Reader,

This is something that comes up again and again — in supervision, consultation, peer spaces… and honestly, every now and then when my mind starts replaying something from early in my career that I wish I had done differently.

I think about the times I followed the advice of supervisors who were absolutely certain they were right. The cold way we talked about someone becoming “a danger to self or others.”

The automaticity: label → protocol → pathway → documentation.
No one ever told me about warmlines.
Or community support plans.
Or alternatives that didn’t involve cops, coercion, or institutionalization.

And no one told me the truth:
​“Crisis” itself is a colonial classification.

A Western lens built on pathology, risk-aversion, and liability protection — not on community, context, or care.
So let’s start there.

You are not to blame for responding the way you were trained.

You were taught a very narrow definition of “crisis.” You were taught that your license was always at risk, that liability mattered more than liberation.

You were taught that deviations from protocol were unsafe — not just for clients, but for you. And you were taught to fear getting it wrong.

The culprit isn’t you.

The culprit is a mental health system that:

• pathologizes emotions and reactions that are systemically, politically, and culturally reasonable
• collapses all distress into “risk”
• obscures social context
• centers institutions over communities
• rewards defensive practice instead of relational, human practice
• tells us that protocol = protection

The system taught us to be scared.

And scared therapists follow scripts — not people.

So the real question is not: “How do we respond better?”

It’s: “How do we decolonize something that was colonial from the start?”

Because before we can decolonize our response, we must decolonize the definition:

• Is it a “crisis,” or is it a reasonable response to an unjust world?
• Is it pathology, or is it a survival strategy?
• Is the person “unstable,” or are they unsupported, under-resourced, unprotected?
• Are we responding to their feelings, or are we responding to the fear the system puts in us?
• Are we protecting the client, or protecting the institution?

And then we must ask:

Who gets to define crisis?

Because for many of our clients — especially those with marginalized identities — crises are not episodic.

They are inherited.
They are generational.
They are systemic.
They are daily.

Many are reacting intensely to a system that was not designed for them.
A system that actively harms them.
A system that, for some, wants them gone.
And then we ask them to be “calm” and “cooperative.”

So… is there a decolonized way to respond to crisis?

Not fully — not yet — not inside a colonial mental health framework.

But there are more liberatory ways. More human ways, community-rooted, relational ways.

Ways that don’t escalate automatically.
Ways that don’t rely on law enforcement.
Ways that acknowledge culture and trauma.
Ways that honor agency.
Ways that refuse to pathologize self-protection.
And ways that don’t pretend neutrality when what’s happening is political.

We may not be able to fully decolonize crisis response in this system —but we can stop reenacting violence in its name.

And we do that by shifting our internal stance:

• from protocol → to partnership
• from risk-management → to relationality
• from “what will the board say?” → to “what does this human need right now?” (really)
• from fear → to curiosity
• from surveillance → to attunement

This shift matters... It changes the room and the outcome.
It preserves dignity — not just safety.

REFLECTION PROMPTS

1. When I think “crisis,” whose definition am I using?
2. In past crises, was I responding to the client — or to my fear of liability?
3. Whose safety was I prioritizing:
   • the client’s,
   • the community’s,
   • my license,
   • or the institution’s?
4. What culturally rooted or community-based supports did I not consider because my training never taught me they existed?
5. Where do I feel a pang of regret or “I wish I could redo that”? What does that tell me about my values now?

A PRACTICE

Crisis Decolonization Audit — 10 minutes
​Use this the next time you feel activation, urgency, or pressure to “follow protocol.”

Step 1: Drop into your body.
​Notice:

• Where is the fear?
• Where is the urgency?
• Whose voice is this — yours, or the system’s?

Write down one sentence that names it:

Step 2: Expand your options.
​List three non-carceral, non-coercive options available locally, even if imperfect:

• warmlines
• respite centers
• peer support models
• mutual aid networks
• cultural or community elders
• crisis prevention plans
• supporters named by the client

Step 3: Return to relationality.
​Ask the client (if safe and appropriate):

But:

• What hurts?
• What helps?
• What’s possible?

Step 4: Take one step that aligns with care, not fear.
​The goal isn’t perfection or emotional neutrality.
It’s integrity and feeling all the feelings.

In community,

Silvana @ Decolonize Your Practice​

PS. If this conversation is landing in your body — if you feel that mix of responsibility, relief, and the ache of “I wish I had learned this sooner” — this is exactly the work we go deeper into inside The Practice of Liberation. It’s my paid newsletter where we slow down enough to unlearn, name what the system conditioned into us, and practice doing things differently in real time... and where your learning is resourced, held, and supported.
The Practice you found above, is one example of what you can find at the core of The POL.
​Join here and, as a thank-you for supporting this work before the end of the year, you’ll receive 30% off a 1:1 consultation session.
​(Regular rate is $240 — with 30% off, your session is $168 when booked before December 20.)

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