“Inside I Am Crying,Outside I Am Smiling”: Vicarious Trauma Among Emerging Violence Prevention Researchers in South Africa

Abstract

The existing literature on vicarious trauma primarily focuses on clinical and counseling psychologists, social workers, and first-responders in the Global North, with limited research conducted on researchers and academics, particularly within the South African context. Considering the prevalence of crime, violence, and trauma-based research in South Africa, it is crucial to examine the emotional well-being of researchers in this field. Our article addresses this gap by analyzing personal experiences and reflections of emerging scholars through a collective autoethnography. We draw from personal journals and reflective narratives to shed light on the challenging circumstances researchers face and how vicarious trauma can contribute to personal growth and development. Our findings highlight themes such as fear, hypervigilance, distrust, anger, helplessness, as well as positive experiences like involvement, social support, and community building. We make recommendations which aim to address how violence research is conceptualized and operationalized, and we provide suggestions to address these challenges at an individual, institutional, and systemic level.

Introduction

The history of South Africa is deeply tangled in the history of violence. The legacy of colonial and settler violence, culminating in the apartheid regime, continues to impact South African communities through ongoing experiences of structural and direct violence. As remedial and research initiatives are often influenced by broader socio-political environments (Branson, 2019), it holds true that there is a plethora of violence, crime, and injury prevention interventions and research loci across the country (van der Merwe & Hunt, 2019). This growth in trauma-directed professionals has resulted in an increase in research studying the effects of these work conditions on the mental health and (bio-psycho-social) well-being of professionals who work in trauma-related fields (Branson, 2019).

Existing literature on the experiences of trauma-based professionals are primarily toward front-line health care providers, including clinicians, counselors, therapists, social workers, and first-responders (Cullen et al., 2021; Padmanabhanunni & Gqomfa, 2022; A. M. Smith et al., 2019). It has been well established that professionals delivering trauma-based services are at risk of developing adverse psychological reactions (Branson, 2019; Fenge et al., 2019; McCann & Pearlman, 1990; Padmanabhanunni & Gqomfa, 2022; Pearlman & Mac Ian, 1995), yet there remains a paucity in exploration of researchers’ experiences within the niche field of violence prevention research (Fenge et al., 2019; Nikischer, 2019; van der Merwe & Hunt, 2019). Limited available research, however, confirms that the risk of adverse outcomes extends to researchers (see Coles et al., 2014; Cullen et al., 2021; Nikischer, 2019; A. M. Smith et al., 2019; van der Merwe & Hunt, 2019), who are often regarded as non-therapeutic listeners of trauma, particularly in the context of violence, crime, and injury prevention research objectives (Nikischer, 2019; van der Merwe & Hunt, 2019). It is within this context that we explore our own experiences of vicarious trauma (VT) as emerging researchers working in the field of violence prevention research.

Unpacking VT

Experiences of trauma-based professionals are often studied under the conceptual and operational frame of VT. Here, VT refers to the profound and enduring changes made to professionals’ mental schemas because of chronic interaction with traumatic content (McCann & Pearlman, 1990; Nikischer, 2019; Padmanabhanunni & Gqomfa, 2022).

The term VT was first introduced into academia in the seminal work of McCann and Pearlman (1990) whereby the authors argued for the need for a succinct conceptual and operational definition to explain the complex and unique experiences of mental health professionals who render trauma-based services. Grounded in a constructivist self-development theory, the authors posited that humans construct their personal realities by drawing on a complex set of cognitive schemata. These schemata are developed during childhood which predicate how the self, others, and the environments around them are interacted with and meaning is made (McCann & Pearlman, 1990). The argument follows that trauma, or even vicarious interaction with trauma, particularly if persistent, makes lasting and pervasive changes to these mental schemata, and in turn changes the way the individual constructs and attributes meaning to lived reality (Coles et al., 2014; McCann & Pearlman, 1990; Padmanabhanunni & Gqomfa, 2022; Sui & Padmanabhanunni, 2016).

A key operational defining characteristic of VT, and one which distinguishes it from other concepts, is the importance of the accumulative effect of empathic interaction with traumatic content (Branson, 2019; McCann & Pearlman, 1990; McNeillie & Rose, 2021; Pearlman & Mac Ian, 1995; Sabin-Farrell & Turpin, 2003). Here, empathetic interaction is understood as the non-judgmental, supportive, and compassionate engagement between the speaker and the listener. Although, as Branson (2019) argues, the concept of VT is traditionally reserved for those who establish a long-term empathic relationship with a speaker/client, we argue that VT does not cease to be useful outside the client-therapist relationship. We maintain that the repeated exposure to traumatic content, which is inherent in researching, interviewing, interacting, transcribing, translating, analyzing, and publishing (on) potentially traumatic and emotionally driven content, qualifies to fall under a term which was originally developed to address therapist/counselor experiences.

