Were the kids taking on too much?
“We have to trust them,” Dr. Ley said. Adults can be too eager to step in and “help” people like Emma. “People just assumed, ‘Oh, she’s having a breakdown,’” Dr. Ley said of Emma’s tearful speech. “So what? Shouldn’t she? My first thought was, ‘Yeah, it’s about time. Look at what this kid has been through.’” If she were breaking down hourly, riddled by intrusive thoughts, and couldn’t sleep or function, that would be entirely different. But crying can be cathartic, even onstage.
“Adults will always think of ten thousand reasons why you can’t do something,” Dr. Ley said. “Kids won’t do that. That’s what’s glorious about young people: the still-developing impulse control. They see something, they see a cause, and they say, ‘I’m going to do what’s right. You’re not going to stop me.’”
Still, the responsibility the kids had hoisted onto their shoulders posed risks, Dr. Ley said. So did the painful glare of the spotlight and the abject cruelty of their adversaries. Nobody can anticipate how badly that spotlight can twist you, she said, and trusting the survivors doesn’t mean trusting them blindly. “We need to have parents who are very aware,” she said. “A parent has to be able to sort of look at their own child and say, ‘Yeah, they’ve got the coping skills to handle some of this’—but be watchful and know when to say, ‘Wait a second, you’re beyond your limits. This is not going well.’ Then they have to take steps back. What’s really important in trauma work is finding out what the individual needs.”
She talked about siblings on different trajectories, and she could have been describing David and Lauren Hogg. David was relentless, and he seemed not just capable of the responsibility, but buoyed by it. His parents, Rebecca and Kevin, gave him wide latitude—insisting that one of them chaperone him out of town, but generally letting him chart his own course. Lauren was in no position to take that on, and her parents were far more protective of her. Lauren saw her own limits and eased into the MFOL group gradually.
Dr. Frank Ochberg, who was part of the committee that first created the diagnosis of PTSD, concurred. “There are going to be adults who criticize the kids and the supporters of the kids, saying, ‘Hey, you’re abusing them, they’re abusing themselves, they’re missing out on teenage life,’” he said. “Yes, there’s a certain risk, but let’s not patronize them or overly parent them. Let’s celebrate their wisdom and dedication and leadership.”
There’s a profound therapeutic benefit of their activism, he said, and Dr. Ley elaborated. What most people failed to see in Emma’s tears—and in the march, in the movement—was the power of reasserting control. Control. Such an elusive element. Control is crucial to recovery—recovering the feeling that was ripped away in the moment of violation. It’s especially profound in violent crimes: gunshots, rape, assault, and mass murder. “At that moment you’re being terrorized, there is chaos,” Dr. Ley said. “You feel like you have no control of your body, your destiny, your future. And that fear of the unknown, of whether you’re going to live or die, sticks with you. So one of the main things in treatment is allowing a person to reassume the control of their own life, their body, their destiny.” That can mean a long, arduous recovery. It’s rarely possible to reassert control over the brutalizer, or effectively counteract the damage. Therapists help their patients simulate control, or visualize, but that can feel contrived to some, and painfully slow to others.
“That’s why what these Parkland kids are doing is so powerful,” Dr. Ley said. “They’re saying, ‘Hang on. Stop. I’m going to regain control. We’re going to do something about these weapons that we had no control over.’” To hell with simulations—they made it real. They could not rewrite Valentine’s Day, but they could reframe it. They had looked beyond that powerless afternoon, determined they had been made powerless their entire childhoods by gunmen who could strike at any moment. They set their sights on that larger problem, and reclaimed their power by working to protect seventy-four million American kids. To hell with simulations—reality felt more powerful. They didn’t start this as a form of therapy, but Dr. Ley said they could hardly have designed a better treatment plan.
Part III
The Long Road
Nonviolence believes that the universe is on the side of justice.
—Martin Luther King Jr.’s sixth principle of nonviolence
16
Denver Noticed
1
Boise noticed and