The Echo in Our Throats
How traumatic stress affects singers, vocalists, + educators.
We talk a lot about “trauma” as a thing that happens TO someone; however, there’s another layer many of us in the arts and education live with every day that others might benefit from knowing about - the stress that comes from witnessing and/or carrying other people’s pain.
Two useful phrases:
Secondary traumatic stress (STS) - according to the National Child Traumatic Stress Network, secondary traumatic stress is the real mental, emotional, and physical strain that comes from hearing about someone else’s trauma. It can show up like nightmares, tension, jumpiness, irritability, or trouble focusing - even when nothing “direct” happened to you.
Vicarious trauma (VT) - the gradual, cumulative change in how one can view the world after long exposure to others’ trauma. Over time, it can erode your sense of safety, trust, and meaning, as defined by the APA Dictionary of Psychology.
If you sing, teach, coach, or facilitate especially within communities carrying generational and systemic harm, you already know that the work lives in your body - you are affected by what you hold. Over time, this emotional and energetic labor can manifest as secondary traumatic stress or vicarious trauma, quietly shaping how you show up in your art, classroom, or community space. I’ll share what I’ve learned about how this shows up in singers, vocalists, educators, and teaching artists who exists across privilege, power, and marginalization and why it hits certain communities harder. More importantly, I’ll offer practices for protecting your nervous system and your voice using Integrative Vocal Wellness™ which bridges my trainings in positive psychology, anti-racism, music therapy, and social-emotional learning. This framework honors the voice not just as an instrument of expression, but as a sacred portal for collective healing and individual wellbeing.
Researchers call the long-term wear and tear from chronic and structural stress weathering. According to the American Journal of Public Health, weathering is the belief that living under discrimination, scarcity, and institutional neglect accelerates aging and risk for illness because the stress never lets up. Add to that the acute shocks we all see and hear (violent videos on our timelines, hate crimes in the news, community tragedies, etc.) and you’ll soon realize that we don’t have to be physically present to be impacted. A landmark study from The Lancet found that police killings of unarmed Black Americans had measurable, population-level mental health effects on Black adults living in the same state - a clear example of vicarious harm traveling through media and conversation.
This is why “just ignore the news” isn’t a real solution, and why our arts + education spaces need trauma-aware practices baked into the culture, not just tacked on at the end. The Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration’s foundational framework for trauma-informed care makes this point clearly: safety, trust, choice, collaboration, empowerment/ voice/ choice, and cultural/historical awareness must be organizational commitments and not just slogans. The following are some examples of what this looks like in real life (in plain language) for professionals that use their voices:
For singers and vocalists of all backgrounds:
Tight throat and/ or shallow breathing after a heavy story or violent video. You go to warm up and your body won’t let you take a full inhale. You push and your sound feels squeezed. That’s not “bad technique” - it’s your threat system narrowing the airway and bracing your torso to “keep you safe” (translation: your voice is showing you the truth).
Setlist avoidance. You skip a song that always lands because the lyrics now cue images you can’t unsee. You’re not “unprofessional” - your nervous system is protecting you from re-exposure.
Emotional whiplash. You cry during rehearsal and feel numb by showtime. That numbing isn’t failure - it’s your body’s temporary armor.
If you’re privileged (more safety, resources, and institutional backing), you may still experience these things, especially when your work brings you close to others’ pain; however, you often have buffers that others don’t have - better healthcare, more schedule flexibility, and a team to triage. According to the American Journal of Public Health, if you’re subjugated and/ or marginalized by systems (targeted by racism, classism, homophobia/transphobia, ableism, xenophobia, etc.), you carry baseline stress plus exposure and often less institutional protection, according to the American Journal of Public Health. The same gig hits harder and recovery takes longer - that’s weathering in action.
For educators and teaching artists - both privileged and marginalized::
After-school spirals. A student discloses violence at home. You drive home replaying it, then stare at the ceiling until 2 a.m. Classic secondary trauma stress: you didn’t choose it, your care system kicked in.
“I feel nothing anymore.” After months of being “the strong one,” you find yourself detached. That blunted feeling is a sign your body has been overdosing on stress and is shutting off sensation to cope, often referred to as “compassion fatigue”.