It is very important to clarify that VT is not used to pathologize human reactions, instead VT is considered to be a normal, understandable, and even appropriate reaction to extreme work environments (Baird & Kracen, 2006). VT is not constitutive of poor character or poor work ethic, but instead becomes a normative, albeit complex and multifaceted, reaction to unusual and sometimes traumatizing working conditions (Hernandez-Wolfe et al., 2015; McCann & Pearlman, 1990; Pearlman & Mac Ian, 1995; Sabin-Farrell & Turpin, 2003).

Risk Factors of VT

The most salient risk factor for professional VT is the orientation of daily work. The risk of VT is elevated for trauma-directed professionals, in particular those whose work includes exposure to graphic and often emotionally driven descriptions of trauma and violence (AbiNader et al., 2023; Branson, 2019; Padmanabhanunni & Gqomfa, 2022). Here, researchers may be particularly vulnerable to VT, as their professional mandates typically align to data collection, and by extension knowledge gathering, and not to establishing healing contexts (Nikischer, 2019). As such, although acutely aware of the trauma experienced by others, researchers are not necessarily privy to the healing process, and therefore may harbor feelings of helplessness and hopelessness (Coles et al., 2014).

When looking only at the subset of professionals who provide trauma-based services, the strongest predictive risk factor for VT is inexperience (Coles et al., 2014; Sabin-Farrell & Turpin, 2003; A. M. Smith et al., 2019). Although research demonstrates that professionals are at risk during any point of their career, emerging professionals and recent graduates are most at risk of experiencing VT, as they have varying degrees of clinical experience, education, training, personal experiences, and personal resources (Fenge et al., 2019; A. M. Smith et al., 2019). In addition to (in)experience, there are a host of other risk factors which may predispose a professional to VT, including personal, psychological, and interpersonal style (Pearlman & Mac Ian, 1995), personal traumatic experiences similar to those of the patient/participant (Baird & Kracen, 2006; Fenge et al., 2019; Pearlman & Mac Ian, 1995; A. M. Smith et al., 2019), and the use of maladaptive coping styles (Newell & MacNeil, 2010).

Another important risk factor for experiencing VT is the presence of cumulative trauma, particularly prevalent among individuals from historically marginalized communities (Anthym & Tuitt, 2019; Shell et al., 2021). This includes the enduring and compounded impacts of historical and intergenerational trauma, systemic racism, microaggressions, disenfranchisement, and daily inequalities that disproportionately affect Black and marginalized individuals (Anthym & Tuitt, 2019). It can be argued that these factors further increase the risk of researchers experiencing VT.

At an organizational level, several risk factors present, the most notable of which is a lack of adequate supervision and mentorship (Newell & MacNeil, 2010). Additional aggravating factors include a lack of professional support, poor work environments, a lack of resources, and a lack of awareness for the potential of VT (Newell & MacNeil, 2010).

The Impact of VT on Personal and Professional Life

VT impacts beliefs about self, others, and the world (McCann & Pearlman, 1990; Nikischer, 2019). Like the symptomatology of primary trauma, VT manifests in a variety of ways (Miller Reed et al., 2023; Padmanabhanunni & Gqomfa, 2022). Evidence from existing literature shows that professionals who suffer from VT report some of the following symptoms: fearfulness, intrusive thinking patterns, increased cynicism, hypervigilance, hyperarousal, dissociation, hopelessness, shock, disgust, distrustfulness, sadness, anxiety, guilt, desensitization, suspiciousness, agitation, paranoia, a sense of inadequacy, sleep disruptions, nightmares, fatigue, and other psychosomatic complaints (Hernandez-Wolfe et al., 2015; McCann & Pearlman, 1990; McNeillie & Rose, 2021; Nikischer, 2019). VT can affect personal and professional behavior, leading to poor decision-making, reduced empathy, avoidance, and blurred responsibilities (Branson, 2019; McCann & Pearlman, 1990; McNeillie & Rose, 2021; Padmanabhanunni & Gqomfa, 2022). As such, if VT is not acknowledged and resolved, there is a risk that it can undermine professional conduct, ethical behavior, and professional effectiveness (McCann & Pearlman, 1990).

VT as a Potential Opportunity to Foster Growth

Conversely, evident in much of the literature on direct traumatic experiences and vicarious interaction with trauma is its potential to foster opportunities for personal and professional growth (McNeillie & Rose, 2021; Nikischer, 2019; A. M. Smith et al., 2019; Sui & Padmanabhanunni, 2016). This corpus of knowledge is scattered with accounts of positive meaning-making and growth (McNeillie & Rose, 2021). In the literature, this potential for growth has been termed “vicarious resilience” and “posttraumatic growth” (Hernandez-Wolfe et al., 2015; McNeillie & Rose, 2021; Sui & Padmanabhanunni, 2016). For the purposes of this article, we prefer to explore the growth from VT through the lens of vicarious posttraumatic growth. A meta-ethnographic review by McNeillie and Rose (2021) revealed that growth occurs on multiple levels and includes evidence for the following: gaining a new appreciation for life, appreciating “resilience” of humankind, satisfaction in watching others heal, increased compassion, increased empathy, and increased tolerance.

