Screams by the Delaware: Moms Find Catharsis Together

A New Way to Cope: The Rise of Community Screaming

The first week of school brought with it a mix of excitement and anxiety, especially with the looming threat of SEPTA cuts. For Rachel Robbins, a mother of two, the chaos and uncertainty of this time were overwhelming. She felt like she was on the verge of a breakdown. Nearly a month later, at Pier 53 along the Delaware River, she finally let out her frustration.

Alongside eight other women, Robbins screamed — not just for herself, but for anyone who needed to vent and connect. This was the first group scream organized by Robbins, an initiative aimed at creating a sense of community among parents and others who might be struggling.

The event included a 12-week-old baby, a toddler in a stroller, and even a 4-year-old poodle named Ollie. Participants wrote down their worries on memo pads and then made their way to the river. At around 10 a.m., they all screamed together. The sounds were varied — some long, sustained bellows, others short and sharp, high-pitched cries, and even feral howls. Some people ripped up their notes, while one participant, Ceara Guest, said she planned to burn hers.

The reasons for their screams were many. They included the challenges of motherhood, the pressures of single- and co-parenting, and the difficulties of raising teenagers. Others were upset about climate change, the darker aspects of the internet, federal job cuts, and attacks on immigrants.

Meghan Adamoli, who works in gun violence prevention and recently lost her bid to become a Collingswood commissioner, shared her feelings. “Millions of people are suffering around the world,” she said. “Our leaders are just making everything worse. It’s just a heavy time.”

The Power of Shared Emotions

For those who participated, the experience was both cathartic and empowering. Johanna Goetzel, who was recently laid off from the Environmental Protection Agency, thought about the undermining of climate science and the challenges of raising two boys in a patriarchal society. After the scream, she felt accomplished. “It’s cathartic, and I think to do it in the company of others — I think it’s totally empowering,” she said.

Adamoli, however, felt a bit dizzy after the event. Another participant, Rollins, said it left her buzzing. “This feels like a deep, cleansing breath, times a thousand,” Adamoli, 44, said.

The concept of therapeutic screaming is not new. It has been around since the 1970s, coined by a Californian psychologist. It is a natural response to pent-up frustration, such as screaming into a pillow or singing along to Carrie Underwood’s “Before He Cheats” in the car.

The History of Screaming as a Coping Mechanism

Rage rooms, where people pay to smash dinnerware, break TVs, or destroy cars, became popular during the 2008 financial crisis. During the pandemic, “primal screaming” reentered the public consciousness, notably through The New York Times’ “scream after the beep” hotline. Communal screams have also taken place in cities like New York City, Chicago, and Austin, Texas.

Robbins believes that the more people who can release some stress, the better. “It’s all it is,” she said.

A second group scream is scheduled for October 12. This event is part of a growing movement to help parents and others find relief through shared experiences and emotional expression. Whether it’s a scream, a cry, or a moment of silence, these acts of release can be powerful tools for healing and connection.