Jordan Peele’s brilliantly conceived film Get Out does its job of shattering the myth that we’re living in a post-racial America. My great uncle, Leo Hurwitz’s film Strange Victory, did the same in 1948 after we won the war against Hitler but came home to racism here. It’s now 72 years later, and there’s still too much to be scared of.

Sometimes love can be scary. And when it is, you have to get tough. Against vulnerability. Against fear of control. Against loss. Against despair. These are the battles in Paul Thomas Anderson’s …

People can be cruel. Even worse is having a voice of shame inside that makes you hang your head low and believe every word they say. That’s Edward in Aaron Schimberg’s A Different Man.

I know, I know. Aunt Gladys is supposed to be a witch in Zach Cregger’s new film, Weapons. But I have to say: What better example of a gaslighting narcissistic abuser could we possibly find?

Owen and Maddy can’t be who they are in Jane Schoenbrun‘s I Saw the TV Glow. Those reasons started in traumatic childhoods but are now inside themselves. For Owen, his dad’s control …

Something bad happened to Agnes in Eva Victor’s, Sorry, Baby. Yes, Sexual assault is bad. And, Agnes has the typical trauma responses: thinking and not thinking about it, confusion, disorientation …

Beau is Afraid in Ari Aster‘s psychologically complex horror film. He has good reasons to be afraid. Beau has a (very) scary mom. He’s frightened of making the “wrong” move or saying the “wrong” thing …

Materialists, written and directed by Celine Song, starring Dakota Johnson, Chris Evans, and Pedro Pascal, tells the story of how love isn’t easy when your childhood was hard …

Sexual abuse is serious. A rift with your mom is too, in Dying for Sex, Episode 8. But “It’s Not That Serious” when you can let in more love and finally embrace what you want. That’s what Molly does …

Even grumpy Nurse Ernie knows (in Dying for Sex Episode 7, You’re Killing Me Ernie): Love heals. So, he (sort of) turns his head and begrudgingly lets Molly invite Neighbor Guy into her room…

Molly makes the best of Stage 4 Metastatic cancer in Dying for Sex Episode 6, Happy Holidays. Of course, the cannabis therapy doesn’t hurt, along with Nikki and Sonya, both high too …

Why is it sometimes preferable to have a pet? Dying for Sex Episode 5, My Pet, offers us a good example (as in Molly’s Barking Man/Pet). Pet doesn’t say you’re wrong, violate you, or …

Dying for Sex Episode 4: Topping is a Sacred Skill reveals one thing you don’t have when you’re sexually abused as a child, and that’s: power. Your abuser has the power. You? You have no control …

Dying for Sex Episode 3 shows us one major reason feelings can become amplified. It’s when reality hits hard after you’ve been avoiding reality for a very long time because it’s too painful …

Molly said, “No More.” She left Steve in Dying for Sex, Episode 1. That’s the first step. But – it doesn’t answer the question: “What does Molly want?” And, that’s one of the hardest questions …

Molly’s scared to feel. In Dying for Sex Episode 1, childhood sexual abuse is the reason. But there’s more than being numb to her feelings. She can’t say no or put herself first. Not quite yet.

How do you hold onto yourself amid threat, abuse, and constant attempts to make you feel “less than”? Elwood Curtis does, in RaMell Ross’s powerful, disturbing, and timely 2024 film, Nickel Boys. Abuse can tear a person down—create hopelessness, despair, and resignation. Repeated abuse, with no way to protect yourself, makes it difficult for many traumatized people to remain determined to do more than merely survive.

Why do so many people who’ve suffered severe trauma live with complicated guilt? Guilt that has nothing to do with anything they’ve actually done? Or, like László Tóth in Brady Corbet’s 2025 The Brutalist—guilt about lesser things that is blown way out of proportion?

Elizabeth Sparkle, an aging yet beautiful actress, hates herself. That’s why The Substance is a sad, gory story of a woman’s self-hate. Self-loathing always stems from early trauma. And both childhood trauma and self-hate are devastating. You never feel good enough, are vulnerable to feelings of rejection, and do everything you can to prove you’re desired and loved.