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ABSTRACT
This paper examines 16 adolescents’ narratives about the abuse they experienced during childhood. To date, most research examining child abuse (CA) survivorship and recovery has been conducted with adults who look back on their early experiences. Consequently, this study fills gaps in our knowledge by offering a youth-centered view of survivors’ efforts to cope with CA. The data come from a 12-year qualitative study of a group counseling program for high school students in Hawaiʻi. The findings revealed that a minority (n = 2) of the teens had negative views of their lives and futures, while the majority (n = 14) achieved a sense of well-being and life satisfaction. Notably, the 14 optimistic teens diverged in terms of coping mechanisms. Seven developed positive senses of themselves by focusing on their independence and distancing themselves from their abusers, often expressing anger at those who had harmed them. Seven found solace by maintaining a sense of belonging with adults and extending compassion toward abusive parents and others. Overall, these findings reveal a view of survivorship that includes multifaceted endeavors and diverging healing processes.
Key Words: Narrative Research, Child Abuse, Child Maltreatment, Resilience, Child Abuse Survival
According to the US 2010 reauthorization of the Child Abuse Prevention and Treatment Act (2010), the definition of child abuse1 (CA) is “any recent act or failure to act on the part of a parent or caretaker, which results in death, serious physical or emotional harm, sexual abuse or exploitation [including sexual abuse as determined under section 111], or an act or failure to act which presents an imminent risk of serious harm” (Child Abuse Prevention and Treatment Act, 2010, p. 142). Although neglect does not constitute a direct attack on a child, it falls within the CA category and, as Ben-David and Jonson-Reid (2017, p. 94) noted, “neglect comprises the largest percentage of official reports and estimates of incidence of child maltreatment.” Despite making up a large portion of CA cases, “neglect differs in nature from abuse since it reflects the omission rather than commission of a particular behavior” (Ben David & Jonson-Reid, 2017, p. 94).
Based on the above noted parameters, in 2022, child welfare agencies received reports that approximately 7.5 million US children were maltreated by parents or caregivers (US Department of Health & Human Services, 2024). Although this number is alarming, it is likely an underestimate of CA prevalence, because CA cases often go unreported. Self-report studies have presented much higher rates (Hussey et al., 2006), indicating that 40% of children in the US experience some form of abuse before the age of 18. Of additional concern is the fact that CA leads to a host of negative outcomes, such as poor cognitive function, mental health, and physical well-being (Felitti et al., 1998; Jonson-Reid et al., 2012; Lansford et al., 2002; Latham et al., 2021; McLaughlin et al., 2020; Russotti et al., 2021; Souama et al., 2023; Winter et al., 2022). Given the prevalence and adverse consequences of CA, abuse of children is often considered a serious problem requiring greater understanding to promote “overall health and well-being among maltreated children” (Afifi & MacMillan, 2011, p. 267).
When it comes to generating knowledge that can promote well-being for young survivors, Gal (2011) set an agenda for scholars, advocates, and practitioners. First, she (Gal, 2011, p. 56) emphasized that “we need to make efforts to uncover [CA survivors’] authentic perspectives and experiences. This can only be done through the systematic study of children’s views and needs.” Second, she noted that uncovering young people’s perspectives of abuse requires that we treat “children as individuals with subjective worldviews rather than as mere objects of protection.” Summarizing Gal’s (2011) two points above, one might argue that we should embark on research that allows children to express their “perspectives” and describe their “experiences” in the most “authentic” way possible. Moreover, any effort to systematically include children’s perspectives in research regarding the CA healing processes should also avoid treating young people as “objects.” Arguably, studies relying on narrative methods (see Banyard & Williams, 2007) might fulfill Gal’s (2011) vision, given that narrative studies are designed to minimize researchers’ perspectives and frameworks, while amplifying and centering on study participants’ stories, voices, and worldviews.
Currently, there is a small but growing body of narrative research designed to answer Gal’s (2011) call to allow young survivors to tell their stories about CA experiences and recovery. But despite the growing body of research with young survivors, the majority of narrative CA studies have primarily included adults who are asked to look back on their adverse childhood experiences (for exceptions, see Çınar et al., 2020; Haffejee & Theron, 2019; Henry, 2002; Jarabe & Rahayuwati, 2024; Pessoa et al., 2017; Phasha, 2010; Stark et al., 2016).2 Thus, a qualitative view from young people regarding the nuanced ways that they grapple with CA is incomplete. Also, as Supkoff et al. (2012) and Ungar and Liebenberg (2011) asserted, individuals’ perspectives regarding ways to heal after CA change over time and reflect shifting circumstances and experiences. Given the changing nature of healing processes, it is likely that youths’ and adults’ perspectives of CA recovery differ.
While conducting a 12-year qualitative study of a group-counseling program for high school students in Hawaiʻi, I collected in-depth interviews with 16 teens who discussed being abused as children. Importantly, my research with teens was not designed to uncover abuse. Instead, I set out to evaluate whether school-based support services could help prevent youth violence and promote student well-being. While conducting interviews for the larger study, 16 teens candidly described past abuse and the ways they attempted to manage CA. Because this study was inductive in nature, it allowed topics to emerge during the research process. The unexpected finding about CA means that I had no specific research questions regarding CA at the outset. Instead of asking research questions, I relied on the narratives of the 16 teens to achieve two goals: (1) fill gaps in our knowledge about how adolescents explain and cope with the aftermath of their experiences with different types of CA, and (2) answer Gal’s (2011) call to develop an account of young people’s “authentic perspectives and experiences.”
As noted above, the definition of CA established by the Child Abuse and Prevention Act (Pub L. No. 111-320, 124 Stat. 24, 2010) indicates that CA encompasses acts (or failures to act) that lead to physical, sexual, and psychological harms to those under the age of 18. Quantitative studies looking at CA outcomes have offered a dismal view of the short- and long-term effects of CA on survivors. For example, CA has numerous negative outcomes for survivors, including post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, low self-esteem, anxiety, drug and alcohol misuse, and self-harm (Jonson-Reid et al., 2012; Lansford et al., 2002; Latham et al., 2021; McLaughlin et al., 2020; Russotti et al., 2021). CA survivors also disproportionately experience physical health problems later in life, such as cancer and lung, liver, and heart diseases (Felitti et al., 1998; Souama et al., 2023; Winter et al., 2022). CA has been linked to other problems, such as difficulties relating to others and struggles with employment (Fergusson & Mullen, 1999; Hailes et al., 2019; Lansford et al., 2002; MacIntosh & Ménard, 2021; Mitchell et al., 2021). In summary, large-scale quantitative studies have contributed to a particular view of CA’s aftermath, in which survivors confront a score of psychosocial struggles. Çınar et al. (2020, p. 84) captured the difficulties introduced by CA, writing that “the trauma or recurrent trauma experience in childhood shapes and deforms the personality of the child.”
This bleak account of CA outcomes and the assertion that CA “deforms” and “distorts” young people’s personalities indicate there is a pressing need to understand CA-recovery processes. The hope is that robust understandings of how survivors overcome CA will lead to more accurate knowledge and appropriate interventions.
Despite the dim view of CA effects, not all CA-exposed individuals will experience the myriad problems identified above. Multiple studies attest to a group of survivors who function relatively well and, when compared with those who did not experience CA, have normal levels of competence, academic achievement, physical health, and psychological functioning. This finding has led to robust investigations of the phenomenon known as resilience.
