‘Trauma has no borders’: Idowu Adeyemo on healing children, reforming systems, bridging continents

From Lagos correctional centers to Appalachian school districts, trauma-informed mental health advocate Idowu Adeyemo has dedicated her career to building bridges—between continents, communities, and care systems. In this exclusive interview, Adeyemo, a mental health researcher and social work leader, opens up about her journey, her mission, and the global future of trauma recovery.

Thank you for joining us, Ms. Adeyemo. Could you begin by sharing your professional journey and how your experiences across Nigeria and the U.S. have shaped your identity as a trauma-informed mental health leader?

Thank you for having me. My journey into the field of mental health and social work has been shaped by a commitment to understanding the systemic gaps in care. I began my professional path in Nigeria, earning my Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in Sociology at the University of Lagos. During this time, my research was on intimate partner violence and work-life balance among young married women. This exposed me to the nuances of the intersections between gender, mental health, and social structures.

While in Nigeria, I worked with the Bosco Child Protection Center and the Correctional Center for Senior Girls in Lagos to provide trauma-informed care. I witnessed firsthand the long-term psychological effects of abuse and systemic inequity among children.

This partly motivated me to pursue my Master of Social Work at Ohio University. In the U.S., I’ve worked at Hopewell Health Center providing mental health services to children and adolescents, and I also lead a research project examining burnout and job satisfaction among therapists. Together, my academic research and clinical practice across two continents have shaped me into a data-driven trauma-informed mental health leader. I believe in bridging systemic gaps with compassion.

What catalyzed your dedication to child and adolescent mental health, especially among underserved and conflict-affected populations?

My dedication was ignited by my early work with children displaced by conflict and poverty. At the Bosco Child Protection Center, I met children who had survived experiences no one their age should have to endure. What struck me was how often their pain went unnoticed by the world around them.

Later, during my volunteer work with internally displaced persons (IDPs), I saw how limited access to mental health services left trauma untreated—rippling across families and communities. I decided I wanted to be part of the solution. That means both offering direct care and crafting policies that ensure children have access to safe, supportive environments.

You’ve written extensively on trauma-informed care. Why is this approach not just timely, but essential today?

Trauma-informed care acknowledges the pervasive and often hidden impact of trauma on individuals’ well-being. It focuses on how trauma influences people’s behavior, emotions, and relationships.

This approach is timely because of the increasing global recognition of trauma’s widespread consequences—whether from conflict, domestic violence, or systemic oppression. Trauma-informed care gives professionals a framework for responding with empathy.

In your research on therapist burnout, how does practitioner well-being influence the care trauma-affected youth receive?

Therapist burnout directly affects care quality and accessibility. When professionals are emotionally exhausted, they struggle to build the kind of trusting, compassionate relationships that are vital for healing trauma—especially in children.

Burnout can result in disengagement or even re-traumatization. It also fuels high turnover rates in an already understaffed field. That’s why protecting the well-being of practitioners is not just important—it’s essential for delivering sustainable, quality trauma care.

Having worked in Nigeria and the U.S., how do both systems respond to childhood trauma? What can they learn from each other?

In Nigeria, there’s still stigma and limited infrastructure for childhood mental health care. Trauma is often misunderstood, and formal services are scarce. But there’s a strength in Nigeria’s cultural and familial networks, which offer powerful informal support.

In contrast, the U.S. has more formal systems and broader awareness of trauma-informed approaches, but also suffers from disparities in access, especially for marginalized communities. Nigeria can learn from the U.S. in terms of building formal systems, while the U.S. can draw from Nigeria’s community-based, relational care models.

Which trauma interventions have you found most effective in your work with children?

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) and Trauma-Focused CBT (TF-CBT) are especially effective. They help children reframe negative thoughts and process trauma in safe, structured ways.

Play Therapy is also useful, particularly for younger children who may not be able to articulate their feelings. The most success comes when these interventions are embedded in a comprehensive, trauma-informed framework.

How have your leadership roles shaped your vision for equitable mental health systems?

Serving on the MSW Committee and the College of Health Sciences Student Advisory Council has shown me where the gaps are in mental health education and service delivery. These roles taught me that equity starts with training future professionals to understand diverse needs and ends with designing culturally competent policies that reflect the voices of the communities they serve.

What does a trauma-informed model look like in real-world settings like schools or correctional facilities?

It looks like safety, trust, and empowerment. In schools, it’s about restorative practices, emotional literacy, and support systems rather than punishment. In clinics, it means clear communication, patient choice, and safe therapeutic environments. In correctional settings, it’s about shifting from punishment to rehabilitation—supporting both inmates and staff through trust-building and therapy. Embedding trauma-informed care everywhere requires training, funding, and leadership.

What can governments, schools, and families do to build inclusive and resilient mental health ecosystems?

Governments must lead with policy, funding, and infrastructure. Schools need to normalize mental health education and have professionals on staff. Families must be empowered to talk openly about mental health. Community-driven, culturally relevant programs are the glue that binds these elements together.

What are the biggest barriers to mental health access for children—and how have you tried to dismantle them?

Socioeconomic barriers and stigma are the biggest challenges. In Appalachia, for example, families without transportation can’t get to therapy—even if it’s free. I’ve been developing a proposal for grants to fund transport services.

Stigma is another huge barrier. I use every opportunity—like this interview—to normalize mental health conversations and challenge that stigma.

How do professionals build trust with trauma-affected children and caregivers, especially in under-resourced communities?

Trust is built through listening, presence, and transparency. I explain therapy clearly and honestly. I also use a family-centered approach—supporting caregivers with the tools they need to help their children at home. When caregivers feel confident, engagement and trust follow.

Can you share a moment that deepened your understanding of childhood resilience?

One boy I worked with in Lagos had a history of abuse and was withdrawn at first. But with consistent support, he began to express his feelings and engage. It was a reminder that even small, steady efforts can transform a child’s future.

You’ve led fieldwork and published research globally. What’s next in your contribution to trauma recovery and reform?

I want to build frameworks that bridge trauma care at both the individual and systems level. I’m focused on translating research into real-world impact—especially in underserved communities. Long-term, I aim to influence international policy and develop cross-cultural models of trauma-informed care.

If Nigeria were to adopt a nationwide trauma-informed strategy, what must it include? And what could the U.S. learn from Nigeria?

Nigeria must start with trauma education, frontline worker training, and community-based mental health infrastructure. Trauma-informed systems should be built into health, education, and justice sectors.

The U.S. could learn from Nigeria’s communal healing practices—like storytelling, extended family support, and faith-based networks. A hybrid of both cultures could create powerful global trauma care models.

Finally, how do you see your work advancing global mental health equity—and what legacy do you hope to leave?

I hope to elevate marginalized voices and make mental health care more inclusive and culturally responsive. I want to leave a legacy of bridging divides—between research and practice, between countries, and between policy and people. I want future trauma researchers to be bold, compassionate, and committed to lifting others as they rise.