The Body Remembers:

Dance/Movement Therapy
with an Adult Survivor of Torture

Amber Elizabeth Lynn Gray

Torture ruptures boundaries. It is one of the most intense forms of

human rights abuse, occurring in the context of relationship, and
with the intention to inflict pain on the body. Relationship to one’s
self, and to others, is often dramatically affected. Integral aspects of
the healing process for survivors of torture are to restore relative
safety in the body and to rebuild relationship capacity. In this paper,
individual dance/movement therapy is introduced as a modality for
healing the wounds of torture. The impact of torture on the body,
the self, and relationships, and how this can affect treatment using
individual dance/movement therapy, is addressed. Dance/movement
therapy with an adult survivor is illustrated in a case study. The
author concludes that dance/movement therapy, following the experi-
ence of torture, can be beneficial in rebuilding an individual’s sense
of wholeness and self, and in improving interaction skills and rela-
tionship capacity.

KEY WORDS: dance/movement therapy; torture; trauma; somatic psycho-

therapy.

Introduction

T orture ruptures boundaries and fragments an individual’s relation-

ship to self. It disrupts the wholeness of the person. It is one of the
American Journal of Dance Therapy  2001 American Dance
Vol. 23, No. 1, Spring/Summer 2001 29 Therapy Association
30 Amber Elizabeth Lynn Gray

most intense forms of human rights abuse, because it is intentional and

takes place in the context of a relationship between the victim and the
perpetrator. A human being profoundly violating another in this way is
beyond imagination. For victims of torture, it is often beyond words. This
paper is an exploration of the healing potential of dance movement ther-
apy (DMT) for survivors of torture.
Torture is defined by the World Medical Association as “the deliberate,
systematic or wanton infliction of physical or mental suffering by one or
more persons alone or on the orders of any authority, to force another
person to yield information, to make a confession, or for any other rea-
son” (in Prip, 1995, p. 11). Torture continues to be used as a means of
political manipulation in many parts of the world, by many governments
and governing bodies. According to Prip, “torture still takes place in 79
countries of 183, some of which are signatories of the U.N. Convention
Against Torture” (p. 11). The individual and collective destruction
wrought by torture is as old as humanity, but the issue of torture was
brought to greater public awareness in the 20th century after the horrors
of the World War II concentration camps were revealed. Studies and
interviews with Holocaust survivors demonstrate that the extent of hu-
man suffering was beyond human comprehension and remained inex-
pressible to many victims (Laub, 1992). Currently, “it must be remem-
bered that most torture in the world today is employed not to extract
information, but to intimidate and demoralize others or to incapacitate
potential leaders of resistance” (Pfefferbaum & Allen, 1998, p. 145). The
intimidation and demoralization that result from torture obviously share
some commonality with other forms of abuse such as domestic violence,
sexual abuse and ritualistic abuse, yet torture, as addressed in this pa-
per, refers to abuse to victims for political reasons perpetrated by indi-
viduals unknown to them.

Torture Sequelae
Torture creates physical and psychological sequelae that affect survivors
to the extent that their personalities become deconstructed (Callaghan,
1993; Genefke, 1992; Doerr-Zegers, Hartmann, Lina, & Weinstein,
1992). The ever-growing literature on torture emphasizes that the survi-
vor’s body is both the site of wounding and healing. Torture is always a
heinous assault to the body. Practices of torture include: electric shock
to body parts, and frequently to the genitalia; severe beatings and whip-
pings; bondage; isolation; light and sensory deprivation; mock execu-
tions; sexual abuse and rape; and starvation, among other things (Gene-
feke, 1992). In the training manual of the International Rehabilitation
 The Body Remembers 31

