With a gut-wrenching wail that rippled from her body, Amber Walcker joined about a dozen screaming people in West Seattle who let their frustrations float away over the Puget Sound.
It was just the start. The two group screams that followed, each one longer and more intense, released the pain from Walcker’s recent job loss. Her added stress from raising two young children dissolved as it blended with the sound of lapping water, and a deep sense of calm
descended upon her.
“I had such a sense of feeling grounded. In that same moment, all your senses are heightened,” Walcker said. “From then on out, I was hooked.”
That day in September was the first meeting of Seattle's chapter of Scream Club, one of 17 chapters that have popped up in less than a year around the United States, including in Austin, Texas; Chattanooga, Tennessee; Atlanta; Detroit; and San Juan, Puerto Rico.
The first chapter, in Chicago, began as a result of a couple’s rough patch.
Co-founders Manny Hernandez and Elena Soboleva had recently moved in together after dating long-distance for a year and a half. They were walking along Lake Michigan when Hernandez, a breathwork practitioner and men’s coach, suggested they let out all their frustrations with a scream at the end of a pier.
When they asked permission of the few people around, everyone decided to scream together, their raw emotion echoing over the water.
“After we did it, some people were crying, including Elena,” Hernandez said. “That’s when we looked at each other and said, ‘This is probably something that we should start.’”
Depending on the chapter, Scream Club meetings can be weekly or monthly, but they always take place in a park or near a body of water to minimize disturbance. Sessions typically begin with participants writing down the thing they want to release on biodegradable paper.
That’s followed by a series of collective deep breaths and vocal warm-ups, such as humming while breathing in and out.
“You can really strain your throat if you just do it,” said Soboleva, a personal brand and business mentor. “So it’s gradual, breathing from your diaphragm and carefully starting off slow and warming up to louder and louder.”
Everyone screams together three times, taking several deep breaths in between, and throws their paper into the water.
“That third scream, you have to feel it in your body,” said Walcker, who started the club’s Seattle chapter. “Get down, be in a primal stance, whatever it feels like to you in that moment.”
The Scream Club's techniques are descendant of primal scream therapy, a theory that Los Angeles psychoanalyst Arthur Janov devised in the 1960s. Janov believed childhood trauma created neuroses in adults, which could be treated by tapping into the pain and releasing it with screaming and crying under a therapist’s supervision.
Research in the decades since, however, has not found scream therapy to be an effective treatment for mental health conditions, said Ashwini Nadkarni, a psychiatry professor at Harvard Medical School.
Still, it’s a fantastic stress reliever.
Nadkarni said the scream itself engages circuits in the amygdala and the hippocampus — “the oldest part of our brain" that is responsible for processing stress and emotion. Screaming also activates the sympathetic nervous system, or fight-or-flight stress response. Once the screaming stops, the parasympathetic system kicks in, which signals the body to rest.
“It’s the same cycle of regulation that happens when you exercise,” she said. “Your heart’s racing, you get short of breath, and then you relax and you feel that calm.”
Besides the physical release, the simple act of getting together to do something with others provides benefits.
“The idea of people getting together to enhance community in ways that help them blow off some steam is incredible,” she said.
Hernandez said it’s not standard practice to publicly share the reasons for coming, but many people linger afterward and talk about their problems. Some at the Chicago chapter recently lost a loved one, one person was battling cancer for a second time and many were struggling with relationships.
Walcker noted that some people even come to scream for joy. Whatever the reason, the Seattle chapter usually meets just before sunset to watch the sun dip below the water afterward.
“It’s kind of like putting everything to rest,” she said. “And that everyone knows that that’s the end of that, and we can all start fresh.”
___
Albert Stumm writes about wellness, travel and food. Find his work at https://www.albertstumm.com.