Hypervigilant classroom. Sirens, slammed doors, loud laughter. You flinch, scan the exits, and overcorrect behavior. You’re not “overreacting” - you’re living with a charged alarm system from repeated exposure.
In predominantly privileged institutions, STS can come both from what students bring and from the institution’s own blind spots: performative “inclusion,” unrealistic caseloads, and a culture that avoids saying “trauma” out loud until something explodes. In marginalized-serving institutions, you may be the stopgap for everything (teacher, counselor, “auntie”/”uncle”, fundraiser, etc.) with too little support to come down from crisis mode (the National Child Traumatic Stress Network has specific guidance naming educators as a high-exposure group for STS; if it feels familiar, that’s because it is).
Daily “small” harms that add up. Even when there’s no headline, the “little” things cut: a colleague’s “You’re so articulate” from a colleague in a faculty meeting, a dress-code note about your hair, a casting note that boils you down to somebody’s stereotype. Psychologist Derald Wing Sue calls these microaggressions - common slights that communicate who belongs and who doesn’t - and the research links them to worse mental health. In the arts and schools, microaggressions are not small - they are daily exposures that keep the trauma alarm system humming.
The voice is a whole-body instrument. Treat secondary trauma stress and vicarious stress as whole-body events. So, how can singers and vocalists protect their instrument as well as the human attached to it?
Simple reset before you sing
2 minutes of low humming on an easy pitch, feeling vibration on lips/cheeks.
4–6 slow breaths with longer exhales (e.g., inhale 4, exhale 6–8).
Gentle neck/shoulder/side-body stretch to “make space” for breath.
If images intrude, orient your reality: name 5 things you can see, 4 things you can feel, 3 things you can hear (you’re telling your brain: “We’re here, not there”).
Build a “no-graphic-content” boundary | Ask trusted friends or team members to summarize community events without sharing videos. This isn’t avoidance - it’s harm reduction. Population-level data show that widely circulated violent content can damage mental health in the affected community.
Re-permission your repertoire | Give yourself permission to drop or rewrite a song if it keeps tripping the alarm. You can return when your body feels safe again…..or never. Art evolves because we do.
Name it out loud | “I’m carrying some secondary trauma today. I’m going to simplify the set and take more space between songs.” Naming reduces shame, invites help, and models care for your audience/ensemble/class.
Anchor in community | Humming circles, call-and-response chants, or 60-second “shake-outs” in rehearsal can discharge stress. They also remind everyone that we’re not doing this alone.
Know help routes | NAMI offers education and support (including free, self-paced trauma awareness training designed for youth-serving adults) and local affiliates that can point you to group support. Share these links on your team’s resource sheet.
A few suggestions on how educators and teaching artists can care for themselves and their rooms:
Adopt a team “debrief and down-shift” ritual | After tough days: 15–20 minutes for a quick circle - content note, 1 feeling word, what support is needed, and who’s doing what next. The goal isn’t fixing everything - it’s discharging (NCTSN’s fact sheets normalize STS among child-serving professionals and outline prevention strategies - share them at staff meetings).
Use trauma-aware classroom moves | Predictability (clear openings/closings), choice (opt-out options), co-regulation (breathe together before a hard discussion), and sensory resets (stand, stretch, sip water). None of this is “extra” - it’s how safety is taught as a practice
Name your scope | You are not a 24/7 crisis line. Create and post a referral tree (counselor, social worker, local hotline, etc.) and use it. Students and families deserve the full net, not one heroic person burning out.
Push for organizational change | Trauma-informed care is not individual self-care. It is about policy and culture. SAMHSA’s six principles offer a blueprint. Ask: Where do our policies reduce re-traumatization? Where do they cause it? Bring receipts and proposed fixes.
The Difference in Impact on Privileged vs. Subjugated/ Marginalized artists & educators
Let’s be honest about power. Two singers (one privileged and one marginalized) can perform at the same funeral, hear the same gunshots, and read the same headlines; however, their bodies won’t necessarily carry the stress in the same way:
Privileged artists and educators may still hurt and need support; STS/VT is human; however, they often have insulation: healthcare access, spiritual directors, and/or therapists on speed dial who have smaller caseloads. They tend to also live in safer neighborhoods and be afforded institutional grace when they set boundaries.