Resilience is often defined as the ability to thrive despite exposure to “significant threat, severe adversity, or trauma” (Cicchetti, 2010, p. 145). Whether facing poverty, family dysfunction, parental mental illness, or high levels of stress, young people have considerable variation in their responses to dangers (Garmezy et al., 1984; Masten & Garmezy, 1985; Rutter, 1979, 1987; Werner, 1989; Werner & Smith, 1992). The finding that some young people adapt in the face of significant threats has been categorized as resilience. Based on these foundational resilience studies, those looking at CA have increasingly relied on resilience constructs to examine how survivors “bounce back” and function well despite being harmed during a vulnerable life stage (see Afifi & MacMillan, 2011; Ben-David & Jonson-Reid, 2017; Domhardt et al., 2015; Haffejee & Theron, 2017; Latham et al., 2023; Marriott et al., 2014; Meng et al., 2018)
Scholars tend to agree that resilience operates on multiple levels, with individual- and family-level predictors of resilience being the focus for many researchers. In terms of individual-level aspects of resilience, survivors who have an even temperament, the ability to cooperate with others, the capacity to control emotions and behaviors (i.e., self-control), and an internal locus of control are often identified as having resilient outcomes (Cha & Nock, 2009; Himelein & McElrath, 1996; Liem et al., 1997; Pitzer & Fingerman, 2010; Yule et al., 2019). In other studies, CA survivors with high levels of self-efficacy (Cicchetti & Rogosch, 2007; Flores et al., 2005) or a strong sense of personal empowerment (Daigneault et al., 2007) are better able than others to avoid the negative effects of CA. A positive view of oneself, high self-esteem (Cicchetti et al., 1993; Cicchetti & Rogosch, 2007; Henry, 2002; Jonzon & Lindblad, 2006), and optimistic attitudes about the future have also been linked with resilience (Himelein & McElrath, 1996, 1996; Jonzon & Lindblad, 2006; Muller & Lemieux, 2000; Williams & Nelson-Gardell, 2012).
Other individual-level resilience factors are: possessing a sense of responsibility, resourcefulness, organization, and flexibility in accomplishing daily life tasks (Afifi & MacMillan, 2011; Ben-David & Jonson-Reid, 2017; Cicchetti et al., 1993; Cicchetti & Rogosch, 2007; Domhardt et al., 2015; Flores et al., 2005; Haffejee & Theron, 2017; Klika & Herrenkohl, 2013; Latham et al., 2019; Marriott et al., 2014; Meng et al., 2018). Researchers have also found that those who have a commitment to education are likely to demonstrate resilience, thus establishing an education-resilience link (Collishaw et al., 2007; Edmond et al., 2006; Pharris et al., 1997). A person’s response to CA also plays a role in well-being. Studies have found that those who do not blame themselves for the abuse and who have “low trauma-related beliefs” (i.e., feeling betrayed and powerless) have fewer negative outcomes than others (Afifi & MacMillan, 2011). Making sense of the abuse by engaging in a positive reframing of what occurred has also been linked with well-being, despite CA exposure (Collishaw et al., 2007; Himelein & McElrath, 1996; Spaccarelli & Kim, 1995).
One of the most robust findings in the literature is that relationships with others play a key role in the ability to adapt to hardships. Scholars have found that those who report a close and supportive relationship with at least one trusted person are able to avoid the negative effects of CA (Collishaw et al., 2007; Flores et al., 2005; Hyman & Williams, 2001; Pepin & Banyard, 2006; Sagy & Dotan, 2001; Spaccarelli & Kim, 1995; Yule et al., 2019). Focusing on relationships more broadly, researchers have found that survivors who report having a strong sense of social support (inside or outside of the family) are significantly more likely to be resilient than others (Collishaw et al., 2007; Daigneault et al., 2007; Daniels & Bryan, 2021; Edmond et al., 2006; Eisenberg et al., 2007; Feiring et al., 1998; Herrenkohl et al., 1994; Lambie et al., 2002; Luthar et al., 2000; McKnight & Loper, 2002; Miller-Graff et al., 2016; Pharris et al., 1997; Rosenthal et al., 2003; Spaccarelli & Kim, 1995; Tremblay et al., 1999). For adult CA survivors, having a supportive life partner has been beneficial (DuMont et al., 2007; Jonzon & Lindblad, 2006; Runtz & Schallow, 1997; Wright et al., 2005).
Family contexts have also been measured in the literature. For example, studies have found that, despite abuse, lower levels of family conflict, higher levels of positive family experiences, parental warmth, and the presence of effective parenting allow survivors to avoid the negative outcomes associated with CA (Daigneault et al., 2007; Graham-Bermann et al., 2009; Lansford et al., 2002; Miller-Graff et al., 2016; Romans et al., 1995; Rosenthal et al., 2003). CA survivors with fewer out of home placements do better than those who moved from family placement to family placement (DuMont et al., 2007, 2007; Leifer et al., 2004; Liem et al., 1997; Wright et al., 2005).
As the above review reveals, since the 1980s our knowledge of how CA survivors overcome their experiences has grown exponentially. But despite being a vast research area, the resilience literature contains some ongoing challenges. One problem is that scholars often rely on a range of definitions and measures of resilience (see Klika & Herrenkohl, 2013), thus undermining an ability to consistently recognize resilience. Marriott et al. (2014, p. 19) wrote that “the same individual may be classified as resilient using one criterion, but not resilient using another.”
Another complication is that resilience findings tend to offer static images of recovery. Ungar and Liebenberg (2011, p. 1) claimed that “studies of resilience have tended to limit necessarily their focus to a narrow set of traits or processes.” Indeed, the above discussion of resilience tends to read as a set of static attributes that individuals either do or do not possess. This either/or image of resilience as resulting from traits and assets that individuals have or do not have undermines a dynamic and process-oriented understanding of resilience. Even though the literature tends to identify resilience “traits,” scholars continue to assert that resilience stems from dynamic social and psychological processes that unfold in nuanced ways within survivors’ everyday lives. As Cicchetti (2010, p. 146) opined, resilience “is a multiple determined developmental process that is not fixed or immutable.”
One way to identify resilience as a dynamic process—rather than as a collection of immutable characteristics—has been to rely on narrative studies with CA survivors. Presser and Sandberg (2015, p. 131) define narrative approaches as the “temporal accounts of events that give meaning to those events.” Moreover, narratives are stories that “influence human actions and arrangements” (Presser & Sandberg, 2015, p. 131). Narrative research is promising to the study of CA for at least two reasons. First, because narratives are stories that include beginnings, middles, and endings, by nature, narratives highlight processes that unfold over time.
Second, narrative studies address Gal’s (2011, p. 56) agenda, remembering her emphasis on the “need to make efforts to uncover [CA survivors’] authentic perspectives and experiences” and to treat “children as individuals with subjective worldviews rather than as mere objects of protection.” Indeed, CA researchers have praised narrative studies for their ability to empower the “storyteller as the expert on her or his own life” (Anderson & Hiersteiner, 2007, p. 638). Narrative-research methods also include methodological “guidance about how to listen to [people’s] accounts without interference from one’s professional theories, personal beliefs, expectations or reactions” (Anderson & Hiersteiner, 2007, p. 637).
Consistent with the finding that the coping strategies and perspectives of young people are likely to differ from those of adults (Supkoff et al., 2012), the narrative CA survivor literature is divided by age. In other words, adults and youth offer different pictures of resilience processes. Age, therefore, seems to be a powerful contributor to how survivors construct their stories about themselves and recovery.
To summarize across the adult literature, recovery is often pictured as a long, complex process. Moreover, adults’ image of CA recovery indicates that early phases of the healing journey are marked by severe suffering and a problem-centered outlook. For example, the women in Draucker's (1992) inquiry saw their youth as a time when they were attempting to build a life on constantly shifting ground. The men in Draucker and Petrovic's (1996, p. 327) study described their youth as “living in a dungeon,” and those in Godbey and Hutchinson's (1996) research characterized their early lives as being “buried alive.” These analogies capture a common perception among adults that their early lives were marred by instability, lack of control, isolation, and severe discomfort.