Rationale and Aim

In South Africa, violence has become so pervasive that many experience it, directly and indirectly, in their everyday lives. This is particularly true for researchers who purposefully work with violence prevention efforts, which can increase the researcher’s vulnerability to VT (Sui & Padmanabhanunni, 2016). As outlined previously, VT can have a profound impact on a person’s personal and professional functioning. It is therefore crucial for researchers working in violence intervention work to recognize the onset of symptoms of VT to promote personal well-being, and maintain ethical and quality codes of conduct at work (Branson, 2019; McCann & Pearlman, 1990; McNeillie & Rose, 2021). However, due to the nature of research work, researchers are often overlooked as instruments in the research process, without consideration for their complex emotional grounding and vulnerability to the outside world. This, coupled with the culture of human service work, often placing stigma on a person admitting that their work is taking a toll, can generate a cumulative effect within the researcher’s already-existing symptoms, thus layering additional feelings of guilt, shame, and denial (Sloan et al., 2019).

The impact of trauma on persons working with trauma victims has been explored in South African literature through four concepts, namely, counter-transference, compassion fatigue, burnout, and VT. These studies focus on and are largely centered on nursing and hospital staff (Ashley-Binge & Cousins, 2020; Ham et al., 2022; Mathumba & Bergh, 2021). Nonetheless, some studies do document VT in therapists and clinicians (Hernandez-Wolfe et al., 2015; Padmanabhanunni & Gqomfa, 2022; Sui & Padmanabhanunni, 2016). While some studies support VT in researchers elsewhere (Coles et al., 2014; Cullen et al., 2021; Nikischer, 2019; A. M. Smith et al., 2019), there is a lack of research highlighting the experiences of VT in South Africa, particularly in emerging researchers. To mitigate this gap and contribute to knowledge on VT in academe, more specifically in researchers; we draw on our own experiences as two emerging researchers who work in violence and violence prevention. In line with this, the aim of this article is to explore our accounts of VT and growth which will enable us and other scholars to make sense of our experiences, highlight potential areas of concern (especially for emerging researchers), and provide practical recommendations.

Method

This study employed collaborative autoethnography (CAE) to showcase and explore the complex experiences and emotions encountered while conducting violence and injury prevention research in South Africa.

Procedure and Participants

With roots in qualitative research, CAE is a multivocal approach “in which a team of two or more researchers work together to share personal stories and interpret the pooled autoethnographic data” (Lapadat, 2017, p. 590). This produces rich narratives, influenced by the researchers’ experiences based on their personal, social, and cultural backgrounds (Chang et al., 2016; Lapadat, 2017). The co-authors of this paper are both subjects and objects collecting, analyzing, and discussing the data (Chang et al., 2016). In CAE, data consists of self-narratives and reflections produced through different means, such as informal self-journals, collective reflections, and informal discussions (Chang et al., 2016; Gant, 2022).

Data Collection and Analysis

After some conversation on the general topic of the paper, each author spent time collating and reflecting on their own experiences and identifying entries from personal journals between 2020 and 2023, without input from the other; without opportunity to be influenced by what the other was selecting. Reflections varied in length and content; some were several pages long; whist others were a few sentences. After much deliberation, we selected the reflective pieces which spoke to VT and vicarious posttraumatic growth during the course of our research careers. The reflections were examined and grouped using thematic analysis as we decided it would be the most appropriate way to present our experiences. First, all possible reflections were read and broadly classified into manifestations of VT or vicarious posttraumatic growth. Thereafter, we grouped extracts which were similar, and these were used to identify reoccurring subthemes and preliminary codes. Reflections were then re-analysed to identify the most suitable narrations for inclusion as there were multiple quotes speaking to the same themes. After several iterations, the final narratives were selected, which are presented in the Findings section.

Ethics

As researchers we have a professional and personal commitment to the safeguarding of participants’ rights. As such, we sought ethics clearance for this article from the University of South Africa’s College of Human Sciences Research Ethics Review Committee (90456149_CREC_CHS_2023).

Positionality

Despite concerns surrounding the ethical and scientific credibility of CAE as a methodology (Gant, 2022), its use as a tool for understanding oneself and society is supported by the access it provides to intimate knowledge of sensitive issues (Chang et al., 2016). CAE recognizes that researchers, as humans, are influenced by their histories, preferences, and positionalities. Through collaborative work, the limitations of individual autoethnography are mitigated, allowing for the construction of a meta narrative that incorporates multiple perspectives (Gant, 2022). To contextualize our reflections, we found it important to situate our backgrounds and positionalities. The below subsections present a brief summary of who we are as researchers and where our careers began.

