August 11, 2025: The Dehumanization and Infantilization of Patients in the Psych Ward
by Harmony Witte
“Dehumanization: to deprive (someone or something) of human qualities, personality, or dignity: such as
a
: to subject (someone, such as a prisoner) to inhuman or degrading conditions or treatment
b
: to address or portray (someone) in a way that obscures or demeans that person’s humanity or individuality
c
: to remove or reduce human involvement or interaction in (something, such as a process or place)”
“Infantilization:
1
: to make or keep infantile
2
: to treat as if infantile”
When you find yourself inpatient in a psych ward, you are fully dependent on the staff for every need and want whether you went there willingly or not. Unfortunately, this can make an environment that is ripe for the dehumanization and infantilization of the patient. Most staffers are kindhearted people who are just trying to make it through a shift and mean well, but as is the case in many situations, just one bad (or even inconsiderate) apple can ruin the barrel.
In the depression and anxiety unit at McLean SouthEast, where I am currently enjoying a “grippy sock adventure” (I refuse to call it a vacation) the patients rely on the staff for big things such as giving them medication, providing food regularly, doing their laundry, checking their vitals, doing daily check-ins, running group therapy, and ensuring their safety by mediating issues with other patients. We also have to rely on them for very small things such as charging our laptops. Some of us need to be observed while showering or shaving and we have to be observed while trimming our fingernails or while using markers or paintbrushes. We have to ask the staff in order to access the snack cabinet where our personal goodies are stored. We have to ask the staff to access a locked cabinet if we want a plastic spoon to stir our coffee or eat cereal, or if we want a sheet of paper. Staff does safety checks every 5-15 minutes which involves opening the bedroom door and peeking in or knocking on the bathroom door if someone is inside—if you don’t answer with your name quickly enough, they use a key to open the door. There is zero privacy in the hospital.
The list of “small things” that we have to ask staff for grows every day and it can be incredibly difficult for people with a history of abuse or neglect to get comfortable enough advocating for their needs. Being put in a position where patients have to rely on the whims of staffers who have all the power to say “no” with or without reason is incredibly difficult for me. I’ve never seen a staffer say “no” for no apparent reason, but I have seen a few of them snap at patients who made requests that they found inconvenient or annoying.
I find myself trying to white knuckle through migraine pain, dehydration, or the need to urinate at night because I’m not always comfortable leaving my room and asking for assistance– depending on who is working at the time. I’ve been chastised for being a “naughty” or “difficult” 40-year-old too many times since arriving here 2 and a half weeks ago–a shocking turn of events for someone who wakes up determined to “win hospital” and receive a gold star every day. Once, a staffer approached the table where I was sitting with a friend and fussed at us for the pen sitting there that neither of us had noticed or touched—we are only supposed to use the “patient pens” which are essentially flexy pen cartridges. My roommate and I were chastised for talking to each other too loudly and giggling at 2am. Once, after a dramatic hour-long lock down where someone ended up forcibly restrained and medicated I asked a staffer to boil some water in the staff room so some other patients and I could have a cup of tea. She ended up having to add cold water to our cups because she was told it was a safety hazard to give us access to hot water.
The rules are constantly changing and arbitrary, they are often not communicated ahead of time. The staff quotes “policy” as a way to convince adult humans that they shouldn’t eat their dinner in the quieter common room despite the fact that the dining area is a space of sensory overload being loud, bright, and cold–never mind the fact that it often doesn’t have enough chairs for all the patients. Over and over, new patients think they have found a blessedly quitter eating option–only to be quoted “policy” and shooed back to the painfully overstimulating dining area.
One such inane rule is the requirement that any film watched on the television in the common room must be rated PG13 and under and “not include violence, sex, or politics.” I’ve yet to argue my point with staff, but isn’t all art inherently political? We have been allowed to watch movies with arguable sex and violence: Groundhog’s Day, The Lego Movie, Some Like it Hot, and Who Framed Roger Rabbit and what feels like the entire pantheon of Adam Sandler movies. What films get approved or not depends entirely on who is in charge at the moment.
Many patients are particularly vulnerable for reasons that may not be obvious to the uninitiated. Most are experiencing new medications or med changes that may leave them with a whole host of uncomfortable or embarrassing side effects. Some may be experiencing hallucinations or other forms of psychosis. I’ve been seeing random cats walking around the ward all night, others see demons and may not have the foresight to understand they are not real visions. Most of us have experienced a string of life events that have resulted in this being one of the most difficult times in our lives. Many are too ashamed to let anyone in their lives know they are hospitalized. Not reaching out to loved ones is a double-edged sword because while it can avoid potential shame and humiliation, it leaves patients with no outside support. It leaves no one to bring needed supplies from home or to offer comfort, no one to help advocate for the patient.
At one point I mentioned to my psychiatrist that I was struggling with infantilization and feeling powerless in the hospital. He tried to help me feel empowered by pointing out that I chose to come to the hospital, I get to choose which meds I take, and which activities I participate in. It was a bit humorous in its approach, but I appreciated his effort. Ever since, I have noticed that he makes a point of including at least one “empowering” statement every session.
Back to the “bad apples.” There are several staff who refuse to acknowledge our humanity whatsoever. It can be mild, such as the guy who refuses to respond to greetings or acknowledge that any of the patients have spoken to him in any way, to a little more frustrating—the guy who can take vitals or unlock conference rooms for guests without once verbally responding to patients. I’ve heard him have entire conversations with other staff members and visitors—he’s capable of speech! But any time I try to ask for him to charge my laptop or say “good morning” he gives a Chesire Cat-like smile and doesn’t respond in any way. It makes me feel absolutely crazy and worthless. I start questioning myself, did I even speak out loud?
Then there are the dangerous staffers—the doctors who gaslight. There is an internist on staff who “examined” me after a blow to the head who patronizingly said “I know you are very in touch with your body and your issues and you worry a lot, try not to worry. 5 days later I am having extreme memory loss that is concerning other patients and friends as well as exhibiting all of the classic post-concussion symptoms. Oh, but I couldn’t possibly recognize a concussion after having 4 previous ones. This guy did everything short of pat me on the head and send me on my way. The gaslighting has seriously affected my mental health. Even tiny things can seem huge in the hospital, but his casual callousness eats at my soul and makes me question every single thought I have.
In some ways it feels trite to complain about the way I have been treated at what is arguably a very cushy psych ward when people are sleeping on floors in raw sewage in ICE facilities across the US and millions of Palestinians are being held in an open-air concentration camp. But it’s important to acknowledge that those situations don’t always start off as the obvious human rights violations they turn out to be. They often start with incremental creeping into the lives of the disabled, the mentally ill, the queer, the vulnerable “others” in the population before expanding into violating the humanity of larger and larger groups. It’s important to recognize potential dehumanization early on in order to put a stop to it so that it doesn’t result in eugenics or full-blown genocide.