Adult survivors have discussed ways they eventually built a solid foundation (Draucker, 1992), broke free (Draucker & Petrovic, 1996) and exhumed themselves (Godbey & Hutchinson, 1996). Adulthood is typically a time in life when individuals are granted freedom not afforded to those under the age of 18, and this autonomy means that adult survivors are able take control of their circumstances (Draucker et al., 2011; Gunnarsdóttir et al., 2021; Hall et al., 2009; Valentine & Feinauer, 1993; Woodward & Joseph, 2003). Adults note that developing a sense of well-being comes after achieving milestones that are decidedly adult-specific, such as earning advanced degrees, certifications, and promotions at work (Arias & Johnson, 2013; Banyard & Williams, 2007; Woodward & Joseph, 2003).
Independent from family control, adults are also able to make important choices about their relationships with others. For example, enlisting the help of therapists (Anderson & Hiersteiner, 2007; Arias & Johnson, 2013) and finding supportive spouses (Draucker et al., 2011; Gunnarsdóttir et al., 2021; Valentine & Feinauer, 1993; Woodward & Joseph, 2003) allows survivors to overcome isolation, self-blame, shame, and guilt (Arias & Johnson, 2013; Banyard & Williams, 2007; Draucker & Petrovic, 1996; Easton et al., 2015; Godbey & Hutchinson, 1996; Gunnarsdóttir et al., 2021; Hall et al., 2009; Martsolf & Draucker, 2008; Valentine & Feinauer, 1993; Woodward & Joseph, 2003). Survivors also explain that establishing one’s own family and raising children is a healing force (Martsolf & Draucker, 2008).
Contrasting with adults’ reports, adolescents reveal that resilience, joy, and life satisfaction are milestones that one can achieve before gaining adult-specific autonomy. In other words, those who have experienced CA do not have to wait until adulthood to achieve a sense of relief, personal power, and well-being. These states of being are more than attainable during youth, according to young survivors.
Collecting a strong support network is not just an option for adults. Young people credit their friends, some family members, and other adults with vital assistance. For example, the girls in Haffajee and Theron’s (2019) study said that they had received support from at least one person. Jarabe and Rahayuwati (2024, p. 293) revealed that peers were central for individuals’ recovery, offering comfort and validation when young survivors needed it most. Also, peers are often the first people to whom survivors disclose abuse (Campbell et al., 2013; Fehler-Cabral & Campbell, 2013), and most describe the chance to talk with friends as cathartic and validating. Researchers have also discovered that peers prompted survivors to disclose abuse to parents, who in turn helped teens to seek formal legal, medical, and therapeutic assistance (Campbell et al., 2013; Fehler-Cabral & Campbell, 2013). Stark et al. (2016) found that not all survivors received care and comfort from others. Instead, stigma, blame, and other negative responses from others seriously compromised young people’s well-being, indicating that social networks can contribute to harm as well as healing.
Young survivors’ narratives reveal that youths have a steadfast and unshakable sense of their own abilities, regardless of their connections with others. Youths assert that they have considerable faith in their “personal power” (Haffejee & Theron, 2019), which is variously described as having agency, determination, resourcefulness, and competence (Haffejee & Theron, 2019; Henry, 2002; Jarabe & Rahayuwati, 2024; Phasha, 2010). In Jarabe and Rahayuwati's (2024) study, adolescents described themselves as dedicated to working hard, lifting themselves up, fighting for survival, and being committed to building positive futures. Phasha (2010, p. 1245) noted that the girls in her study clung to the idea that their lives would improve, and youth in Çınar et al.'s ( 2020) work believed that their future would provide stability if they “stayed strong” (Çınar et al., 2020, p. 88), “endeavored” (Çınar et al., 2020, p. 87), and “invested in their growth” (Çınar et al., 2020, p. 87). Youths’ stories also reveal a link between visions of a positive future and education. For example, those in Haffejee and Theron's (2017), Phasha's (2010), and Çınar et al.'s (2020) research believed that doing well in school would help them overcome their troubled pasts; thus, dedicating themselves to school was one way youths maintained a hopeful view of the future.
Some also discussed being devoted to and concerned for the welfare of others, also known as altruism (Henry, 2002; Jarabe & Rahayuwati, 2024; Pessoa et al., 2017). Altruistic young people tend not to feel alone, understanding that there are others who have lived through CA. Henry (2002, p. 295) explained the altruism-resilience link by arguing that: “If being valued is not provided by parents, resilient individuals are capable of attaining it through a perceived valuing of others.” Moreover, some young CA survivors felt that they possessed information, competencies, and life experiences that could assist other survivors (Henry, 2002; Jarabe & Rahayuwati, 2024; Pessoa et al., 2017). Consequently, altruism provided a sense of purpose for youths, and some believed that being able to advocate for others was one positive outcome of CA (Henry, 2002; Jarabe & Rahayuwati, 2024; Pessoa et al., 2017).
Importantly, CA researchers have usually recruited young research participants who been separated from their families (Haffejee & Theron, 2019; Jarabe & Rahayuwati, 2024; Phasha, 2010). Consequently, most youth narratives are missing explorations of how young people adapt to life inside abusive families. Henry’s (2002) work is an exception, and she reveals how young people negotiate life within abusive families. Henry (2002, p. 289) revealed that youths maintained a sense of loyalty to parents and compartmentalized parents’ abuse, seeing their parents as good people who had “bad days.” They especially highlighted the good days, when a parent offered warmth, support, and love. Another coping mechanism was normalizing maltreatment, viewing it as “the way things are” (Henry, 2002, p. 289). Managing the routine of abuse included becoming “invisible” to the abuser, usually by steering clear of parents when tensions rose.
Although illuminating, young people’s recovery narratives remain a small subsection of the resilience literature. Thus, there is still much to be learned. Also, if it is true that, like adults, young survivors can adapt and cope with CA, then there is a pressing need to focus more of our attention on youths’ perspectives of CA and their coping strategies. The current study promises to add to our knowledge in at least two ways. First, because scholars insist that resilience is a process and not a set of traits, the teens’ narratives can help us see the everyday ways that adaption and coping with CA unfold among youths. Also, to date, the youths in Henry’s (2002) study are alone in describing ways of managing life in abusive families. The teens in the present study provide additional information on how youths negotiate unsafe living conditions.
From 2007 to 2019, I collected in-depth interviews with 16 high school students who took part in a group therapy program at Seaside High School. Seaside was a medium-sized public school (approximately 1,000 students) in Oahu, Hawaiʻi. The 16 interviewees were part of a larger study I conducted that was designed to examine the students’ everyday experience with school-based support services, and the study specifically evaluated whether these support services could help prevent youth violence and promote student well-being. As noted, the larger study was not designed to address the topic of CA. Despite this, 16 teens who did interviews with me discussed their experiences with and attempts to make sense of CA.
There were two phases of recruitment for the study, including inclusion in the counseling groups and the interviews. The support group, called the Students on the Move (SOM) program, began in 2007 and was designed and facilitated by three Seaside counselors. SOM was intended to extend the mental health and support services at Seaside, offering an array of curricular subjects and activities for students who were struggling with a variety of challenges (e.g., anger, anxiety, fighting, and alienation from school). The SOM groups met once a week and were intended to be “safe spaces,” with the counselors defining a safe space as a location where students would not be judged or condemned.
To recruit students to the SOM groups, counselors invited students with whom they worked one-on-one to join the program. Some SOM teens invited their friends to join. From 2007 to 2019, 20–25 students were invited to attend either the girls’ or boys’ group each year, and approximately seven girls and seven boys participated regularly in the SOM sessions every year. The girls’ and boys’ groups were held in separate rooms in Seaside’s counseling center, and the sessions lasted through a lunch period (45 minutes).