My Story: Dumani

I am a young, Black ¹ woman. Born in a small village in the Eastern Cape. I began my professional journey as a counseling intern at an outpatient drug center in 2017. I recall one of my clients had been recently released from prison. At first, when I heard this, I was scared. I was going to be alone, in a session for about an hour with this person (a young, Black male a little older than I was at the time)—in an enclosed space. At times, I doubted if because of me being young and female, he would consider anything I had to say in this space. Over the weeks, our treatment relationship built. With him expressing trust in the process and in me as the person that would accompany him in this journey for six weeks. Unfortunately, at the time he started his treatment journey, my internship was nearing its end—he expressed sadness over this. This experience humbled me. I judged his situation (as a person that had been in prison and a man) before I got to know him as a person. Before I could hear his story.

My Story: Richardson

I am a young, White, female scholar. My background is defined by comparative privilege. I have not known hunger; I have not known a life without basic necessities. Starting my research career at the age of 21, my first exposure was collecting mixed-methods data from breast cancer patients at a tertiary hospital. There are women, who I spoke to for a few hours, almost a decade ago, whose faces and names I have not forgotten, one particularly happy lady, one whom I spent close to 3 hours with, we laughed, we joked, she shared her goals, her life-plans. Within weeks of participation in the study, I found her patient folder, accidentally, while looking through a pile of “recently deceased” patient folders. I cried uncontrollably. My heart still aches for her. She will stay with me for the rest of my life, I have no doubt. And in saying that, I do not think I want her to ever leave me either. The heartache I feel for a near stranger, one whom I shared only a few hours with, to this day, reminds me that I am human. I have the capacity to love deeply. Admitting my love for a participant would not typically be considered a hallmark of good personal boundaries, but this happy lady taught me so much about myself. This is the context from where my love for participant interaction grew. This is how I entered my later professional positions, knowing that I will be inevitably, profoundly, deeply, irrevocably impacted by the people I encounter. And despite it all, I would not have it any other way.

Findings

In writing and selecting our reflections, we found it challenging to tell our stories without exploitation-laden text. We made a conscious decision to limit the explicit details of the nature of our work, while still maintaining the integrity of our experiences. This decision was prompted by the realization that the inclusion of graphic descriptions of violence would create a further pathway for VT to travel: primary trauma from the participant to us, the researchers, and then potentially even further to you, the reader. The cycle of trauma ends here. Our narrative does not glorify gratuitous violence, but rather focuses on our interactions and how we were affected by our experiences.

Our themes are broadly classified into manifestations of VT and posttraumatic growth. These themes have been further divided into positionality—fear, hypervigilance and distrust, anger and the academic endeavor; and work environment, community involvedness, and community benefits, respectively. To ensure that our individual and collective voices are represented, we move between using first- and third-person perspective.

Manifestations of VT

In line with the aims of this article, our first theme was around manifestations of VT. Each narrative may point to various experiential and emotional reactions; however, they have been grouped to highlight specific subthemes which foreground the VT which we experienced as emerging researchers.

Positionality-Fear

We begin our stories at the beginning, chronologically. Both of us joined the same research institute on the same day, making for a shared experience since day 1. Our first community encounter is chronicled in the following excerpt,

I woke up early and left to catch the bus. I was getting anxious. I did not know what to expect for the day. I had never been to the community for research work. . . . This was my first time in this community. . . . After getting acquainted we do a community walkabout. We are interested in interacting with other community members. Our community partner warns us of gangsters in the area. Soon, an underlying fear surfaces ignited by a fast-approaching group of male youths. We are unfamiliar with this place and are visibly outsiders. (Dumani)

Being the person who clung to Dumani during this community walkabout, Richardson’s reflection on this experience was nearly identical, perhaps more littered with proclamations of fear manifesting as “my heart was jumping out of my chest,” and “my stomach suddenly felt upside down.”

Shortly after our first community encounter, the world went into lockdown, as it was gripped by the indiscriminate clutches of the COVID-19 pandemic. Quickly our in-person experiences transformed into online meeting spaces, online training sessions, and virtual seminars. We attended week-long training on an institutional project, one which records and analyses each mortality in a specific province.

As I engaged with the large dataset, the patterns that stuck out were that young, Black people my age were dying. And they are not dying “natural deaths.” They are being murdered. The rest of the week was filled with nightmares. I felt isolated and hopeless. My mind was filled with intrusive thoughts. And I wondered, was it because of my positionality? Living in a township that’s often labelled as the “capital of crime,” I could relate to this dataset in a profoundly personal manner. Young, Black bodies are dying. These people are me and I am them. (Dumani)

Portrayed in this quote are the various ways that VT manifests in researchers, including the occurrence of nightmares, intrusive thoughts, fear, and hopelessness. Dumani’s identification with the data makes her particularly vulnerable to experiencing VT.

Hypervigilance and Distrust

As an Institute whose flagship is violence prevention, most of our projects were focused on how people conceptualize and operationalize violence and how they identify predisposing, perpetuating, and protective factors in this. During this time, the people we interviewed shared stories of gang violence, crime, substance abuse, and limited access to government services, especially poor response from police. We combined our stories of a specific data collection event.

