A conversation on trauma, power, and the risks of trusting systems meant to heal with DoubleBlind Magazine

DoubleBlind magazine has published a fantastic piece by Christine Redick about my book. Here are a few excerpts. I hope you’ll read the entire article.

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DB: You’ve been outspoken about the failures of psychedelic research to confront power, gender, and vulnerability. What would ethical psychedelic science actually require?

ER: It would require dismantling the patriarchal structures that have shaped psychiatry for more than a century. Psychedelics did not create these dynamics — they inherited them. The field still protects predators, still blames victims, and still refuses to examine its own power. Ethical psychedelic science would require a redistribution of authority. Therapists and researchers would need to be accountable to the people they serve, not the other way around. Psychiatry cannot be allowed to run the show.

DB: As legalization accelerates, what safeguards are non‑negotiable to prevent psychedelics from becoming tools of exploitation?

ER: We need guardrails that are at least as strict as those around alcohol, [like implementing] age limits. Screening for people with “dark‑factor traits” [such as narcissism or psychopathy]. Clear rules about who is allowed to administer these substances. But the deeper issue is cultural. We have selected for a kind of leadership, especially in tech and psychedelic business, that rewards narcissism and exploitation. Without addressing that cultural shift, no safeguard will be enough.

DB: Your description of 5‑MeO‑DMT is one of the most vivid in contemporary psychedelic literature. What did that experience reveal about consciousness that nothing else had?

ER: It revealed something essential about the nature of consciousness that I had refused to see before. It felt like being grabbed by the neck and told, “Here is the truth, and you do not get to look away.” It was complete ego dissolution, but also a profound sense of oneness. It felt like being tuned to a frequency that is always there but usually ignored. And yes, it is difficult to bring that back into an individuated life. Integration is its own challenge.

DB: You write movingly about loneliness: geographic, familial, cultural. What does belonging mean to you now?

ER: I am not sure I can define it anymore. My family of origin is gone to me. My siblings cannot tolerate the truth. So belonging has had to come from elsewhere: neighbors, old friends, small communities of people who show up when it matters. I do not know if I will ever have a cohesive sense of belonging. But I do know what it feels like when someone offers genuine care without sanctimony. For now, that is enough.

DB: Many readers will come to your book feeling broken, abandoned, or unmoored even before psychedelics enter the picture. What would you want them to understand before turning to psychedelics as a path to healing?

ER: Safety is everything. Psychedelics can be valuable, but they can also be catastrophic if you are not held by people you trust, taking substances you know are safe, in doses that are appropriate. It is brave, but also a little foolish to jump in without support. Not everyone is able to emerge with resilience. Psychedelics are not shortcuts. They amplify whatever is already present. And for women, especially trauma survivors, the need for safety is multiplied many times over.