Hey! I’m Maria.

I’m a trauma-informed storytelling trainer.

My work centers on creating safer spaces to tell world-changing yet painful stories.

Let's back up just a smidge.

As a career storyteller, my path began with studying (print!) journalism.

I then journeyed to a small Ghanaian village as a health educator with the U.S. Peace Corps. I approached teaching health through what I did best—telling stories.

And It worked.

Back in the United States, I found my home in nonprofit communications, building and leading digital marketing programs for major public health organizations in New York City.

Each role deepened my understanding of storytelling's impact on social change.

Then my first daughter blew into my life like a tornado. After a few months of feeling like I was running on a hamster wheel, I left my 9-5 nonprofit job.

That's when I started When Bearing Witness®

My consultancy was built out of a desire to balance career and motherhood. We moved to Tallahassee, Florida, where my family and business grew.

For the first five years, my consultancy had been a hub for teaching, consulting, and guiding organizations in marketing and storytelling strategy.

The turning point came during a nonprofit storytelling class I was teaching. A student's question about trauma-informed storytelling revealed a critical gap in our field.

How do we gather and share stories of pain and resilience without causing additional harm?

This question led me on a profound path of learning.

I immersed myself in trauma-informed practices, pursuing certifications in Trauma & Resilience, Trauma-Informed Space Holding, Trauma-Informed Coaching, and Somatic Embodiment & Regulation.

What emerged was a deep commitment to making trauma-informed storytelling accessible to all nonprofit communicators, especially those without formal social work training.

Today, I facilitate the When Bearing Witness® Trauma-Informed Storytelling Certification Program, host the When Bearing Witness® Podcast, and speak on all things trauma-informed storytelling.

All of these initiatives support nonprofits in gathering and sharing sensitive stories in ways that promote safety and resist harm.

We are all capable of walking the trauma-informed storytelling path. I'm building a movement to make trauma-informed storytelling the new standard.

Throughout my journey—from journalism student to Peace Corps volunteer, from nonprofit marketing manager to trauma-informed storytelling advocate—one truth is woven through my entire career:

Stories are sacred.

And storytellers make the world a healthier, safer, cleaner, and happier place.

My Values & Philosophy

I believe storytelling is never neutral. The stories we choose to tell, the language and media we use, and the harm we ignore or repair all shape whose humanity is protected and whose is put at risk.

My work is rooted in kindness, empathy, and grace. It is also rooted in social justice, accountability, and a commitment to dismantling harm, especially harm upheld by white supremacy and urgency culture.

Being trauma-informed is not just a methodology. It’s a stance. And yes, it is political.

Kindness

Nonprofit leaders, fundraisers, and storytellers are often overburdened, under-resourced, and holding far more emotional weight than their job descriptions acknowledge.

Kindness, in my work, does not mean avoiding hard conversations or lowering standards. It means rejecting shame as a teaching tool.

I’m not here to tell you everything you’re doing wrong. I am here to walk alongside you as you build systems, language, and practices that reduce harm and increase dignity. I will celebrate your care, your growth, and your willingness to pause and do things differently, even when it’s uncomfortable.

Kindness creates the conditions for lasting change.

Empathy

This work lives at the intersection of trauma, power, identity, and systems.

I approach storytelling with deep empathy for the realities people are navigating, including story owners, audiences, and the storytellers (you) themselves. I trust that people are often doing the best they can inside systems that reward urgency, extraction, and oversimplification.

Empathy, for me, means holding space for complexity and multiple truths. It means understanding that fear, resistance, burnout, and missteps are often trauma responses, not moral failures.

At the same time, empathy does not mean neutrality. I can understand how harm happens while still naming it and working to repair it.

Grace

Trauma-informed storytelling is not a destination. It is an ongoing practice of unlearning, relearning, and repairing.

Wherever you are on your journey, I meet you there with grace. I believe people can grow without being shamed into silence or perfection. I create spaces where it is safe to say, “I didn’t know this then,” and brave to say, “I want to do better now.”

Grace also means acknowledging that harm will happen, even with the best intentions. What matters is how we respond. Do we listen, repair, and change? Or do we defend, minimize, and move on?

I choose the former, again and again.

Social Justice and Accountability

Trauma does not exist in a vacuum. It is shaped by systems, histories, and power.

My work is explicitly grounded in a commitment to social justice, including anti-racism and the dismantling of white supremacy in nonprofit storytelling and beyond. I believe many traditional storytelling practices have upheld harmful narratives, saviorism, and extraction, especially from Black, Indigenous, immigrant, disabled, and marginalized communities.

I name myself as a messy ally. I do not claim perfection or arrival. I am committed to learning in public, being accountable when I get it wrong, and anchoring my work in practices that redistribute power, center consent, and honor agency.

Trauma-informed storytelling is not just about being careful with stories. It’s about changing the systems that decide whose pain is profitable, whose healing is rushed, and whose voices are believed.

This work asks us to slow down, tell fewer stories, and tell them with more care. And it asks us to choose safety and dignity, even when it costs us ease or speed.

That is the work I am committed to.