It was four of us and we were doing data collection at a local community church—there was no one else besides us and the participants. The first two interviews go as planned. In time for the third and a group of men appear at the unsecured gate. Apparently, all here to be interviewed—even though we had, as we thought, only arranged for one or two more to arrive. My heart starts pounding. Were they all here to be interviewed? Are we not just easy targets—a group of four twenty—something—year—old women, alone in a compound, with laptops, cell phones, recorders, and vouchers—easy for the taking? Being alone in a place which community members have labelled as unsafe and violent and in a country that is rife with violence against women as headlines on everyday made me distrustful. (Dumani)

My being a White woman does not help to make me feel more at ease—but then I wonder whether, had I been a Coloured male, whether I would feel safe. As if my whiteness and woman-ness is justifiable cause for me to feel scared when the majority of victims of violence in this community, those killed by organized crime, random acts of destruction and structural violence, are in fact Coloured men. A young gentleman walks into our newly appointed interview space. His demeanor is different from the people we have been speaking to. I notice his eyes making contact with my laptop. Or was this just my mind playing tricks on me? Hypervigilance begins to distort reality. I struggle to navigate the urgent sense of “I am in danger” and “do not pass judgement.” (Richardson)

In the extract above, we, having often been exposed to graphic narratives about the community and its challenges (especially gangsterism and crime) reflect on how this has altered our perspectives, especially about safety and men.

Having spent significant time in the community, we know the area well. Despite our acquaintance with the geographical space, there continues to be an overwhelming sense of un-belonging. Being familiar with the crime and violence here does not help. The below excerpt captures the continuing hypervigilance that accompanies visits to the community,

In this community I mapped out the “safe” roads. Yet, every stop street, speed bump and pedestrian crossing is encountered with calculation—how long will I be idle here? If I can help it, I drive slowly to avoid ever standing still. I have routes planned out. The routes taken to enter and exit the community are never the same—an effort to avoid predictability and therefore, vulnerability. At the traffic light a woman knocks on my window unexpectedly. I have previously been smash—and—grabbed in a similar situation—my anxiety flares up and I stall my vehicle. She meant no harm—just wanted something to eat. (Richardson)

In the extracts above, we see feelings of fear, hypervigilance, mistrust of men and others, which ultimately enhances the sense of vulnerability of the researchers in this space. The hypervigilance becomes a nonnegotiable part of community work, particularly when the community is considered to be high crime. Working in the field extends past the actual research, it requires careful planning, caution, vigilance, changes in behavior, and a hefty amount of courage.

Anger

This theme runs so deep in the reflections that it could well have been a paper on its own. In our line of work, there is much to be angry about. What we see and hear is sometimes disturbing, but often profoundly enraging.

I am angry. Angry at the world. Angry at how normal this level of poverty is. “Dis soos dit moet wees” [This is how it must be]. The situation is so dire that it is seen as normal. THIS IS NOT NORMAL I shout to myself. (Richardson)

Violence is so pervasive that it has, to a large extent, become normalized in the communities in which we work. We know that this is not how it should be, that nonviolence should not be praised as an ideal, a reward, a luxury, but it is in fact a social imperative that should be the rule, not the exception to the rule. Our provocations of rage are best captured in a reflection, which speaks to one of numerous instances where these sentiments were verbalized by the people we strive to serve,

We have done much data collection this year. In a project looking at violence in the community, some of the participants agreed that their lives were better under the apartheid regime. That session puzzled me. Months later in a project focusing on healing, the same sentiment is brought up again. Again, I am puzzled. I don’t know how to deal with the instant shock. How can something so inhumane be better? People were discriminated against and killed for just being. Community members verbalize that the issues they are faced with today did not exist during apartheid: gangsterism, poverty, unemployment, poor access to necessities. Different voices concur—‘the government has failed us, at least back then people had jobs.’ I am left speechless and with a lot to think about as a young Black person in this space. Abundantly clear is the romanticization of the past. A regime notorious for its disregard for human rights is now praised for its ability to “care” for the people. What about Sharpville, Langa, Biko, Hector Pietersen, and the other millions who were murdered either directly or indirectly through the racist regime? What would they say when they heard what was being said in this room today? I shudder. (Dumani)

In this case, we are overwhelmed by anger and (helpless) rage in that three decades into democracy, people, largely people of color, continue to experience injustices—especially access to basic human necessities. Despite where South Africa is as a country, previous injustices are almost romanticized.

Although researchers have an ethical and moral obligation to be empathetic and provide an (emotional) safe space for participants, in these cases, researchers may struggle to empathize with the participant’s nostalgic expressions and to some extent may even develop varying degrees of (selective) empathy—resulting in researcher guilt and discomfort.

The Academic Endeavor

Feeding from and into the anger is a deep sense of helplessness experienced by us as researchers. This helplessness is spurred on by research mandates and professional duties geared toward information extraction.