Council for Victims of Torture (IRCT), the authors divide symptoms into
somatic, psychological, and psychosomatic categories that are thought
to be lasting effects of extreme trauma (Vesti, Finn, & Kastrup, 1992).
According to the IRCT, many of the somatic symptoms that torture sur-
vivors experience appear to be related to the psychological distress they
endure. While musculoskeletal injury is not uncommon, the IRCT re-
ports relatively few medical findings compared to somatic complaints in
their large population of clients. The IRCT manual addresses the impor-
tance of providing interventions that target both body and mind, stating
that psychosomatic symptoms are perhaps the most crucial to address.
Zeeburg (1998) discusses the identification and diagnosis of torture
survivors, and proposes that while Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
(PTSD) is a common and accurate diagnosis for survivors of torture, it
may not be comprehensive enough. Serious medical and psychiatric disa-
bilities can result from torture, and rehabilitation can be a complex en-
deavor, as physical and psychological symptoms are interlaced. Common
symptoms include shame and guilt, self-destructive behavior, psychoso-
matic symptoms, somatic disorders, somatic pain disorders, heightened
startle reflex, and nightmares. Zeeburg describes the importance of non-
verbal therapy for torture survivors. He cites a clinical model of treat-
ment used in Hungary, where a nonverbal therapist, using art, move-
ment, and creative writing, is part of every client’s rehabilitation team.
Zeeburg writes, “The idea is to move the deeper parts of the soul of se-
verely tortured persons” (p. 37).
Allodi (1999) discusses the complexity of torture sequelae from a psy-
choanalytic perspective and describes the body as physical and meta-
physical, anatomy and experience. “In torture the body becomes the key
to the soul” (p. 101). Therefore, both the intention and effect of torture
“are based on the properties of the natural body, mostly its tendency to
unity with the experienced body and thereafter with the spirit or con-
sciousness” (p. 102). Going on to describe the effects of torture on con-
sciousness, Allodi states, “we begin to find the limits of words and the
failure of all metaphors and other tropes of the language” (p. 102).
From a different perspective, Callaghan (1993) describes the impor-
tance of the body-mind continuum in both the wounding and healing of
torture survivors. She characterizes torture as an experience that cannot
easily be separated into physical or psychological categories. Describing
the mental anguish of prolonged solitary confinement, Callaghan asks,
“Is there a clearly defined boundary between physical and mental tor-
ture? Given that torture exists on a body-mind continuum, if the contin-
uum runs from body to mind it must also run from mind to body” (p. 4).
Torture violently disrupts the sequential organization of experience
that occurs naturally within the human organism (Minton, 1997). If sen-
sation is too unbearable, the physical experience can be shut down and
32 Amber Elizabeth Lynn Gray

disconnected from perceptual, emotional and/or mental experience. This

can create dissociation, and is thus one of the ways torture fragments
the human system, and disrupts the relationship to the self. Torture in-
tends to destroy the integrity, creativity and vitality of the human being.
If directed against the core self, the impact of torture on the individual
is regressive (Von Wallenburg, 2000) and results in the disorganization
and demolition of an individual’s personality (Callaghan, 1993; Chester,
1994; Von Wallenburg, 2000).

The Relational Wounds of Torture

Torture takes place in a relationship between torturer and victim. This
relationship can contain elements of both sadistic and non-sadistic abuse
(Salter, 1995). The sadistic perpetrator studies the victim’s responses,
moods, gestures, and movements for information that can be used to in-
flict greater suffering. Unlike random, accidental, or non-human acts of
violence, torture is carefully planned and executed in order to ensure
that the victim feels pain. Perpetrators may be perceived as people with-
out feelings. However, perpetrators may be so attuned to the feelings
and sensations of the victim that they can be considered highly em-
pathic. This is what makes torture effective. Torturers spend time study-
ing their victims and “seeing” them well enough to learn what will rup-
ture their boundaries, or literally “get under their skin.”
Human beings have boundaries, but this does not imply that we are
bound, closed creatures. Rather, the “boundaries are open and indeter-
minate; more like membranes than barriers, they define a surface of
metamorphosis and exchange” (Abram, 1996, p. 46). Healthy human
boundaries maintain a balance between coming together and moving
away. They are fluid and flexible. Ruptured boundaries are a universal
symptom of trauma (Pool-Heller & Levine, 1998) and the relationship
aspect of torture intensifies this rupture. Survivors may describe feeling
skinless or raw. Any sensation reminiscent of the torture can produce
flooding, defined broadly as too much sensation or feeling too quickly.
The body becomes overwhelmed, potentially re-traumatizing the client.
Hypersensitivity, hyperarousal and dissociation can be indicators that
flooding is occurring. Isolation (rigidity) and fusion (merging) are the
extremes of boundary rupture. Isolation and fusion can indicate that a
person is experiencing difficulties moving in and out of relationship (Lev-
ine, 1995).
In cases where the torture is less sadistic or contains elements of non-
sadistic abuse, the perpetrator separates himself or herself from the vic-
tim, ignoring the victim’s feelings and projecting a false and disturbed
 The Body Remembers 33

