No Other Land, No Other Choice: A Trauma-Informed Reckoning with Occupation

"Survival is not justice. Endurance is not healing. If we are truly trauma-informed, we must refuse to normalize suffering—anywhere, for anyone." - Mary Coughlin

I was watching the Oscars, celebrating the brilliance of storytelling—the way film has the power to make us feel, to help us see the world through someone else’s eyes. There are so many extraordinary creatives who capture the lived experiences of our fellow human beings, who hold up a mirror to both the beauty and the brutality of our world. And I am grateful to every single one of them.

But one film, in particular, stopped me in my tracks.

No Other Land is not just a documentary. It is a witness. It is a reckoning. It is a refusal to let suffering be forgotten.

The film chronicles the relentless struggle of the Palestinian people in Masafer Yatta, where families fight—against all odds—to remain in their ancestral homes as bulldozers and military forces attempt to erase them. It is a story of resilience, yes, but also of something deeper: the unrelenting injustice that demands resilience in the first place.

And as I watched, something inside me cracked open.

When Survival Feels Like Just Life

For so much of my life, I never thought of my experiences as trauma. It was just my life. The challenges, the losses, the struggles—I accepted them as part of the way things were. I didn’t name them as harm because I didn’t have the language to. It just was.

And then, at some point, I looked back.

I started to see the patterns. The weight I had carried. The ways I had adapted—not necessarily to heal, but just to keep going. And I found myself thinking, Gee whiz, why?! Why was that normal? Why did I assume endurance was the only option? Why did I never question the systems, the narratives, the expectations that made suffering seem inevitable?

And now, as I witness the ongoing trauma inflicted on others—on entire communities, on entire peoples—I see the same pattern. Survival is expected. Suffering is normalized. Trauma is just the way things are.

But it doesn’t have to be.

Trauma-Informed Care Is a Paradigm, Not a Place

Watching No Other Land, I was reminded that trauma-informed care is not just a framework for healthcare—it is a philosophy for humanity.

For years, my work has focused on bringing trauma-informed developmental care to the NICU, advocating for babies, families, and clinicians impacted by early life adversity. But trauma does not begin or end in the NICU. The world itself is trauma-exposed. And those of us committed to trauma-informed care must transcend our silos and advocate across all spaces where harm is normalized.

If we believe in trauma-informed care, we must ask:

• How can we fight for the nervous systems of babies in the NICU while ignoring the nervous systems of children in war zones?

• How can we teach parents about buffering stress while looking away from families forced to flee their homes?

• How can we speak about resilience while remaining silent about the systems that demand resilience in the first place?

To be trauma-informed is to see the whole picture. To acknowledge that the very same structures that create stress and trauma in one place—healthcare, education, criminal justice, and global conflicts—are mirrored in others. It is a paradigm, not a place. And if we believe in it, we must apply it everywhere.

The Practices That Sustain Trauma

This is not just about a single village or a single conflict—it is about the global systems that normalize harm. That make violence mundane. That tell people to endure instead of demanding justice.

In Masafer Yatta, families are expected to rebuild their homes over and over again as if destruction is just another season. Children are expected to grow up with the sound of bulldozers as if fear is just part of childhood. The world watches, shrugs, and moves on, because we have been conditioned to see suffering as inevitable.

This is how trauma becomes embedded—not just in individuals, but in societies.This is how harm is passed down—not just through history, but through policies and power.This is how we learn to accept the unacceptable.

To be trauma-informed is to recognize harm and name it.

To be a healer is to refuse to uphold systems that perpetuate suffering.

To be truly human is to stand in solidarity with those who are treated as if they are not.

Resistance is a Radical Act of Love

Caring Science tells us that love is a moral imperative. It is not passive. It is not silent. To care is to resist.

The people of Masafer Yatta resist every single day by existing, by rebuilding, by refusing to surrender their land, their culture, or their dignity. And their resistance is not just for themselves—it is for all of us who believe in justice, in human rights, in the fundamental truth that no person is disposable.

I am so blessed and grateful for the unfolding wisdom this journey has gifted me. It has taught me that suffering does not have to be cyclical, that harm does not have to be normalized, that we do not have to accept the systems that keep trauma in motion. But this lesson has come at a cost, and I cannot—will not—ignore what I now know to be true.

There Is No Neutral Ground

We do not get to call ourselves trauma-informed while turning a blind eye to state-sanctioned suffering.We do not get to call ourselves healers while excusing oppression as inevitable.We do not get to pretend resilience is the same as justice.

If we believe in dignity, in justice, in the sanctity of life—this is our fight, too. Not because of politics, but because trauma and suffering know no borders.

Watch the film. Bear witness. Speak out. Resist.

Because if we do not, we are choosing the side of erasure. And there is no other land—only the one we choose to stand on.

Refusing to look away,

Mary