The second stage of recruitment included my invitation to students to conduct in-depth interviews with me. Recruitment for interviews followed the opportunistic research tradition (Riemer, 1977). As part of the qualitative evaluation study of the SOM program and violence prevention, I attended the weekly SOM meetings and engaged in its activities: completing and discussing assignments, doing creative projects, and taking part in numerous excursions (e.g., field trips, overnight camping trips, and hikes) with SOM students. In some years, I regularly attended the girls’ group. In other years, I took part in the boys’ group, and there were several activities that included girls and boys each year. I brought food for the students (usually pizzas). Therefore, the students got to know me as one among a few adults who were part of the SOM groups.
I recruited teens by making announcements about my research during SOM sessions. I let the SOM adolescents know the purpose of the study—to glean their views of Seaside’s school-based support services and youth violence prevention. I also handed out parent consent and student assent forms, clearly noting that students’ participation in the interviews was voluntary and would not affect their ability to take part in the SOM groups. During the study, 56 SOM students returned signed parent-consent and student-assent forms and completed an interview with me. Of the 56 students who were interviewed, 16 adolescents talked about their experiences of being abused as children and their efforts to cope with this reality. The present study focuses on these 16 adolescents.
The 16 students were between the ages of 14 and 17 and were evenly split by gender (eight girls and eight boys). I used adolescents’ self-reports to determine their racial identifications. Twelve students (75%) reported being of Native Hawaiian ancestry, including five girls and seven boys (see table 1). Two girls were White (12.5%), one girl was African American, and one boy was Latino. One girl experienced abuse between the ages of one and three, while the remaining adolescents discussed being abused between the ages of five and 12. Their accounts of past abuse indicated a range of maltreatment from neglect (homelessness and food insecurity) to parental substance abuse and family violence; to physical, verbal, and sexual assault by caretakers and sexual assault by nonfamily members.
Table 1: Participants, Childhood Maltreatment, & Living Arrangements
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
Outward Acrimony Group | |||||||||||
P1 | F | X | X | X | X | ||||||
P2 | F | X | X | X | X | ||||||
P3 | F | X | X | X | X | X | X | ||||
P4 | M | X | X | X | X | X | |||||
P5 | M | X | X | X | X | X | |||||
P6 | M | X | X | X | |||||||
P7 | M | X | X | X | X | ||||||
Inward Acrimony Group | |||||||||||
P8 | F | X | X | ||||||||
P9 | M | X | X | X | X | ||||||
Forgiving Group | |||||||||||
P10 | F | X | X | ||||||||
P11 | F | X | X | X | |||||||
P12 | F | X | X | X | X | X | X | ||||
P13 | F | X | X | X | |||||||
P14 | M | X | X | X | X | X | |||||
P15 | M | X | X | X | |||||||
P16 | M | X | X | X | X | X |
NOTE: 1=Gender; 2=Homelessness; 3=Parental Addiction; 4=Outside Family Sexual Abuse; 5=Inside Family Sexual Abuse; 6=Inside Family Physical Abuse; 7=Parental Criminality; 8=Parental Incarceration; 9=Foster Home Placement; 10=Living with Other Family Members; 11=Living with Family
Regarding living arrangements and proximity to abusive adults, 11 of the 16 students who reported CA were not living with the offending adults for a variety of overlapping reasons. The reasons included parental incarceration, foster-care placement, parental separation, parental death, and/or informal family arrangements placing teens with other family members (see table 2). One student did not report that she had endured family violence; an adult stranger assaulted her. In the five cases in which maltreated children continued to live with the offending caretakers, the adolescents noted that their families had undergone significant changes. The changes included cessation of violence (n = 3) and improved financial well-being (n = 2), which granted more safety and stability to the teens.
Table 2: Participants’ Demographic Information
Student Pseudonyms | Gender | Race/Ethnicity* |
Arnette | Female | African American |
Barbara | Female | Native Hawaiian |
Brenna | Female | White |
Bryce | Male | Native Hawaiian |
Clara | Female | Native Hawaiian |
Clyde | Male | Native Hawaiian |
Kaʻone | Male | Native Hawaiian |
Keanu | Male | Native Hawaiian |
Kena | Male | Native Hawaiian |
Leanna | Female | Native Hawaiian |
Louis | Male | Latino |
Mara | Female | Native Hawaiian |
Markus | Male | Native Hawaiian |
Michaela | Female | Native Hawaiian |
Mitchell | Male | Native Hawaiian |
Zoey | Female | White |
* I do not include their race and ethnicity in the body of the paper because I do not want their racial or ethnic identity to be one of the first pieces of information that readers learn about the students.
I conducted face-to-face interviews in an empty room in the counseling center, and interviews lasted 60 minutes (on average), with the range being from 45 to 90 minutes. Because I did not want to interrupt students’ educational progress, I conducted all interviews at the end of the school year, after the students had completed their final exams but before the last day of school. This was typically a “down time” of year for students and teachers.
During interviews, I used an open-ended guide. The guide consisted of questions about the meanings, definitions, and nature of interpersonal violence and about teens’ experiences with and thoughts about the SOM program and other support systems. Because the guide included open-ended questions, interviews unfolded in a conversational format, allowing students to bring up topics that were important to them, but that were not included in the guide.
None of the SOM activities or curriculum focused on CA. At the time of the study, K–12 public school employees and University of Hawaiʻi staff were mandatory reporters; that is, they were required to report any case in which a student was being harmed or had indicated an intention to harm themselves. The counselors repeated these reporting mandates to students regularly. Additionally, my assent and consent forms indicated that I was required to report any case in which a teen was being abused or intended to harm themselves. None of the 16 students discussed current abuse.
This current study points to complicated ethical concerns regarding qualitative research among vulnerable populations. Before taking part in the SOM groups and recruiting interviews with teens, I received verbal permission to conduct research from Seaside counselors. I also received written permission to conduct the study from the principal of Seaside High School, the University of Hawaiʻi’s Office of Research Compliance, and the Hawaiʻi State Department of Education’s institutional review board (IRB). Thus, I closely followed the official institutional procedures to avoid exploiting or harming youths during the research. Because I never intended to research CA, none of my IRB approvals included any statement about my intention to focus on CA.
Regardless of my attempts to adhere to all safeguards, I did not know what to do when a student wanted to discuss past maltreatment. I was sure I could not ask any questions about abuse, and I was clear that if a teenager discussed being abused or maltreated in their current life, I would have had to report the case to the relevant authorities. What was I supposed to do, however, if a teen brought up maltreatment from their past and not their current life? I was not comfortable shutting down a student who voluntarily described past traumatic experiences, perceiving that doing so would have been disrespectful and disempowering. I also did not want to verbally probe for deeper discussions of CA and feared that encouraging discussions about CA would have been unethical, as well as a violation of IRB restrictions.
When the 16 teens discussed CA, I took a neutral and nonjudgmental stance. I allowed them to talk as much or as little about the subject as they wanted, and I did not interrupt them. I also avoided making any verbal or nonverbal gestures that might indicate negativity on my part. In essence, I acted as if they were discussing an ordinary subject, akin to the types of conversations about childhood that teens engage in regularly (e.g., holiday traditions, places they spent time, and meals they typically shared with family).
To systematically analyze how teens made sense of CA, I use grounded theory (GT) analysis techniques (Charmaz, 2014; Glaser & Strauss, 1967). GT analysis has been used in previous narrative studies with young CA survivors, making it an established tradition within narrative CA research (see Henry, 2002; Pessoa et al., 2017; Phasha, 2010). GT is an inductive method requiring researchers to read and reread interview transcripts (and other data), constantly comparing and contrasting data to identify common themes from the ground and analyzing up to larger social processes.