self-image onto the victim (Salter, 1995). In non-sadistic abuse, the per-
petrator denies the victim’s pain, because perpetrators must deny their
own pain. This denies the victim’s true experience. The victim often dis-
sociates from the experience, appearing “invisible.” This invisibility ap-
pears as withdrawal and isolation. In therapy, the victim may appear
“absent” to the therapist. Survivors of this type of torture have reported
in sessions that they feel like they live in an empty shell. Sometimes,
survivors will dissociate specific areas of the body from the whole body,
because the pain in these areas is unbearable. The author has heard
many survivors refer to the arm, or say it feels ugly. Such statements
are made to describe an arm that is no longer part of the victim’s body
image.
Regardless of whether the torture is sadistic or non-sadistic, the victim
is systematically and purposefully stripped of dignity and respect, and
finds living in the body-home a painful challenge. The body, used by
the torturer, becomes the physical and psychological site of destruction
(Callaghan, 1993). A survivor’s ability to relate to others is severely al-
tered by the experience of torture. Intimacy, companionship, and com-
munity can feel threatening. The relational nature of torture-induced
trauma creates a need for therapeutic safety and therapeutic relation-
ship in the healing process.

DMT and Treatment of Torture Survivors

The trauma of torture has a profound impact on both bodily and psycho-
logical organization. Torture survivors are left with the somato-psychic
imprint of trauma on a continuum from physical sensation to emotional
and transpersonal experience. The symptoms of torture survivors live in
the body because the act of torture takes place to the body. The memories
are in the body. Post-traumatic symptoms such as intrusive memories,
nightmares, exaggerated startle response, dissociation, and hyper-
arousal are usual in torture survivors (APA, 1994).
Symptoms seen in the body and in movement may include difficulties
in the successful performance of early developmental movements,
broadly defined as the sequencing of basic neurological actions (Apos-
hyan, 1997; Cohen, 1993). This reflects the disruption of the basic orga-
nization of the individual. High levels of body tension may also be ob-
served, which can reflect a disturbance in social adaptation and a lack
of personal well-being (North, 1975). High levels of anxiety and blocks to
perceptual processes are also associated with increased muscular tension
(Levy, 1988). This muscular tension also affects physical alignment, our
ability to support ourselves to stand on the earth (Bernstein, 1979), as
34 Amber Elizabeth Lynn Gray

