Building Bridges: Conversations Around Brain Injury and Community Support

By Christy Coenen Coordinator, Membership & Events

Over the past several months, I’ve had the opportunity to collaborate with a dedicated group of professionals to help educate and support our community around brain injuries. This work has opened doors to meaningful partnerships with a wide range of organizations—from homeless shelters to AODA (alcohol and other drug abuse) programs—and has highlighted the power of cross-sector collaboration.

Together, we’ve been able to step into various agencies and offer practical training on how to recognize the signs of a brain injury, how to assess those signs, and most importantly, how to guide individuals to the right services. These conversations are not always easy, but they are essential. They create a shared language among service providers and a clearer path forward for those who need support.

Equally impactful has been the time spent with individuals affected by brain injury. Through support groups, we’ve created space for people to share how they came to understand their injury, the ways they manage daily challenges, and how they lift each other up through mutual support and education. These stories are raw and powerful. They remind us that healing doesn’t happen in isolation—it happens in community.

When It Clicked: Volunteer Passion Meets ATSA’s Purpose

A few months into this work, I had a moment where it all clicked. I began to see just how closely my passion project—working with individuals affected by brain injury—was aligned with the mission we uphold at ATSA.

As I listened to individuals describe their experiences—how they learned about their injury, how it changed their relationships and behaviors, and how it affected their sense of control—it hit me: this isn’t separate from our work at ATSA. In fact, it’s central to it.

ATSA Member's talk about rehabilitation, risk reduction, accountability, and ethical care. What if part of what we call resistance or poor insight is actually rooted in undiagnosed cognitive injury? What if a person’s failure to follow through isn’t willful, but neurological?

This perspective shift matters. Recognizing and addressing brain injuries can be a gateway to more effective intervention, stronger rapport, and better outcomes. It’s not just about screening—it’s about humanizing.

What the Research Reveals

Recent studies make it clear that brain injuries are not a marginal issue in our field—they are common, often overlooked, and deeply relevant:

• Nearly 50% of a sample of 476 adult males who caused sexual harm assessed at a psychiatric hospital had experienced head injuries resulting in loss of consciousness. About 22.5% had significant neurological impact.
  (Langevin, 2006)
• A meta-analysis found that 60% of justice-involved individuals reported a history of traumatic brain injury (TBI), with 53%–75% in male populations specifically. About 52% had experienced TBI with loss of consciousness.
  (Kirk-Provencher, 2020)
• Among young individuals who committed violent offences, 77.5% reported at least one TBI, often linked to aggression and substance use. Many recognized their injury as a turning point toward risky behavior.
  (Katzin, 2020)
• A clinical review found that 6.5% of men with a history of TBI went on to commit sexual offenses post-injury—even without prior history or alcohol involvement—suggesting a neurological role in some offenses.
  (Simpson, 1999)

These numbers are hard to ignore. In comparison, estimates of TBI in the general population range from 12–20%. That means people involved in the justice system—and particularly those convicted of sexual offenses—are several times more likely to have experienced a brain injury.

This Reinforces ATSA’s Values

The more we understand the role of brain injury in behavioral health, the more responsible and effective we become in our work. This includes:

• Recognition before reaction: Behaviors that seem resistant, erratic, or impulsive may stem from brain injury—not defiance or disregard. With screening and education, we can respond appropriately.
• Training across disciplines: Whether you’re in probation, treatment, reentry, or case management, knowing how to spot signs of a brain injury opens up new ways to support individuals—ways that are more just, humane, and effective.
• Community-based support: The support groups I’ve been part of show how powerful it is when people share their stories, learn together, and begin to understand themselves. This mirrors ATSA’s vision of trauma-informed, person-centered care.
• Bringing more voices to the table: We’re stronger when we collaborate. When probation officers, social workers, clinicians, family members, and clients are in dialogue together, we create richer, more supportive systems.

A Call to Action

If you work with individuals—particularly justice-involved clients—ask yourself:

• Have we talked about cognitive or neurological history?
• Have we screened for traumatic brain injury?
• Do we understand how symptoms like memory loss, executive dysfunction, or emotional volatility might be showing up?

If not, now is the time to start. You don’t have to be a specialist to make a difference. There are practical tools, trainings, and partners in your community who can help.

And don’t have these conversations alone. Bring others in—colleagues, treatment team members, community partners. Because the more voices we bring into these conversations, the more effective and compassionate our work becomes.

Brain injuries don’t define a person—but they can shape their journey. And if we don’t talk about them, we miss a crucial part of the picture.

By recognizing brain injuries, we’re not excusing harm—we’re doing what ATSA has always stood for: looking deeper, asking better questions, and creating conditions for accountability, safety, and support.