After reviewing transcripts multiple times, the next phase is to develop initial codes. Charmaz (2014, p. 109) wrote that “during initial coding we study fragments of data—words, lines, segments, and incidents—closely for their analytic import.” While rereading all transcripts, I created my first round of initial codes, which included inductive concepts and ideas such as “positive outlooks,” “negative outlooks,” “forgiving others,” “anger,” “asserting boundaries,” “acknowledging abuse,” “protecting parents,” “family bonds,” “trusting others,” “trusting self,” “being overwhelmed,” “hardship,” “blaming parents,” “independence,” and “competence.”
The next GT phase is focused coding. During focused coding, researchers make “decisions about which initial codes make the most analytical sense to categorize your data incisively and completely” (Charmaz, 2014, p. 138). While conducting focused coding, researchers ask questions about how initial codes are related to one another and to the larger body of data from which the codes are derived. For example, during focused coding, I noted that there was a continuum of responses to past abuse ranging from negative reactions to the abuse and abusers to positive reactions to family members who harmed them. I also noted that two teens focused most of their narratives on their frustrations about their current lives.
The next stage of GT analysis includes writing analytic memos, which Charmaz (2014, p. 162) described as the “pivotal intermediate step between data collection and writing drafts of papers.” After constructing focused codes, grounded theory researchers write about the importance of focused codes and their relationships to one another and the entire population of individuals in the study. While writing analytic memos, I found that students had a variety of coping processes. Those who fully acknowledged the harmful acts of caretakers held a negative view of their caretakers, and they used these negative evaluations to gain a sense of personal independence and competence. In addition, they used negative evaluations of their abusers to construct a positive sense of their futures. Teens who looked on the bright side of their past and their family lives were more likely than other youths to seek bonds and connections with others. They, too, had positive outlooks about the future. As noted above, two teens held a bleak view of their present and past; they were also leery about the future. Through memo writing, I identified three distinct processes for coping with abuse: (1) expressing anger toward others, (2) being overwhelmed, and (3) offering others compassion.
The teens’ methods of coping with CA tended to fall on a continuum between anger and compassion. Seven adolescents negatively evaluated abusive caregivers and wanted to sever contact with them, and these teens expressed anger at those who harmed them. A small group (n = 2) described being overwhelmed. Like those who expressed anger, they were openly dismayed. Unlike those who were upset at their abusers, these teens’ negative emotions tended to be expressed inwardly and were particularly focused on the challenges that CA introduced into their daily lives. Seven teens found solace in offering compassion to those who harmed them. These compassion-oriented teens also expressed an interest in maintaining family connections and bonds. These stances reflected a contrasting set of worldviews regarding CA; moreover, the anger–compassion continuum roughly corresponded to how teens developed their identities as people who had lived through what they called “shitty,” “harsh,” or “disappointing” experiences.
Seven teens (four boys and three girls) condemned the parties who had caused them pain. In all seven cases, parents or a parent were the target of the students’ negative emotions, and these adolescents shared harsh words about their caregivers’ “disappointing” behaviors. While descriptions of these teens as acrimonious might initially appear to undermine a strengths-based view of youth, it is important to note that some researchers have highlighted the therapeutic aspects of anger (Wasco & Campbell, 2002). Summarizing clinical findings, Chaffin, Wherry, and Dykman (1997, p. 228) stated that “clinicians have sometimes emphasized the benefit of direct or indirect expression of anger toward the abuser either via catharsis, direct confrontation, letter writing, symbolic expression of anger, and so on.”
The seven teens who were irritated with abusive adults might be said to have used direct expressions of anger to identify and negatively evaluate those responsible for their troubled pasts. In fact, these teens elevated themselves as being above those who harmed them. Therefore, putting down parents was a way for these youths to elevate themselves and their lives above those of their caretakers. These seven teens conceptualized the world in dichotomous terms, describing other people as either virtuous or corrupt, righteous or reprehensible, and in their minds, adult abusers were clearly lowly characters worthy of negative evaluations. Like the adult survivors in previous narrative studies, these teens used their negative evaluations of parents to take control over their own lives (see also Draucker et al., 2011; Gunnarsdóttir et al., 2021; Hall et al., 2009; Woodward & Joseph, 2003) and invest in a sense of certainty about themselves that enabled them to develop their “personal power” (Valentine & Feinauer, 1993, p. 221).
These seven teens did not just discursively set themselves apart from their harmful parents; they were also physically distant from these adults. Foster-care placements and parental incarceration allowed four of these adolescents to avoid abusive parents for most of their young lives. None of the four teens described growing up without parental contact as a hardship. Three of these students continued to live with the offending parents, and they coped by forming an emotional separation between themselves and adults in general. Instead of being like the youth in Henry’s (2002) study who made themselves invisible to their parents, these teens erased their parents and other adults from their lives. Thus, they made their parents and other adults invisible.
The brothers Bryce and Clyde did not report physical, sexual, or psychological abuse. The harm they experienced as children was neglect (homelessness, abandonment, and food insecurity). When discussing his past difficulties, Bryce criticized his mother, laying the blame for his “crappy” childhood at her feet. For example, he chastised her for abandoning the family “to go and do drugs”: “Once my mom left, it was devastating, no more mom figure. Why suffer that nine months and yet leave him? That’s stupid, you don’t think that’s a waste of time?” By the time Bryce was in high school, he and Clyde had been placed in foster care. Bryce expressed no interest in reestablishing contact with his mother, imagining that she was off someplace being “wasteful” and “stupid.”
Unlike Bryce, Clyde did not focus exclusively on their mother when blaming adults for his past. Instead, he negatively evaluated a long line of individuals in his family for neglect: “My parents are lousy parents. My grandparents, same old thing, I mean they didn’t have no success.” In contrast to the image of these “stupid,” “lousy,” and “unsuccessful” parents, Bryce and Clyde wanted to be excellent fathers. Clyde reflected on his plans:
I don’t want to be like my parents, living paycheck to paycheck. My son and my daughter, I’d like to be there for them. Financially, I want to just give them what they want, give them what I never had.
Believing that childhood hardships made him “grow up too fast,” Bryce focused on his future, which, like Clyde’s, included raising children:
So, what I got to do is to bust ass and try to do the best I can do. Provide for my future kids, give them something that I never had. I want to be the best that I can, provide the best. I’m going to have life lessons, a lot of life lessons to teach my kids. That’s the kind of lifestyle I want to get for my kids, a total opposite of what I had growing up.
Mara faced physical abuse and neglect as a child. Her parents, who were addicted to drugs, cycled in and out of jail and prison throughout her childhood, leading the state to place Mara with a foster family early in her life. Growing up without her mother and father gave Mara the space she needed to make sense of her past and her parents’ behaviors. She explained, “My parents did that [used drugs]. Do you really want to be like that? My dad is dead. My mom is like working at a hardware store.” Using her parents as a negative example, Mara dedicated herself to getting good grades, going to college, and embarking on a nursing career. Whereas she considered her parents “irresponsible” and “underachieving,” she viewed herself as “going places” and “thriving.” Thus, Mara was like youths in other narrative studies who fostered a sense of hope about the future by investing in education.
Bryce, Clyde, and Mara demonstrate that survivors do not have to wait until adulthood to establish resilience. Mara found satisfaction in getting good grades and working toward becoming a nurse. Bryce and Clyde imagined becoming fathers, and their future family aspirations brought them great joy.
Like Mara’s mother and father, Leanna’s parents abused substances and found themselves in and out of jail and prison when Leanna was young. Leanna’s older sister became her caretaker. Unlike Mara, Leanna was unable to avoid parental contact because Leanna’s father was eventually released from prison, entered an addiction recovery program, and attempted to reunite with his family. Leanna found his attempts “to be a father” irksome:
All four of us kids are so independent. We don’t like when dad shows up. Like, “What are you doing here? Just go.” We shut him out. He’s trying to get back into our lives. It’s too late. We don’t want no one there.