well as posture, an essential component of expressive movement, and

“. . . the core out of which motor behavior flows” (Chaiklin, 1975, p. 705).
Constricted breathing, a blockage to feeling (Reich in Chaiklin), aware-
ness, and sensation, is also evident in torture survivors.
Major movement disturbances affecting body image, kinesphere, and
movement repertoire also may be observed in torture survivors. Body
image is the mental representation of one’s physical reality, as well as
being an essential aspect of “Our relationships to the world around
us . . .” (Chaiklin, 1975, p. 704). Body image in torture survivors can be
severely damaged. Restriction in the use of the kinesphere also may be
present in torture survivors. Kinesphere is the space around the body
(Bartenieff, 1980) that serves as an individual’s bridge to the world.
There also may be restrictions in the range of the movement repertoire
as a result of the torture experience. Movement repertoire provides an
indication of one’s expressive capacity (Levy, 1988), which reflects one’s
emotional range. The bodily and movement effects of torture described
above are among those evaluated and worked with in the DMT session
to promote the reintegration of the self, and to heal damage to the capac-
ity for relationship.
DMT is particularly well-suited as a psychotherapy for survivors of
torture. As is evident from the severe bodily symptoms described, the
focus of DMT on the body and movement and its relationship to psycho-
logical processes is highly relevant to recovery from the experience of
torture. The holistic and integrative nature of DMT (Lewis, 1986) sup-
ports recovery from the disintegration of self. Developmental aspects of
DMT (Schmais, 1977) can be used to address sometimes profound im-
pairments to basic body and personality organization, and relational de-
velopmental damage that reflect the “regressive, preverbal nature of tor-
ture” (Callaghan, 1993). The emphasis on relationship in DMT (Schmais,
1977) is essential in working with torture survivors. Relational goals of
DMT include: rebuilding trust, resocialization, and repairing object rela-
tions. The crosscultural origins of DMT in the rituals and healing prac-
tices of other cultures (Bartenieff, 1972/1973) has relevance for the treat-
ment of torture survivors internationally. In the next section, a case
study will be presented to illustrate individual DMT with a torture sur-
vivor.
While DMT has excellent tools for clinical work to support torture re-
covery, there are modifications that must be made in working with tor-
ture survivors. The first, and, perhaps, the most important component
of the healing process, is in the therapeutic relationship. The need to
pace this aspect of the treatment cannot be overestimated.
In the practice of kinesthetic empathy, meeting and understanding the
client in movement (Chaiklin, Lohn, & Sandel, 1993), the therapist be-
comes a mirror; witnessing, and reflecting the nonverbal expression of
 The Body Remembers 35

the client. These concepts are particularly useful in the treatment of tor-
ture survivors. However, they are challenged by the relational and often
sadistic nature of the torture. Therefore, the therapist must be especially
careful to attune and empathize with a client in a nonthreatening fash-
ion, while keeping in mind that the use of empathy was the abuser’s tool
for knowing best how to inflict pain and suffering (Salter, 1995).
Salter (1995) suggests that intense anxiety and decompensation are
possible as the victim becomes better understood in the therapy, as “be-
ing seen” can trigger feelings the victim had in the presence of the perpe-
trator. It is the work of the dance movement therapist to see what the
body reveals, and what the client may want to hide, and to gently and
respectfully nurture the awareness in the client that his or her body is
home, a relatively safe place to which to return. Relative safety refers to
the idea that we are as safe as we can be in a world where danger,
including torture, can happen to anyone (St. Just, 1999; Forrest, 1996).
Therapists must also keep in mind that the work with the body is
likely to stimulate memories more quickly than if words alone are used
(Callaghan, 1993). Given the body’s direct involvement in torture, care
should be taken, so that the client is not overwhelmed.
To facilitate the healing process, DMT can be modified through the
use of resources and titration. Resources are defined as anything that
helps a person maintain a sense of self and inner integrity in the face of
disruption (St. Just, 1999; Heller & Levine, 1998). Resources can include:
positive imagery; memories; past or present social contacts; interests;
and personal and work experiences that enhance the torture survivor’s
sense of integrity and strength. Titration requires that the stimulus or
energetic charge be broken into smaller pieces, so that the pace of the
work is more manageable and the traumatic experience can be inte-
grated (Heller & Levine, 1998). The use of props such as therapy balls,
stretch bands, and scarves facilitate titration and pacing.
Also, titration is relevant in the expansion of the use of breath in the
therapy of torture victims. It is important to remember that traumatized
people often hold their breath, breathe shallowly, breathe rapidly, or
sometimes, appear not to breathe at all, as a protection to experiencing
increased bodily sensation and emotion. Therefore, the introduction and
the expansion of the use of breath must be carefully managed, so as not
to introduce uncomfortable or overwhelming sensation too quickly.