Subjugated and marginalized artists and educators (e.g., Black, Brown, Indigenous, immigrant, disabled, LGBTQ+, poor/working-class, etc.) usually carry baseline stress from discrimination, surveillance, and economic precarity, plus acute exposure to the very traumas publicized in the media. Evidence shows these community-level shocks, such as police killings of unarmed Black Americans, measurably degrade mental health in the surrounding Black community - even with no direct contact. That’s vicarious trauma at scale. When subjugated and marginalized artists and educators layer on the daily microaggressions in classrooms, rehearsal halls, and auditions (those small cuts that tell you your voice, hair, skin, accent, body, or faith is “off-script”), the load becomes heavier much faster.
This is why the same “self-care tips” don’t land the same way across lines of power and why the responsibility to change conditions sits most with those who hold that power. Concrete responsibilities for institutions (studios, schools, ensembles, venues)
Make SAMHSA’s six principles operational | Don’t just train; budget and schedule for each principle so they show up in daily practice in arts education:
Safety: predictable call times/class starts; posted content notes; “no-surprise” heavy material; quiet cool-down spaces; post-crisis schedule slack.
Trustworthiness & Transparency: plain-language updates about changes, incidents, and next steps; publish rehearsal/class flow; clear “who to contact for what.”
Peer Support (often called “peer review” in arts/ed circles): paid monthly peer circles (50–60 min) for debrief and skill-share; a buddy system for first-year faculty/section leaders; optional peer observation with no evaluative tie; a 10–15 minute peer debrief within 24 hours of critical incidents.
Collaboration & Mutuality: students and staff on a rotating policy committee; co-create rehearsal/class agreements; two-way feedback rituals (“what helped / what to change”).
Empowerment, Voice, & Choice: opt-outs and alternative assignments without penalty, multiple participation modes (speak, write, hum, gesture), and allow pronouns/names/mic-use preferences to be honored.
Cultural, Historical, & Gender Responsiveness: hair/attire policies that don’t police identity; repertoire selection with historical/context notes; trans-inclusive facilities; guest artists reflecting community identities.
Create a media exposure policy | No graphic videos in staff chats or classes. Content notes on heavy material. Opt-in, never opt-out. Post action links (mutual aid, vigils, advocacy) instead of spectacle (the mental health case for this policy is strong).
Resource the buffers | Pay for regular clinical supervision for high-exposure staff, fund peer support circles, and provide scheduled slack after crises. Evidence reviews suggest multi-level strategies (individual + organizational) are most promising for vicarious trauma and secondary trauma stress.
Audit microaggressions and gatekeeping | Use validated frameworks to review casting, evaluation rubrics, dress/hair codes, “professionalism” standards, and complaint pathways. Track harms and fix patterns - not just incidents.
Educate with reputable partners | NAMI’s TraumaInSight is a free, self-paced primer designed for youth-serving professionals - a concrete step toward shared language and better frontline responses. Pair it with local, culturally grounded facilitation.
Real-World Scenarios + How To Respond
Scenario 1: The choir room after a community tragedy
What you might feel: tight chest, buzzing jaw, racing thoughts.
What to try (3-5 minutes):
sit or stand tall
6 slow breaths with long exhales
hum on “mm” softly
shake arms/legs for 30 seconds
Invite the room to name one word for how they feel
Adjust rehearsal goals to “gentle maintenance.”
What to say: “I’m noticing secondary trauma stress in the room. We’ll keep it light today. If you need to sit out, you can.”
Scenario 2: Your private music student shares a violent incident
What you might feel: immediate protectiveness, then emotional numbness.
What to try:
hold the boundary: listen, thank them, and connect them to the referral tree.
After class, do a 10-minute debrief with a colleague,
put one low-demand task on your calendar next
What to say (to yourself): “This feeling has a name called secondary trauma stress, and it doesn’t mean I failed.”
Scenario 3: You keep seeing graphic videos related to your identity
What you might feel: anger, sadness, dread; a pull to keep watching “to stay informed.”
