Recently I had the privilege of hearing Dr Deryn Evans speak about her work as Jersey’s Forensic Medical Examiner at Dewberry House. She urged us to reconsider how we talk about sexual assault. This was excellent speaking – the kind that comes from someone who really knows their stuff and connects with their audience completely as themselves, with warmth and rapport.
Her compassion and advocacy were tangible, especially around the importance of truly listening to, and believing, the person who discloses. One of the most significant takeaways for me was the idea of giving agency back to the complainant. Instead of telling someone what they should do, ask: “What do you think your recovery might look like?” or “What do you need, to start to recover?” That shift changes everything.
Dr Evans spoke about freeze and flop responses – the body’s instinct to become still or collapse under threat – and how these are particularly common in sexual assault. The absence of resistance is often misread as consent, when in fact it’s a deeply wired survival response. She also challenged the notion of a “hierarchy” of harm. An unwelcome touch might be brushed off by some, but for someone with a trauma history, it can be profoundly damaging. We don’t get to grade someone else’s pain.
A simple change in phrasing stayed with me:
“You drank too much and went home with him” becomes
“He bought you drinks and then pressed you to go home with him.”
A completely different story – a completely different frame.
This all matters deeply for those of us who work with voice. I often see clients with hoarseness, voice loss or swallowing difficulties. And while those symptoms might be caused by reflux, viruses or strain, I now understand I need to hold space for another possible explanation – trauma. Especially in young people, non-fatal strangulation, often normalised through pornography, is becoming more prevalent. It doesn’t always leave visible signs, but it can cause lasting internal injury, memory loss, cognitive issues, and in some cases, risk of stroke.
I’m not a speech and language therapist or clinical practitioner. Often people come to me when the clinical path has run out. They’re looking for something else – someone to listen differently. And so I do. I listen to the story beneath the story. I use the biopsychosocial model to explore all potential contributors – physical, psychological, social – because voice loss is rarely caused by just one thing.
Sometimes a client presents with a history of reflux or post-viral symptoms. But when the space feels right, a much richer picture emerges. That might include hypermobility, old injuries, dental issues, anxiety, family dynamics, or trauma. I now need to add to that awareness the possibility of strangulation – not something to go looking for, but something to know could be there.
After Dr Evans’ talk, I reflected on how often people share deeply personal stories in my studio. Not because I’m a therapist, but because I am trusted and present. There’s a delicate balance to hold here. We need to know our scope of practice. But we also need to hold space in a way that doesn’t immediately signpost people away or shut down disclosure. Sometimes, I am that chosen listener – and simply holding that space, with care and boundaries, can be healing.
This is why trauma-informed practice is essential in my work. It’s not about stepping into the role of a therapist. It’s about becoming steady enough to hold silence. To stay present. To hear what’s offered. To stay in our lane, yes – but to do so in a way that doesn’t shut the door when someone has just found the courage to open it.