Case Study

Rita is a 38 year-old woman from an African country, where she was

imprisoned, raped and tortured intensively over a period of one month
36 Amber Elizabeth Lynn Gray

due to her brother’s political beliefs. Her brother was shot and killed in
front of her. His brutal murder was also witnessed by both his and her
children. She was then dragged down the street in front of the children,
thrown into a truck, and taken to what she described as a “barracks.”
She remained there for one month, until a co-worker in a crafts coopera-
tive negotiated her temporary release, helping her to flee the country.
She was repeatedly raped, beaten, kicked with heavy boots, and dragged
across rocks while in prison. She had no access to food, water, or sanita-
tion, and was left to lie on a cold rock floor without clothes or coverings.
When she arrived in the United States, she reunited with her husband
who had also fled political violence. She came to see me a year later.
Rita’s therapy took place almost weekly over a period of six months,
for a total of nineteen sessions. At her initial intake session, she de-
scribed herself as extremely depressed. There were indications of a col-
lapsed posture in the initial assessment. This was evident in her down-
ward gaze, and her body tension. She held her pelvis, upper torso, and
shoulders forward. There was a lack of support in her pelvis that re-
sulted in an inability to push through her spine, one of the earliest devel-
opmental movements. Rita moved tightly and awkwardly and did not
extend herself into the space. Her kinesphere was small and fragmented.
She looked unsure of her own mobility, and made minimal eye contact.
She reported an exaggerated startle response, nightmares, insomnia,
and constant fear. She experienced unbearable pain in her left shoulder,
arm and neck, and could not work for more than a few hours a day due
to this. Her breath was barely visible. Describing herself as “formerly a
strong woman,” she also described moments of intense fear when she
was home alone. She was afraid someone would beat the door down and
“come to get her.” She described feeling helpless, and in our initial ses-
sions, she had difficulty making decisions. She shared that her husband
felt like he hardly knew her. She had left their two children behind with
her aging, frail mother, and she was concerned for their well-being. In
this initial intake session, Rita communicated this information with flat
affect and frequent dissociation.
I was assigned to Rita initially as a therapist, but our first sessions
consisted of a combination of case management and DMT. Rita was so
focused on her childrens’ well-being that it was necessary for us to work
on this problem before we could begin to work with her experience. After
discussing possibilities for contact with her children, and beginning the
long process to secure her political asylum so she could bring them to
the United States, we began our work.
In her first therapy session, which followed a mental health evaluation
for her asylum case and took place two weeks after her intake, Rita dis-
cussed her children with more emotion. Weeping occasionally, Rita spoke
 The Body Remembers 37

of the pain she felt at leaving her children. I asked her to describe her
pain, and she responded with “a pain outside my body.” As she said this,
she made frequent gestures to her heart with her left hand. When I
pointed out that she was gesturing towards her heart, she seemed
stunned. She simply said “there is a pain in there.” I asked her to specify
in more detail where she felt the pain, and she replied, “It’s like the pain
I feel in the left arm and shoulder.” She described this area of her body
as disconnected and broken. Recalling that in her intake she had often
pointed to this same area when describing her beatings, I suspected a
connection between her physical abuse and her “broken heart” for having
left her children.
I invited Rita to locate her pain even more specifically, hoping to facili-
tate her awareness of sensation. She pointed to the same area. I asked
her to take a moment with this pain and describe the quality of it, or
explore any movement, images, or information that might be there. She
said “A rock.” I asked for clarification, and she said “Pressure. There’s
pressure there, and I feel like I want more, like someone pushing into
it.” This felt like a crossroads to me; the rock could represent an internal-
ized image of her torture, and it could also be a resource. I remembered
that warm rocks are often applied to the body in many traditional heal-
ing practices.
To titrate our work and avoid re-traumatizing her, I left the image of
the rock momentarily, and asked if there was a specific movement sug-
gested by her preference for pressure. She attempted to roll her shoul-
ders backwards, which opened her chest and created a more erect pos-
ture. It also echoed a traditional African dance movement. She was
unable to complete this movement sequence. She described a point where
it “got stuck.” This seemed to be a frozen movement impulse, perhaps
related to her sensation of pressure and perception of a rock. At this
point, her breathing became more labored and she reported increased
pain. I suggested she imagine the movement instead, and she closed her
eyes and seemed to attend inside. She placed her finger on her heart
area and pushed. The push required effort from her shoulders, and she
stated that it hurt her arms to do this, although the pressure felt good.
Suspecting she might be accessing a healing resource, I offered to place
my hand there and apply light pressure. I maintained pressure while
she explored arm movements. Two things happened. The pain moved
farther down her arm, “as if it wants to leave,” and she rolled her shoul-
ders backward, completing the movement sequence of the formerly fro-
zen impulse and bringing herself to a more erect and supported posture.
She was able to move sequentially and fully through her torso. A slight
smile emerged as she said “I can breathe better.”
The following week, she canceled her session, due to a relapse of the
38 Amber Elizabeth Lynn Gray

