In truth, there wasn’t one moment I knew I needed to write my book.
There were many.
One of the most profound unfolded a handful of years ago in Hong Kong, where I had started the city’s first therapy group for male refugees and asylum seekers.
Shared Trauma
The men came from as far afield as Rwanda, Yemen, Egypt, and Somalia and represented a variety of cultural, religious, and socioeconomic backgrounds.
Many had never even heard of Hong Kong when they fled their homes. But they would have flown anywhere to feel safe and belong. For them, staying put simply wasn’t an option.
One man, a political dissident, had been forced – at gunpoint – to watch his grandmother being raped; another had his house set on fire because of the religion he followed.
A third was a former boy soldier, desperate to escape his past; a fourth saw his 12-year-old daughter mutilated and forced into marriage.
Confronting My Assumptions
The night before our first meeting, I went for a hike and thought to myself, ‘How am I, a privileged woman, going to support these men? Will they even want to talk about their feelings?’
It soon became clear they didn’t. Nor were they moved by deep breathing, mindfulness exercises, or any of the other hackneyed techniques therapists usually rely on. It was time for me to rethink the couch.
Finding What Worked
So I asked them instead what would be helpful. They said learning a skill, regaining their confidence, ad being able to speak English better.
One man suggested we read a book together, so we started ‘A Long Way Gone’ by Ishmael Beah, about a child soldier in Sierra Leone.
We went around the room, each man reading a passage. Then we would pause and discuss all the ways in which the men did – and did not – connect with Ishmael’s story.
We read together, we talked together, and we cried together as the book became a springboard for the men to tell their own stories.
Power of Being Witnessed
By the time we were finished, we had tapped into reservoirs of hope, something none of us had thought possible.
These men wanted their stories witnessed, not their experiences pathologized. They wanted to be seen, feel connected, and have their pain and their hopes acknowledged.
They wanted to find a path to somewhere they could belong.
The Lasting Impact
I still think about these men.
They inspired my book, Rethink the Couch: Into the Bedrooms and Boardrooms of Asia with an Expat Therapist, published by Penguin Random House SEA.
And they taught me far more than I ever did them.
Conclusion
This experience fundamentally changed how I approach therapy – moving from a one-size-fits-all model to one that prioritizes what clients identify as helpful.
Sometimes the most powerful therapeutic tool isn’t a technique from a textbook, but the simple act of being present with someone’s story and creating space for their voice to be heard.
In doing so, we don’t just heal trauma – we restore dignity and hope.