What to try: ask a friend to be your “news filter” and send text-only summaries + action links. Turn off autoplay. Replace nightly scrolling with a 10-minute walk or warm shower.
Why it matters: community-level exposure has documented mental health impacts - guarding your feed is not denial - it’s care.
Scenario 4: Microaggressions in rehearsal
What you might feel: heat, shame, urge to disappear.
What to try: breathe, name it later with support, document patterns, and use institutional complaint routes that actually protect you. Leaders: step in without making the target do the work.
Why it matters: repeated microaggressions are not “thin skin” - they’re cumulative nervous-system hits linked with worse mental health.
A Special Note on Youth Spaces
If you work with children and teenagers, remember: you are part of their nervous system training. Calm, predictable openings, co-regulation when topics get heavy, and clear referral paths model safety that they can carry into adulthood. NAMI’s TraumaInSight course was literally built to put basic trauma literacy into the hands of youth-serving adults - consider doing it together as a team so the language sticks.
Language you can use (copy/paste as needed):
“I’m noticing secondary traumatic stress after this week’s events; I’m going to simplify rehearsal and build in longer breaks.” (NCTSN)
“We need a no-graphic-content policy for staff/group chats. Evidence shows community exposure to violent videos harms mental health.” (The Lancet)
“If we call ourselves trauma-informed, that has to show up in our policies - safety, trust & transparency, peer support, collaboration with mutuality, empowerment of voice and choice, all through a cultural & historical lens - not just our language.”
Solid next steps to consider (today, not someday)
Take one trauma-informed training session together. Enroll your team in NAMI TraumaInSight and set a debrief date to pick 2–3 policy changes you’ll make from it. (NAMI)
Post your referral tree near your classroom or studio door (counselor, social worker, local hotlines). Use it.
Create a 10-minute debrief habit after high-exposure moments (feelings word → what I need → who’s on point → when we check back).
Write your media boundary and stick it to your monitor: “No autoplay; summaries only; actions > spectacle.” (The Lancet)
Leaders: put SAMHSA’s six principles on your next agenda and attach budget lines to them. Safety costs time and money - fund it.
Some Additional Words For Your Heart
You are not “too sensitive.” You are a human instrument that was created and tuned for connection. Secondary traumatic stress and vicarious stress are signs that your empathy is working in an environment that asks too much of it. The work is not to become hardened - the work is to resource you and re-design the systems around you.
If you are on the privileged side of power, your job is to make sure your care never becomes someone else’s harm. Change policies, change habits, and redistribute resources so the people most affected can breathe and work in the healthiest environment possible. If you are on the subjugated side, you deserve rooms that treat everyone’s nervous systems like sacred ground. Your voice is not a faucet to be turned on regardless of context. Your body knows what it’s doing - let it lead.
Sources & further reading:
Definitions & educator resources: National Child Traumatic Stress Network - Secondary Traumatic Stress (NCTSN)
Vicarious trauma (concept): APA Dictionary of Psychology - vicarious traumatization. (APA Dictionary)
Trauma-informed systems: SAMHSA - Concept of Trauma and Guidance for a Trauma-Informed Approach. (SAMHSA)
Weathering (chronic structural stress): Geronimus A.T. et al., American Journal of Public Health (2006). (American Journal of Public Health)
Media-mediated community trauma: Bor J. et al., The Lancet (2018) - police killings’ spillover effects on Black Americans’ mental health. (The Lancet)
Microaggressions (daily exposures): Derald Wing Sue et al., American Psychologist (2007). (PubMed)
NAMI (free training & learning): TraumaInSight overview for youth-serving adults; “Hope Starts With Us” episodes on racism as an adverse childhood experience. (NAMI)
Interventions overview: Kim J. et al., 2021 scoping review on vicarious trauma interventions (multi-level strategies). (PMC)
Your voice is sacred. It matters, not just as a tool for other people’s healing but as a sanctuary for your own. Let’s keep building rooms where art and education don’t require us to swallow harm to do good, and where safety is a shared practice, not a private burden.
With love + vitality,
Shauna.