asthma she developed following her torture. She recognized that the
work we had done had “opened something up,” and expressed a desire to
rest. We agreed she should remain at home.
When she returned to therapy two weeks later for her second session,
her posture was slightly more erect. Her spinal push was better sup-
ported by a more integrated and energetically active pelvic floor. Her
head was held higher, which enabled her to make more eye contact. She
shared a dream she had about a village healer from her childhood, a
medicine man who pressed hot leaves and earth into villagers’ flesh to
ease illness and pain. It was possible the rock image had become a re-
source, a healing image from past memory. Some psychological theories
posit that dreams are reflections of both our unconscious minds and the
collective unconscious. In many African cultures, dreams are believed to
be the voice of God (Hickson & Kreiger, 1996). This dream, a potential
connection to the transpersonal, created a possibility to rebuild the in-
tegrity of her body through the resource of healing memories. We worked
with this image in our next three sessions.
I asked Rita to scan her body, with awareness on her chest and arm.
She said “the pain is almost gone, but it’s deeper in my heart. My arm
feels very heavy.” These statements reflected increased bodily integra-
tion through a more physical and emotional integration. I suggested she
imagine the healer working with her arm. As she did this, she reported
sensations of increasing lightness in her arm, noting that the longer she
imagined a hot leaf compress against her skin, the lighter she felt. She
also reported feeling more awareness of her skin. The image of an angel
emerged, so I suggested she allow her arms to be angel wings. We cre-
ated “angel exercises” which were her “homework” assignments for the
next several weeks. Using stretch bands, and the image of feathery
arms, she began by lying on the ground to feel the earth’s support, as
she did when treated by the village healer. After three weeks of practice
in her weekly sessions and at home, she performed the exercises while
standing. By this point, Rita felt only a very diffuse pain in the middle
and upper positions of her arm, and reported she was able to work for
longer periods of time with less pain and exhaustion. She reported a
decrease in nightmares and startle response, and said keeping the image
of the angel with her helped her to feel safer. Her affect range and move-
ment repertoire were increasing simultaneously. As the available range
of motion in her arms increased, she was expressing more laughter and
tears.
In sessions occurring throughout the third and fourth months of ther-
apy, Rita began to demonstrate even greater range of movement, a more
erect posture, and increased eye contact. In one session in particular (her
ninth), I introduced a therapy ball to facilitate grounding her pelvic floor
energy in a non-threatening way. Sitting on the ball, she expressed a
 The Body Remembers 39