The brothers Markus and Mitchell described a violent homelife during childhood. The primary culprit in family upheavals was their father, who was known to have an explosive temper and a penchant for solving problems with his fists when the boys were young. Instead of exclusively disparaging their father, the brothers shunned all adults. Throughout their time in the SOM groups, the boys rarely mentioned their homelives; according to their reports, when they were not at school or sleeping, they were outside “cruising” in their neighborhood and hanging out with friends. Carving out an existence separate from the family proved satisfying for Mitchell and Markus. As Markus remarked, “I wouldn’t change my life for anything. I love my life just the way it is.”
In addition to reporting their satisfaction with their autonomous lifestyle, the boys maintained that adults should “keep to themselves” and not intervene in teenagers’ affairs. During our interview, Markus mentioned having a problem with another boy at school, and I asked him if there was an adult with whom he could discuss this challenge. Markus quickly responded, “I think when adults get involved, they just make it worse.” Later in the interview, Markus expanded on his stance regarding adult–teen interactions, offering the following insight: “I would just advise you not to get involved. Yeah, I know how hard it is not to get involved, but I would say that you’re just being overprotective.” Unlike the youths in Henry’s (2002) study who removed themselves when adults entered the room, these boys insisted that adults maintain a distance from them, thus establishing their right to move freely in the world and insisting that adults keep their distance.
Michaela, Markus and Mitchell’s sister, highlighted how girls carved out independent spaces for themselves in high-conflict families. Like her brothers, Michaela neither talked about nor trusted adults in the family. Unlike her brothers, however, Michaela was not free to roam the streets and hang out with friends, because she was expected to help her mother clean, cook, and caretake for her ailing grandparents. She coped with this reality through introversion and by developing a strong sense of self-reliance, similar to young CA survivors in other studies.
During her junior year of high school, Michaela was physically threatened by another girl at Seaside, which made her fearful of attending school. When I asked Michaela if there was anyone who could assist her, she described an unproductive talk with her counselor: “She was there when [the threat] happened, but she was just talking to me. But when she talks to me, she keeps bringing up all sorts of stuff, and it’s like it’s pissing me off.” Michaela noted that, because of this unsatisfying experience, she decided to keep the problem to herself: “I’m trying to be mature about it. I can take care of my own stuff.”
These seven teens’ stories are consistent with the narratives of other CA survivors, especially those who describe acknowledging abuse as cathartic. These teens had effectively avoided blaming themselves for past harms by shifting the responsibility for their maltreatment to the offending adults (Arias & Johnson, 2013; Easton et al., 2015). Because these teens were upset at one or both of their parents, their primary coping strategy might be understood as a desire for independence, autonomy, and separation from those who had harmed them. For Markus, Mitchell, and Michaela, living a life free from abuse meant keeping adults at arm’s distance, indicating that teenagers are capable of setting firm boundaries. Importantly, these teens found great satisfaction in their current lives and cultivated hope for their futures, seeing themselves as capable of succeeding in ways their caregivers had not.
Two teens were overcome by negative emotions when discussing CA, but they did not use their acrimony to elevate themselves above those who had abused them. They focused their negative evaluations on their own lives and, more specifically, on the challenges CA forced them to confront. According to these teens, past events were “terrible,” and their lives were marred and overwhelming as a result. Thus, these teens’ narratives match the images that some adult survivors offer in which childhood and adolescence were a time of great suffering (Draucker and Petrovic, 1996; Draucker, 1992; Godbey and Hutchinson, 1996).
Because Arnette was sexually assaulted by an adult stranger as a child, she was not close to the offender. As a result, she did not spend much time thinking about him. Acknowledging that what happened to her was “traumatic” and “life changing,” Arnette discussed a complex range of everyday challenges that resulted from CA. By her teen years, Arnette was diagnosed with anxiety and depression and was undergoing private therapeutic treatment for these conditions that burdened her and made it “really hard to function.” She described particularly bad days: “I can barely make it through the week sometimes. I go home. I don’t even do my homework. I go home and like shower, I change, and I curl up in bed and sit in bed.” On the cusp of high school graduation, Arnette was diagnosed with bipolar personality disorder, and she worried about this news: “I’m tired of like finding out there’s another thing wrong with me. It’s just very frustrating. And at this point, I’m just like, “Oh, you have a personality disorder, okay you’re officially a psycho.” Despite being overwhelmed by her newest diagnosis, Arnette was looking forward to graduation and told me that she enjoyed working closely with her therapist. She imagined that talk therapy would be able to assist her if she started to emotionally “drown” later in life.
Keanu’s father physically abused him and his brother when they were young. After a series of family negotiations, the brothers were taken in by other family members, and these informal arrangements meant that Keanu continued to be enmeshed in the family system as a teen. During our interview, Keanu openly discussed his past, and his descriptions revealed that CA remained top of mind. For example, one day he noted, “My real dad made me drink two cans of beer and made me smoke. I called the cops, and someone bailed him out. And he still abused us.”
Although his narratives portrayed his father as hurtful, Keanu expressed neither hate for nor compassion toward his father. Most of Keanu’s time was focused on everyday challenges. Trusting others and making friends was difficult, and Keanu preferred to be alone and “keep to himself.” Moreover, Keanu described managing his younger brother as a full-time task. According to Keanu, his brother had an explosive temper and often took his frustrations out on others. Keanu said, “My life will be ruined when my little bro comes to this school next year. He is not respectful. He is a psycho.”
During his junior year of high school, Keanu and his brother were moved to the continental United States to live with other family members. This new placement was not only temporary—it lasted only one year—but also failed to grant Keanu the safety he desired. When Keanu returned to Seaside for his senior year, he conducted a second interview with me and described what happened during his time away. His brother’s anger and physical strength increased, leading his brother to punch holes in walls and break down doors. Certain that he could not escape his brother’s violence, Keanu voluntarily committed himself to a residential mental health facility. Upon leaving the facility, Keanu moved back to Hawaiʻi and continued to receive treatment via outpatient services. His brother lived with other family members.
Although out of contact with his brother and parents, Keanu did not feel safe and secure. Instead, he expressed pessimism about his future and worried that he might face more challenges down the road. If his future life became too difficult—which Keanu surmised it would—then he would admit himself to a psychiatric hospital.
Arnette’s and Keanu’s stories highlight a pattern among teens who were distraught about CA. Because Arnette and Keanu were pessimistic about their current and future lives, access to support and services that would help them cope with the negative effects of CA was a primary concern for them. Their narratives indicate that the most important intervention for some CA survivors might be, first, increasing the range of support services available for CA survivors while they are young. Second, there is also a need to increase access to myriad systems of support for young CA survivors.
Seven teens (four girls and three boys) landed on the benevolent end of the angry to compassionate continuum. These teens’ positive appraisals of their parents unfolded in two ways. Some minimized or entirely disavowed their parents’ wrongdoing. Others acknowledged that the abuse was “hurtful” and “wrong.” However, like those in Henry’s (2002) study, they were loyal to their parents and compartmentalized their caregivers’ harmful behaviors. In the current study, compartmentalization included focusing on happy parts of their family lives despite past parental abuse. In these teens’ narratives, parents were protected from teens’ negative assessments and criticisms, enabling the youths to maintain a larger sense of belonging and connection within their families.
Barbara exemplified a compassionate stance. In the following, she recounted the events leading up to her foster care placement at two years of age:
I remember getting taken away around like two or two and a half [years old]. And I could remember my mom hiding me inside a house. It was sad because I was watching the tears drop from her face and like it made me cry.
