are protecting them.
And yet, in my experience working with people, there is something deeper that rises to be heard.
It might take some time. Or it might appear to be sudden, like a super volcano that erupts without warning.
Either way, there comes a time when a person’s spirit wakes up and says no.
To every reader, may you find where you have been silenced. May you honor the grief that goes with the discovery. May you find the words or art or movement to express it. And may you find the spirit to say no.