deeper relaxation in her upper body than she had experienced since her
torture. Along with the release in her chest, she began to talk about the
emotions in her heart. She described her heart as broken, and attributed
this to two traumas. The first was the rape and beatings she suffered
from “the young boys who hurt her.” The second trauma was leaving
her children. This statement reflected a more physical, emotional and
cognitive integration. She described her wounded heart as full of “poison-
ous pus,” and that she wanted to be rid of it. As she shared this image
with me, she also shared that she had recently spoken with her children
for the first time since leaving them. In previous phone calls, she had
been unable to speak because of her intense grief. Expressing a desire to
“push the pus away,” she named it “shame,” and through visualization
and movement, we created a movement sequence to “push” it out of her
heart. At the end of this session, she expressed gratitude for her exer-
cises, saying, “they allow me to touch the pain in my heart.” Rita was
integrating her bodily experience, emotions and beliefs, verbally and
nonverbally, about her choice to flee home without her children. Her
body and mind were becoming more congruent and integrated, as she
began to work sequentially through her traumatic experience, which had
become somaticized.
For the next two months, we continued to work through the body with
emergent gestures and images. Rita broke down and wept deeply in sev-
eral sessions that occurred in the fifth month, and began to show more
agitated movement and affect. She once moved so quickly through an
“angry arm swing” that she lost her breath and almost fell over. At
times, her enthusiasm to heal led to hyperarousal and flooding. When
this occurred, we began a practice of slowing every movement that
emerged to half-time, then quarter-time; what we soon called “dream-
time.” This titration enabled her to access her past resources and inner
body experience with increased awareness of their meaning in her pres-
ent life, and to integrate the experience of torture into her present body-
mind by reclaiming the experience sequentially. We worked in this way
throughout the sixth and final month of her therapy.
In her second to last session, Rita entered the room exuberantly,
throwing her arms above her head and proclaiming, “I came here to tell
you I’m not going to die anymore. I’m going to live!” Her gait and posture
were more normal; she was sleeping better, and her eyes were brighter
as she made direct and steady eye contact with me. Our therapeutic
relationship had strengthened in the safety of the therapeutic container
that was created in our sessions. Her freer movements and extended
range of motion communicated a state of relative safety and comfort in
her body. She expressed how much she liked coming to the center, an
indication of a holding environment that felt safe. She recalled several
traditional village dances she had been practicing and asked if I would
40 Amber Elizabeth Lynn Gray

dance with her. This was our first truly interactive activity. Rita had
assumed a role of greater equanimity in the relationship, and, for the
first time, we moved together. I followed and mirrored her movements,
finally able to reflect my experience of her directly back to herself. In
this session, she thanked me for helping her to “find her body again.”
She also reported that she and her husband had decided to have another
child, and that she was pregnant. She felt good about the possibility of
creating new life in her body. She came to see me only one more time,
two weeks later. As her pregnancy progressed, she experienced some
complications, and was forced to spend more time at home. We agreed
to discontinue therapy until the baby was born and she was more com-
fortable to travel. We agreed she had made enough progress to continue
her work at home.

Discussion

The progress Rita made was relatively quick, and this is probably indica-
tive of the fact that she had resources to utilize. She had the support of
her husband, but the loss of her children was devastating. That we en-
gaged in a dual relationship initially (therapist and case manager) is
noteworthy. This dual relationship can be a challenging one, but it can
support the healing process as much as therapeutic work itself. The frag-
mented nature of torture requires that the healing process be integrated.
Referral to a separate caseworker might have fostered continued frag-
mentation.
Rita’s initial presentation was fragmented and dissociated. Her refer-
ence to the pain outside of her body, the arm and the heart, reflected
disintegration in her relationship to physical, emotional, and cognitive
aspects of herself. She had separated individual body parts from the
whole, and did not connect her physical experience of torture to her emo-
tional pain. To descrease her emotional pain, she separated body from
mind. She experienced difficulty relating to others, as evidenced by her
husband’s statement that he didn’t know her, her isolated behavior, and
her inability to make eye contact. Her initial posture lacked support, and
may have expressed subservience in our relationship.
Through various DMT interventions, Rita began the process of reinteg-
rating physically, emotionally, cognitively, and spiritually, and infusing
her past experience with present meaning. When we first began to work
with her pain, I chose a fairly standard DMT intervention specification
of sensation to one area of the body. Another common intervention is the
generalization of sensation to a larger area of the body, or to the entire
 The Body Remembers 41