Barbara did not use the words “abuse,” “harm,” or “neglect” when discussing her biological parents’ actions. In her mind, the events leading to her separation from her family were “mistakes” and “mishaps.” She said, “I had a tragic accident with my parents and stuff, and I got taken away from my family.” Continuing to characterize the CA she experienced as “accidents,” Barbara did not begrudge her parents: “Honestly, [my parents] made their mistakes. They’re not perfect. But it’s okay to learn from your mistakes and go ahead.”
Barbara was never reunited with her biological family, remaining in foster care throughout her childhood and teen years. Perpetually upbeat, Barbara found much to love about her foster family and her social groups at school. Her foster mother could turn a “sad, depressing day” into something special by organizing excursions to the beach, movies, or family barbecues, activities Barbara described as “full of fun.” Similarly, Barbara adored her classes and the SOM group, noting that school was “like home sweet home for me. Pretty much you guys all make me feel happy, and I love smiling every day.”
Like the teens in Henry’s (2002) study, the siblings Clara and Kaʻone expressed loyalty to and concern about their parents’ well-being, and especially about the undue stress their parents had endured. Due to health problems, their father was unable to work, making their mother the sole breadwinner. Kaʻone explained, “Mom works late night shifts, so it’s hard for her to stay up during the day. Dad, he’s going through some things. He’s losing weight too fast.” The inclination to shield their parents from critiques was also revealed in Clara’s upbeat spin on severe family upheavals. For example, when discussing being homeless for part of her life, Clara did not portray the experience as neglect:
Like there’s this one time in the past when we really didn’t have a house. So, we lived at the beach. I liked it. I didn’t like not living in a house. But I liked it because we got to go beach every day and sometimes skip school and go to beach.
Zoey, Brenna, Louis, and Kena acknowledged being abused as children. Nonetheless, they expressed loyalty to their parents, protecting these beloved family members from blame as they described the harmful events they endured as children. For example, Zoey shielded her mother from criticism when she described upsetting moments from her past:
I remember one night, my mom said she was gonna go out for a walk. We ended up walking outside the road for like two days straight. Me with no shoes in my school uniform. I think at one point in time, she got some money from this guy for touching me in certain areas. That’s not right. But it was mom. She needed money. But I also agree that it wasn’t right. But what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
In her narrative, Zoey vacillated between acknowledging and disavowing the abuse. Although she stopped short of saying that her mother sexually trafficked her, Zoey twice announced that her mother’s behavior “wasn’t right.” Zoey was also aware that “walking outside the road,” “for two days,” and “with no shoes” was a negative experience. At the same time, however, Zoey minimized her mother’s harmfulness through verbal excuses and justifications (Sykes & Matza, 1957). Zoey’s argument—“It was mom. She needed money”—was an appeal to higher loyalties in which her mother’s desire for money took priority over Zoey’s need for safety.
Brenna discussed being sexually harassed by her mother’s boyfriend as a child. Understanding that his comments about her body and his remarks that Brenna “looked sexy” were inappropriate, Brenna described feeling “sick to her stomach” when at home. Brenna also described her mother in loving terms, noting a deep respect for how hard her mother worked and saying that her mother was her “best friend.” Brenna worried that revealing the bad news about the abusive behavior would end her mother’s romantic relationship, and she did not want her mother to be lonely. Because the boyfriend did not touch her, Brenna felt that she could put up with his abusive comments for the sake of her mom’s happiness. Eventually, her mother broke up with the boyfriend, and Brenna vowed to keep the abuse a secret to protect her mother’s feelings.
Kena and Louis, two unrelated boys, recognized that male family members were abusive and violent, facts that lead the state to intervene in their lives during their childhoods. Kena was placed with a foster family, and Louis’s father was incarcerated. Unlike teens whose distance from their parents led them to criticize their abusers, Kena and Louis were in awe of male family members. Kena described battles in his household: “My family would fight at every party. I would bet money with my friends and say, ‘My uncle is gonna fight at this party.’ I used to love seeing that. I used to like these fights.” Louis offered a similar evaluation of his father’s violent reputation:
My dad is like a gang member. There’s benefits because it’s like protection. There was a riot one time where my grandma used to live. Then my dad walks out, and then they all leave. Cause like my dad could take on all those people. People really fear my dad and stuff. That is like pretty powerful.
Kena and Louis acknowledged that their fascination with adult males in the family represented a type of respect, but it was far from love and affection. For emotional warmth, they turned to other adults. Kena emphasized that his foster family gave him the foundation he needed for a stable life: “I feel a lot of things that I never felt with my dad. I feel safe. I feel loved.”
Louis considered his mother his “best friend” and described her as a loving caretaker. Throughout his interview, he noted that he turned to his mom for advice and identified with her approach to life, stating at one point that “I think I got my mom’s side. My mom likes to talk things out. I’m not really like my dad ’cause, his talking is yelling at people, making threats and stuff. I just like to talk things out.” Later, he noted:
When I was little my mom said that it’s okay to cry because it’s a sign that you’re alive. So, I don’t mind crying, it just helps me to release a lot of anger instead of holding it in. I’ll cry in front of people.”
Teens who were compassionate toward others and themselves did not see the prospect of dependence on adults or others as a problem. Instead, they noted enjoying the support and affection they received from family members (biological or foster). Thus, it seemed that some of the teens were like the adult survivors in narrative studies who had credited their well-being to their bonds with others (Arias & Johnson, 2013; Easton et al., 2015). It is also worth noting that these teens found satisfaction in their compassionate stance, indicating that adolescents, like adults, can find joy and meaning through their concern for others’ well-being (Arias & Johnson, 2013; Banyard & Williams, 2007; Gunnarsdóttir et al., 2021; Valentine & Feinauer, 1993).
This study drew from the narratives of 16 adolescents who faced various forms of maltreatment during their childhoods, thus offering a youth-centered perspective on surviving a range of CA experiences. As noted above, the study had two goals. First, it sought to improve our understanding of how young people coped with the aftermath of exposure to many types of CA. Second, it responded to Gal’s (2011) call to reveal young people’s (rather than adults’) “authentic perspectives and experiences” of CA survivorship.
To summarize the main findings, most of the 16 students had achieved a sense of well-being and life satisfaction. Also, there were three different strategies the teens used to cope with past CA, indicating that achieving resilience is a nuanced journey that can take divergent pathways in important ways. One pathway, which was forged by seven teens, was to reject their abusers and assert their own independence, competence, and personal power. Being openly angry and disappointed with abusers was part of the coping mechanisms used by these teens. Unlike their parents, who were seen as unsuccessful and weak characters, these seven teens felt that they could achieve academic and employment success and lead happy family lives. Most notably, these teens imagined that they could gain a sense of satisfaction and success on their own, without the help of others, especially adults.
Two young people in this study reported being overwhelmed and were bogged down in a problem-centered world view. They did not spend much time thinking or talking about the adults who harmed them, as most of their time was spent managing the effects of CA. The experiences of these two teens confirmed that early experiences of coping with CA can be marked by feelings of being overwhelmed, suffering, and multiple difficulties, and these two students reported struggling with depression, anxiety, and other mental health problems (see Jonson-Reid et al., 2012; Lansford et al., 2002; Latham et al., 2021; McLaughlin et al., 2020; Russotti et al., 2021). Unlike the adult survivors discussed in the literature, however, these teens developed ideas about ways move forward; having access to therapists and therapeutic services as teenagers allowed them to imagine that they could receive similar support services in the future.
Another seven teens took a different trajectory. Instead of being angry with adults or with their lives, these teens cultivated a sense of compassion toward those who harmed them. Like the young survivors in Henry’s (2002) study, their compassion included compartmentalizing their caregivers’ abuse and fostering sense of loyalty and emotional connection to family members. The kindness and understanding these teens offered to family also extended outward to peers and other adults more generally. Connection and belonging were what the second group of teens sought. Thus, instead of garnering positive feelings about themselves through their separation from adults, these youths invested in a sense of self-satisfaction through their warm relationships with others.