Let’s keep building those bridges—together.

 

Beyond the Verdict: Why ATSA's Commitment to Prevention and Accountability Matters

by Amber Schroeder, ATSA Executive Director

A few weeks ago, while I was on vacation, I found myself sitting at a car dealership waiting for an oil change, when the Diddy verdict hit the news. I was outraged—not just by the verdict itself but also because of the glaring, persistent societal misperceptions about sexual harm that led to not guilty verdicts on the more serious charges. Again, a moment that should have highlighted the experience of survivors was reduced to a media spectacle.

Like I’m sure many of you did as well, I felt a deep frustration. As I sat there, I texted with one of ATSA’s Board members from that waiting room, and we found ourselves asking the same question: where is the public understanding of what sexual harm actually is? Where is the conversation about prevention, about power, about the possibility of change? As I drove away, one thought kept rising to the surface:

My very favorite thing about ATSA members is that they fundamentally believe in change.

ATSA members hold a core belief that those who cause sexual harm can take responsibility for their actions. They can grow, be accountable, and help create a safer future. We believe that punishment alone doesn't cut it—healing, accountability, and prevention all need to work together. This belief is what makes our field stand out.

 
And now, it’s time for ATSA to live that belief as an organization.

For too long, ATSA has been a strong voice within the professional community—but a quiet one in the public square. When stories like the Diddy case break, we know the public is paying attention. But too often, our expertise, our members' real-world experience, and our research-based understanding of sexual harm go unheard. Not because we don’t have something to say—but because we haven’t had the structure or strategy to say it boldly, clearly, and in real time.

That’s why our 2024–2027 Strategic Plan matters so much.

This plan isn’t just a roadmap for internal improvement—it’s a call to step forward. It lays out our commitment to:

• Strengthen and grow our professional community;
• Expand and modernize educational opportunities;
• Deepen our support for research and evidence-informed practice;
• Influence public policy with clarity, courage, and credibility;
• And critically, reshape how society understands those who cause sexual harm.

As part of this transformation, we’re shifting from a grassroots, volunteer-led model to a professionalized association with the infrastructure to lead. That kind of change comes with growing pains. We’ve had missteps—communications that didn’t land, transitions that felt unclear. But just as we support our clients through moments of uncertainty, we are holding ourselves to that same process.
We are learning. We are listening. And we are committed to transparency.

This is a crucial moment—conversations about sexual harm are happening, but they're missing the nuance that’s so badly needed. It demands that we speak up. That we advocate for an approach rooted in evidence and compassion. That we model the very thing we believe in: the power of meaningful, lasting change.

To our members: thank you. Your unwavering dedication to this work inspires the direction we’re taking. And as ATSA invests in the broader societal conversation, we do so with the fundamental belief that sexual violence can be prevented because of your work.

We are not just responding to change. We are becoming the change.

Framing Prevention Through an Anti-Memetic Lens

by Aniss Benelmouffok

In Antimemetics: Why Some Ideas Resist Spreading, Nadia Asparouhova explores why cultural ideas fail to spread. Much of the resistance to spreading, “immunity” as Asparouhova puts it, is due to the uncomfortable nature of antimemetic subjects.  Reading the book, I couldn't help but see efforts to prevent sexual abuse through an antimemetic lens.

To frame these ideas, she draws on two concepts:

     •    Memes and Memeplexes: Coined by Richard Dawkins in 1976, “memes” are self-replicating cultural units that spread and evolve like genes. Memeplexes—like religions and political ideologies—are networks of related memes.
     •    Mimetic Desire: Introduced by René Girard, this concept suggests we desire what others desire, emulating “models” in our social spheres. This can lead to rivalry and scapegoating.

Asparouhova proposes that if we take these two concepts as "canon," we can see how the internet has poured fuel on them. "Rather than ushering in an era of global peace, the internet made us leap at each other's throats," she says. 

 

What Are Anti-Memes?

Anti-memes are cultural ideas that resist spreading—often because they disrupt social harmony. Asparouhova writes, “Networks have a strong built-in immunity to anti-memes,” noting that these ideas tend to be suppressed because of their disruptive power.

Prevention—especially when it comes to sexual violence—is inherently antimemetic. Like disaster preparedness or gun violence prevention, it rarely garners sustained public or political support unless a recent tragedy has captured public attention. ATSA's Roadmap to Talking About Perpetration Prevention offers a structured approach to breaking through this “immunity” and reshaping how we talk about sexual harm.

Asparouhova herself points to how prevention is deprioritized in public discourse and policy. Consider how media attention surges and fades after mass shootings—or how funding for disaster preparedness lags until catastrophe strikes. Prevention doesn’t spread easily because it requires uncomfortable conversations and long-term thinking—both of which challenge the fast-paced, reactive nature of contemporary communications.