She recalls the moment her son was fatally wounded on her front porch. Tears stream down, leaving glistening highways of sorrow across her face. I want to stand up and hug her and tell her that it will be okay, but I know I can’t, and it won’t. Inside I am crying, outside I am smiling. I try to hide the sorrow and disgust that has been awakened in me. Despite her proclamations of distress, I am here for one thing: data collection, not counselling. (Richardson)

Unlike clinicians or social workers, researchers are not tasked with helping the people with which they interact. The inner turmoil created by competing responsibilities as a human who wants to make a change and that of a researcher who needs to earn a living is captured in another excerpt,

I sometimes wonder what good I’m doing in this world. My research has benefits to the wider community, no doubt, but I will likely not be around long enough to see these changes. I’m here for now, like the many before me, making what feels like a token of change, for the greater good of academia. (Richardson)

Feelings of helplessness have significantly impacted our motivation to continue working in this field. While we strive to contribute to positive change, the slow and painful nature of progress can be disheartening. Our contribution to the betterment of society is also often measured through a complex series of academic matrices, ones which quantify and chronicle your work through publications. This can create a constant sense of running a race without a clear beginning or end, where funding relies on publication output. ² The following reflection highlights the inner struggle brought on by the constant need to chase the numbers,

Working in the academic space, I am often troubled by feelings of guilt, inadequacy, and perhaps the ethical dilemma of “beneficence.” I am often faced with the realities of the participants, and while community work is an important part of academia, sometimes it feels like publishing takes precedence and this leaves me questioning, “Who is this knowledge for?” Although knowledge creation and sharing are undoubtedly important—considering our contexts (and the communities we work in), the literacy and digital divide continues to be a barrier between our “academic work” and the people whose lives we are trying to impact. (Dumani)

The extracts above illuminate the feelings with which young researchers might grapple because of their work. These feelings may be brought about by the researchers’ unmet expectations of their research to make immediate changes in the lives of the participants, while the researchers or academia benefit from the research data and the participants’ personal stories of trauma.

Vicarious Posttraumatic Growth

Due to the focus of the paper, the experiences are inevitably skewed to demonstrate some of the VT that we have experienced. Despite this skew, it is important to know the benefits that this line of work has given us. This subsection highlights some of the growth we have experienced, specifically relating to our work environment, community involvedness, and the way our experiences are affected by the community benefits that our work produces.

Work Environment

A powerful theme that was evident in our reflections was the importance of peer and colleague support, best captured in the following reflection,

A major redeeming quality of my work environment is the unyielding support from my colleagues. On a frequent basis my questioning of the reality of the work that we do is met with support and understanding from my peers. Reminders that we are not necessarily here to change the world, but that every small act of kindness has the potential to change something for someone, and that, at the very least, is a noble cause. (Dumani)

This quote captures the importance of social support as a tool for mitigating the impact of VT on researchers. This manifested through further narrations of memorable supervision sessions, important interactions with colleagues and the unyielding support from our peers. As a collective of emerging researchers, we have made active efforts to support, listen to, encourage, laugh, and cry with our cohorts.

Community Involvedness

In the extracts below, we demonstrate how we as young violence-and-trauma researchers have experienced positive growth. Richardson shared her experience of being in and experiencing a community in which she was conducting data collection:

Feeling quite involved in the community. I know the key persons, I’ve interviewed others, many I’ve met at events. It reminds me of the people on the ground, the people who this work is for. It helps to feel involved and personally invested. This is a strong motivational factor for remaining committed to this work. (Richardson)

Here, Richardson highlights how our involvement in the community may reinforce motivation to seek better quality of living for the communities within which we work. This in turn, may result in the researcher feeling optimistic and inspired to do more activism work to help these communities.

Community Benefits

Sometimes, the research space becomes a cathartic opportunity for the participants, which in turn can benefit researchers too. These sentiments are captured in the following two extracts,

A lady hugged me today. Not many participants have hugged me after their participation. Nor explicitly stated the positive impact that their participation had on them. It felt good to know that participation was perceived as cathartic. This makes me happy. (Richardson)

Researchers may be seen as outsiders only interested in extracting data from communities. My work has taught me differently. This process is a two-way street. It works because they trust us with their intimate stories. And hearing their stories of overcoming despite the odds they face on a daily basis is inspiring. It gives me hope to continue the work. They teach me a lot about life. About being a better person and a better researcher. (Dumani)

Often academics are thought of as experts in their field. However, community engagement continues to demonstrate that this may not always be the case. Research should be a partnership and opportunity for learning and knowing between the researchers and communities. These extracts demonstrate how researchers, through witnessing the growth in community members, can experience an enhanced compassion satisfaction and an enhanced sense of inspiration, admiration, hope, and meaning and purpose.