body (Caldwell, 1996). I chose specification so that Rita could begin to

re-establish the sequential organization of her experience that was vio-
lently disrupted by torture. In her case, I feared that generalization
would produce flooding, and later sessions indicated that this may have
been true. As she began to recover her bodily experience and integrate
it, she was more prone to hyperarousal and flooding. This required the
frequent use of titration in her movement therapy sessions. Her asthma
may have been a symptom of being overwhelmed, indicating a need to
gather more resources before integrating the experience of torture.
I have questioned my use of touch to facilitate the sensation of pres-
sure. The helplessness Rita described in the first session exaggerated
the power differential, and in being directive and active in the session, I
may have risked being perceived as the perpetrator. It is also important
to point out that just as trauma occurs in a cultural context, so, too,
does healing. While touch must be used judiciously and with tremendous
sensitivity in psychotherapy, my clinical experience in other countries
shows touch to be a culturally appropriate intervention. In Rita’s case,
it seems that touch facilitated a connection to the resources in her body.
The use of touch also allowed Rita to make complete movement se-
quences from movement fragments. Only through carefully-paced explo-
ration of sensation, could she give her movement impulses expression,
complete the movement sequence, and restore the sequential integrity of
her experience. By relating these movements to the healing images of
village healer and angel (her resources), she was able to begin to connect
these physical experiences to her grief, express her anger, and eventually
make peace with being forced to leave her children. Ultimately, we were
able to literally dance her familiar dances together in the safety of our
therapeutic relationship. Her pregnancy was evidence that she had re-
stored relative safety and returned home to her body.

Conclusions and Recommendations

It has been said that it is through dance that the history of a people is
enacted (Hickson & Krieger, 1996). If this is true, it can also be said that
the history of an individual is enacted through the body. DMT honors
the powerful relationship that the human body has to life experience.
Because it is the body that is directly targeted and violated in torture,
healing and rehabilitation of torture must include the body. Working
with, and through the experience of the body and its expressive voice of
movement, survivors of torture are welcomed home.
The complex relationship that is present in the act of torture creates
a need for a modality as powerful as DMT to be carefully paced, or ti-
42 Amber Elizabeth Lynn Gray

trated. It is often necessary to build survivors’ resources before they can

begin to move through their experience. The torture survivor described
in this paper benefited from her work with DMT. Rita delivered a
healthy baby boy seven months after her last session, and is currently
working. In a recent conversation, she expressed gratitude at the ability
to experience the joy of family and community once again.
There are several recommendations that arise from this case material.
The first is the importance of integrated treatment for survivors of tor-
ture who have already suffered tremendous fragmentation. This requires
flexibility in our roles as therapists, and may require that one person fill
several roles to integrate the healing process. It may also require inten-
sive teamwork. A second is the recognition that a goal of this work will
almost always be the reconstruction of relationship. For many survivors,
the therapeutic relationship is the one that initiates the healing process,
but the work must continue with members of the survivor’s family, com-
munity or environment. It is often advisable for survivors to enter group
therapy to begin this larger relational healing.
Finally, the survivor’s relationship with his or her own body suffers
following torture, because this base of existence has been so severely
violated it can feel as if it is destroyed. All rehabilitative work with survi-
vors of torture must be approached with this in mind. Recognition that
the body is an earthly and sacred site for individual and collective hu-
man experience facilitates the reintegration and reclamation of body,
mind, heart, and spirit.

Acknowledgments
The author would like to acknowledge the following people for their edi-
torial assistance, patience, and support: Carlos Gonsalves of the Insti-
tute for the Study of Psychopolitical Trauma; and Robyn Flaum Cruz,
Anne C. Fisher, Sarah J. Kaye, Ryan Kennedy, and Joan Lewin of the
American Dance Therapy Association. She would also like to thank the
entire staff of the Rocky Mountain Survivors Center (RMSC), who are
present in all the work of the Center, and the clients of RMSC, who
are the real teachers of this work. Finally, the author would like to thank
Rita for her willingness to explore her healing so creatively and so coura-
geously.

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