The same is true for conversations about treating individuals who have caused sexual harm. These conversations demand we acknowledge the harm sexual abuse has caused, to consider the harm that may occur, and requires frameworks grounded in science that address its prevalence in our communities.

ATSA's Roadmap to Talking About Perpetration Prevention

ATSA's Roadmap to Talking About Perpetration Prevention is a guide for turning anti-memetic ideas into meaningful conversations. It encourages professionals to lead with values—to explain why they work with people who have sexually harmed others or are at risk to. It provides structure for conversations that highlight our shared goal: ending sexual violence.

Although designed for ATSA members, this roadmap is for anyone ready to talk about prevention with nuance and purpose. It:
     •    Emphasizes collaboration with individuals affected by trauma
     •    Draws on decades of clinical research and evidence-based practice
     •    Makes prevention the focal point of our work—not an afterthought

Why We Need Champions

So how do anti-memes break through? Asparouhova’s answer: Champions. These are people who know how to navigate complex systems and bring difficult ideas into broader conversations. Champions help anti-memes find traction beyond their niche communities.

She writes:
“But to the right champion, even the most labyrinthine system feels like an invitation to create something extraordinary... You will know it when looking at the problem makes your heart expand with possibilities, rather than shrink away.”

If you’re reading this, you might be that champion. Because prevention faces many challenges —we need people willing to carry the message.

A Final Note

The ideas in the roadmap aren’t always easy to share. They’re disruptive. They challenge deeply held beliefs. They’re anti-memes. But they also carry the potential to transform lives and communities.
 
This year, we've been highlighting Changemakers within the ATSA community. Members who have embraced the challenge of sharing the message of sexual abuse treatment and prevention to transform their communities.  I hope you'll join them in sharing these ideas with conviction, even when they're difficult to express. ATSA has your back with evidence-based resources and professional media support when needed—that's how change begins.

What I Talk About When I Talk About ATSA

by Aniss Benelmouffok

It usually happens after the server takes our drink orders. A new acquaintance sitting across from me will politely ask where I work. 

“What do you do?” 

For friends who have previously gone down this path, this is well-tread territory. I can sense their shoulders droop, their eyes re-scanning the dessert menu. We’re going to talk about sexual abuse—and depending on the willingness of my new acquaintance it might be the only thing we talk about all night. 

"I work for an international non-profit preventing sexual abuse."

"Oh wow," they whisper, "Thank you, that is such important work. Good for you."  Do I bask in their praise and smile contentedly or do I delve deeper? 

It is important work—carried out by thousands of ATSA members whom I’ve had the privilege to work with and represent. But their gratitude is for the willingness to face trauma. They instinctively recognize it as an act done on behalf of society.

So when I accept their thanks, I make it clear it's on behalf of ATSA’s members—those who turn toward the hard truths every day in the service of preventing and treating sexual harm.

"I work for a membership organization of treatment providers, researchers, and professionals within the criminal justice system who treat and manage individuals at risk of causing sexual harm." 

At this point, the table is typically silent. My friend will have to tell us about his kayaking trip off the coast of Seattle next time. The questions and conversation will pour out. And the thing is, this conversation energizes me every time.  We discuss who is at risk of causing sexual harm, the effectiveness of treatment, that a significant proportion of sexual harm is perpetrated by youth, how sexual harm often occurs within the context of a household, and the ways fear and retribution make our policies less effective to prevent harm before it occurs. Everyone is affected by sexual harm, directly or indirectly, this is never more clear than during these conversations. These topics are foundational to ATSA members, but can be revelatory at the dinner table.

As ATSA's Director of Public Affairs, and the Editor of the ATSA blog, I am eager to bring that energy for these conversations to the blog. I hope to promote our members voices in alignment with ATSA’s mission, our strategic plan, and the evolving policy agenda. I invite all members to reach out to me to collaborate on future submissions that support this direction. If you have a post in mind, feel free to send a brief outline or summary or if you want to bounce ideas around - well that's one of my favorite things to do- lets do it!  
 
I’d like to acknowledge and thank the previous bloggers—Kieran McCartan, David Prescott, Kasia Uzieblo, and Robin J. Wilson—and the regular and guest bloggers who built this platform. I look forward to building on their foundation and continuing the conversations the blog has fostered for over a decade. 

In true ATSA fashion, we have the numbers to prove it: over 1.26 million views, more than 300,000 words, and 575 posts shared to date.

Let's add a few more views to that count. I look forward to sharing the stories of ATSA members and the vital work they do.