Discussion

The Findings section highlights the major themes encountered in our experiences of conducting research in violence prevention arenas, specifically manifestations of VT and posttraumatic growth. These themes were represented by fear, hypervigilance, distrust, anger, and their impact on the academic endeavor; and the juxtaposing enriching work environment, community involvement, and the benefits derived from engaging in this type of work. Our experiences of VT were diverse, manifesting in emotional, psychological, psychosomatic, and physical forms.

Several studies have highlighted the pervasive impact of trauma-related research on researchers (Branson, 2019; Fenge et al., 2019; McCann & Pearlman, 1990; Padmanabhanunni & Gqomfa, 2022; Pearlman & Mac Ian, 1995). Exposure to graphic trauma narratives have been shown to predispose researchers to VT, leading to symptoms such as nightmares, irritability, and altered perceptions of the world (Coles et al., 2014; Hernandez-Wolfe et al., 2015; Miller Reed et al., 2023; A. M. Smith et al., 2019), a heightened sense of danger and physiological hyperarousal, as evidenced across various studies (Hernandez-Wolfe et al., 2015; McCann & Pearlman, 1990; McNeillie & Rose, 2021). As evident in our narratives, engaging deeply with traumatic data can leave researchers feeling isolated and hopeless, resonating with findings in the literature (Coles et al., 2014; Miller Reed et al., 2023; E. Smith et al., 2021). Despite the necessity for researchers to immerse themselves in their data, particularly in studies involving trauma, we found that over-identification with traumatic narratives increases the risk of VT, echoing researchers elsewhere (Cullen et al., 2021; Fenge et al., 2019; Nikischer, 2019; van der Merwe & Hunt, 2019).

Repeated exposure to violence narratives can disrupt researchers’ cognitive schemas (AbiNader et al., 2023; Sui & Padmanabhanunni, 2016), fostering feelings of fear, hypervigilance, and mistrust among researchers (AbiNader et al., 2023; Coles et al., 2014; Miller Reed et al., 2023; Padmanabhanunni & Gqomfa, 2022; Sui & Padmanabhanunni, 2016). As seen in our narratives, this heightened vulnerability contributes to the emotional toll experienced by researchers in this field (Padmanabhanunni & Gqomfa, 2022; Sui & Padmanabhanunni, 2016).

While researchers occupy a position of privilege relative to their participants, immersion in stories of injustice can sensitize them to the realities faced by those they study (Padmanabhanunni & Gqomfa, 2022). This exposure can lead to profound emotional reactions, such as anger and frustration, particularly when injustices are normalized or nostalgically viewed (Coles et al., 2014; Miller Reed et al., 2023; Paret, 2018; Sui & Padmanabhanunni, 2016). Researchers may, like us, grapple with feelings of helplessness and guilt, conflicted by their role and intentions in research settings (A. M. Smith et al., 2019). These emotional responses underscore the complex ethical and emotional landscape researchers navigate when studying trauma and injustice (Branson, 2019; McNeillie & Rose, 2021).

While researchers working in a trauma-related field may be vulnerable to developing VT, its impact is not exclusively negative (Nikischer, 2019; E. Smith et al., 2021). This transformational and posttraumatic growth may make the challenging parts of trauma-related work easier to deal with (McNeillie & Rose, 2021; Nikischer, 2019). Consequently, this could become a reason for why some individuals continue this kind of work despite the difficulties they face and the possibility of experiencing VT (Branson, 2019; Nikischer, 2019). This perspective resonates with the idea that navigating through the challenges of VT can lead to positive outcomes, which was underscored in many of our experiences.

Our findings emphasize the significance of social support as both a preventive measure and coping strategy for professionals in trauma-related fields, as reflected elsewhere (Coles et al., 2014; Cullen et al., 2021; Hernandez-Wolfe et al., 2015; Miller Reed et al., 2023; A. M. Smith et al., 2019). Such support, whether formal within organizational structures or informal through debriefing sessions, plays a crucial role in bolstering psychological well-being and thereby enhancing professional performance (McCann & Pearlman, 1990).

These supportive mechanisms foster interpersonal connections within communities, bridging gaps between researchers and the people they study (McNeillie & Rose, 2021; Sui & Padmanabhanunni, 2016). Despite the documented negative impacts of VT on professionals, we, like many other researchers find deep satisfaction in our involvement in the research process (A. M. Smith et al., 2019) and report heightened optimism (Sui & Padmanabhanunni, 2016). For us, the work itself is perceived as a healing process, contributing to compassion satisfaction, mirroring findings elsewhere (Padmanabhanunni & Gqomfa, 2022).

These insights highlight how witnessing community members’ growth can cultivate a sense of compassion satisfaction and inspire researchers, imbuing their work with meaning and purpose (Coles et al., 2014; McNeillie & Rose, 2021; E. Smith et al., 2021). While researchers in trauma-related fields are vulnerable to VT, the experience also offers opportunities for personal and professional growth (Nikischer, 2019; E. Smith et al., 2021). This transformative process may mitigate the challenges associated with trauma work and reinforce individuals’ commitment to their profession despite the inherent difficulties (McNeillie & Rose, 2021; Nikischer, 2019).