The findings from this study add several insights to the CA survival and resilience literature. First, the fact that 14 of 16 teens found great satisfaction in life provides a much-needed optimistic view of young people’s ability to find effective means of coping with CA before the age of 18. This optimistic view runs contrary to a plethora of bad news about CA in past studies. For example, large-scale quantitative studies measuring the effects of CA have linked CA with serious, long-term psychosocial outcomes. In narrative studies with adults (as opposed to large, quantitative investigations), CA survivors have reported slightly more positive outlooks in which resilience and a sense of well-being are possible. However, happiness and life satisfaction emerged during adulthood, after survivors could benefit from adult-specific opportunities (e.g., autonomy, advanced degrees, professional accomplishments, marriage, and raising families).
Without adult-specific opportunities, however, survivors reported that childhood and adolescence were difficult. Analogies such as living in a dungeon (Draucker & Petrovic, 1996) and being buried alive (Godbey & Hutchinson, 1996) imply the presence of intensely negative realities during the early phases of overcoming CA. Moreover, in past studies, adults indicated that they could not identify a way out of hardships and were trapped in a problem-centered worldview when they were young (Anderson & Hiersteiner, 2007). The assumption, therefore, has been that survivors must wait to gain a sense of well-being and life satisfaction.
The second contribution of this study is that it confirms what we know from the small, but important body of narrative research with young CA survivors (Çınar et al., 2020; Haffejee & Theron, 2019; Henry, 2002; Jarabe & Rahayuwati, 2024; Pessoa et al., 2017; Phasha, 2010; Stark et al., 2016). Young CA survivors are far from being passive recipients of harm who are buried under and imprisoned by negative experiences. Moreover, even without the freedoms and opportunities afforded to adults, young CA survivors can find happiness and well-being.
A third insight of this study highlights the process-oriented nature of resilience. As noted, the research regarding resilience tends to present resilience as a set of attributes, factors, or traits that an individual may or may not possess. In contrast, the students in this research described distinct coping mechanisms rather than traits, including “expressing anger,” “being overwhelmed,” and “offering compassion.” The processes used by teens reveal resilience as pathways and healing journeys rather than collections of static traits or assets that the young people possessed. Importantly, regardless of which process the teens used to manage CA, all of the adolescents were purposeful and creative in crafting responses to CA.
A fourth contribution of this study is that, taken as a whole, none of the strategies that teens used were free of harm. The two students who were overwhelmed and consumed with worry were clearly worthy of concern and indicate a continued need to make assisting CA survivors a priority in research, policy, and practice. Although they expressed happiness and well-being, the healing journeys of the 14 teens who reported being satisfied with life were not entirely without potential problems. For example, some practitioners might worry that teens who expressed anger at their abusers, relied on themselves, and set rigid boundaries with adults may also lack the ability to trust others and develop a sense of belonging. Conversely, practitioners might see compassionate teens as failing to fully acknowledge the abuse they experienced and as placing their caretakers’ needs and wants above their own. For the teens in this study, the lived reality of gaining resilience in the aftermath of CA was a mixed prospect that was neither entirely helpful nor harmful.
The present study offers some takeaways for researchers, policy makers, and practitioners. First, it is important for more researchers to rely on narrative investigations that allow survivors to tell their stories using their own language and definitions. This narrative research will minimize researchers’ voices, constructs, and (in some cases) their research questions. Trusting survivors to offer comprehensive narratives about how they make sense of and cope with harm is essential to identifying nuanced and multilayered processes inherent in resilience—a view that tends to be missing in the literature to date. Also, when it presents no harm to young people, narrative studies should include young people’s views, given that survivors’ interpretations of their own resilience tend to be divided by age. As noted, adults tend to indicate that resilience is not likely until adult-level opportunities are available. The current study and others (Çınar et al., 2020; Haffejee & Theron, 2019; Henry, 2002; Jarabe & Rahayuwati, 2024; Pessoa et al., 2017; Phasha, 2010), however, demonstrate that young people can establish a sense of well-being and happiness before turning 18. Consequently, young people’s voices should be at the center of policy, practice, and research.
For practitioners, the divergent resilience pathways revealed in this study indicate the need for a variety of support systems. The most important policy implication when considering interventions with CA survivors is to consider ways to ensure that current and future support systems are well resourced. As Haffejee and Theron (2019, p. 701) assert, young people’s agency can only lead to resilience within supportive and well-resourced ecologies. Thus, there is a need to ensure that institutions like schools, communities, and youth-serving agencies are equipped with the necessary resources to meet young people halfway in their recovery processes.
When equipping institutions with resources to help young people, there is also a need to offer a range of modalities. For some teens, one-on-one assistance with counselors, teachers, and mentors might be helpful. However, for teens who do not trust adults, group-based support and other innovations might be more appealing. Generally, any intervention should acknowledge young people’s strengths, creativity, and agency as practitioners and advocates work with youth to access healing opportunities. Given that the two teens who noted being overwhelmed also imagined a future in which they might need support services, there is a continued need make support available for individuals as they cross the adolescence/adulthood divide.
There are many limitations of this study. Because the study was not longitudinal, there is no way to know if the teens adopted different perspectives as they aged. The senses of well-being and life satisfaction reported in this study might be time-limited responses. Also, 16 individuals represents a relatively small sample, although narrative studies with youthful CA survivors tend to rely on small numbers of youth, in fact seven young people is the median sample size in the narrative literature (see Çınar et al., 2020; Haffejee & Theron, 2019; Henry, 2002; Jarabe & Rahayuwati, 2024; Pessoa et al., 2017; Phasha, 2010). The small sample and qualitative nature of this study make the findings ungeneralizable to young people more broadly.
Another limitation is that I did not ask about CA—the students volunteered the information. It is possible that more SOM students experienced CA but did not talk about it. Given all the limitations, the fact that 87.5% of study members reported being happy and satisfied with their lives despite CA could be an anomaly. Regardless of limitations, the study provides one of the larger narrative examinations of diverse coping mechanisms that youth employ to manage CA, and it is a starting point for further investigations.
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Katherine Irwin’s Biographical Satement
Katherine Irwin, PhD, is a professor of sociology at the University of Hawaiʻi, Manoa. Her research areas include youth studies, women and drug use, youth violence, girls in the juvenile justice system, school-based mental health services, and the schools-to-jails pipeline. She is the co-author, with Meda Chesney-Lind, of Beyond Bad Girls: Gender, Violence, and Hype. Her manuscript, Jacked Up and Unjust: Pacific Islander Teens Confront Violent Legacies (written with Karen Umemoto), was named the best book of 2018 by the American Sociological Association’s Section on Asia and Asian America.
I received permission from the principal of Seaside High School, the University of Hawaiʻi’s Office of Research Compliance, and the Hawaiʻi State Department of Education’s research review board to write field notes about the SOM groups and to interview SOM teens. I received signed assent forms and parent consent forms granting me permission to include high school students in this study.
Katherine Irwin, PhD, is a professor of sociology at the University of Hawaiʻi, Manoa. Her research areas include youth studies, women and drug use, youth violence, girls in the juvenile justice system, school-based mental health services, and the schools-to-jails pipeline. She is the co-author, with Meda Chesney-Lind, of Beyond Bad Girls: Gender, Violence, and Hype. Her manuscript, Jacked Up and Unjust: Pacific Islander Teens Confront Violent Legacies (written with Karen Umemoto), was named the best book of 2018 by the American Sociological Association’s Section on Asia and Asian America.