The accounts within which this article is grounded is reflective of our lived-experiences located in violence prevention research. Therefore, it cannot be considered representative of all researchers, or those located in different fields of interest. However, the validity of our experiences has been bolstered by the collaborative nature of the reflections. We have trust that although we do not represent every researcher in violence prevention work, there is sure to be a degree of relation between you, the reader, and us, particularly if you find yourself working with the themes which categorize our daily work.

Recommendations

Based on our own experiences, and in consideration for comments made elsewhere (see Nikischer, 2019), we propose the following recommendations. We broadly categorize them under recommendations for the individual, at an institute level, and at a broader systemic level.

Individual-Level Recommendations

Researchers are advised to develop personal skills to effectively manage the impact of VT. This includes cultivating a work–life balance, setting realistic work objectives, and respecting personal–professional boundaries (McCann & Pearlman, 1990). Engaging in mindfulness practices, breathing exercises, maintaining a nutritious diet, and engaging in physical exercise are also important self-care strategies (AbiNader et al., 2023; A. M. Smith et al., 2019). In addition, researchers should establish circles of social support, including family, friends, and colleagues, as this has been shown to mitigate VT and enhance overall mental health and well-being (Newell & MacNeil, 2010; A. M. Smith et al., 2019).

Institutional-Level Recommendations

The burden of self-care should not only fall on the researcher, but research institutes and other academic spaces should enact explicit actions to safeguard researchers. Here, we look at the importance of professional capacitation opportunities, ongoing supervision, mentorship, and peer consultation. We make strong recommendations to institutes and spaces of learning to emphasize the importance of professional capacitation in addressing experiences of VT (Ashley-Binge & Cousins, 2020). Efforts should include ongoing workshops on effective emotional regulation, a skill therapists-in-training receive much of, but that is largely neglected in the researcher-in-training spaces (Nikischer, 2019). Training should also include recognizing VT and the impact that it has on the profession, and strategies to minimize the occurrence of VT. Debriefing, supervision, and mentorship must be built into the research process and research protocols, and this has been shown to be vital in addressing VT across studies (AbiNader et al., 2023; Coles et al., 2014; Hernandez-Wolfe et al., 2015; Newell & MacNeil, 2010; Nikischer, 2019; A. M. Smith et al., 2019). Senior researchers should endeavor to ensure the mental well-being of their subordinates by structuring the research protocols to include debriefing and mentorship processes. An important consideration is the precarity of employment in academia, particularly for emerging researchers who often work on a contract basis (Sloan et al., 2019). This precariousness can discourage researchers from expressing their distress due to fear of contract nonrenewal, potential damage to their professional reputation, and concerns about being perceived as lacking the necessary moral fiber to continue in research.

Systematic-Level Recommendations

At a broader systemic level, we advocate for the need for targeted consideration for researcher well-being throughout the research process and for this to be formalized in research protocols (Coles et al., 2014; Nikischer, 2019). For instance, research proposals and ethics committees have explicit sections for addressing how participants will be safeguarded, but none that consider the researcher’s safety (Coles et al., 2014; Fenge et al., 2019; van der Merwe & Hunt, 2019). Given that in many instances knowledge is co-constructed, the researcher becomes an integral part of the research process and becomes a researcher-participant, yet no space is allocated for safeguarding their well-being. Research protocols would benefit from including a section on researcher safeguarding, and ethics committees should monitor and evaluate the uptake of such protocols (Cullen et al., 2021).

Conclusion

VT is a salient but under-acknowledged reality of trauma-based work. Researchers working in violence prevention are not immune to its potentially devastating effects. In writing this CAE, drawing on personal journals and written reflections, our experiences of VT became indisputable. Feelings of fear, distrust, hypervigilance, anger, and helplessness characterize some of the negative experiences chronicled in our reflections. On the contrary, we acknowledge that VT has had a positive impact on our personal and professional lives, evidenced by community involvement, social support, and community benefits. In writing this article, we pinpointed specific recommendations pertaining to the individual, institutional, and systemic spheres which would help identify and mitigate experiences of VT, particularly among emerging researchers.

In writing this article, we were faced with serious deliberation as to the consequences thereof. Professionals working in the mental health fields are often explicitly, but also inadvertently subject to deep scrutiny. This scrutiny starts at the minute you apply for a degree and carries on throughout your professional development. Applying for research positions—the question is whether you can manage the trauma, not whether you ought to be able to handle the trauma. We take it as a given that the trauma experienced by victims will leave an indelible mark on that person’s life, yet as the helpers, the listeners, the researchers, it is also a given that we ought to be strong enough to handle whatever the circumstance may need. This fallacy continues today. Being vulnerable, being impressionable, being someone with complex emotions is not, and should not be, considered a marker of an inability to perform our job. It is not an indication that we are not “strong enough” or “not cut out for” being in a listener position. We argue that the awareness of our own vulnerability is precisely the hallmark of a good researcher.