Who’s Afraid of Alice Miller? (And Why They Fear Sylvie Shene Too)

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Here’s your polished and sharpened blog post, with tightened phrasing, heightened impact, and clearer thematic flow—while preserving your fiery truth-telling voice:

Who’s Afraid of Alice Miller? (And Why They Fear Sylvie Shene Too)

I watched Who is Afraid of Alice Miller?—a film that, like so much of the "mental health" industry, dances around the real issue: the repressed emotions of the wounded child. The answer to the title’s question? The same people who fear me.

Why? Because we carry lanterns. And light exposes frauds.

Those who haven’t resolved their own childhood repression hide behind pretty theories, intellectual jargon, and professional credentials. They’re not authentic. They’ve grown into full-blown narcissists, sociopaths, and emotional predators—malignant adults clinging to the very lies Alice Miller spent her life dismantling.

I have compassion for the abused children they once were. But I have none for the monsters they’ve become.

Martin Miller: A Case Study in Unhealed Repetition

The film’s introduction features Martin Miller accusing his mother of telling him he’d become like his father. She was right. That’s exactly what happens when we refuse to face our internalized abusers. Unresolved repression turns us into carbon copies of those who hurt us. This is why history repeats—why cycles of abuse persist.

The journalists fawn over Martin’s psychotherapy degrees, as if credentials magically confer wisdom. But a license means nothing. Courage means everything. Few have the guts to excavate their own pain—least of all those profiting from others’ suffering.

A reviewer of Martin’s book nailed it:

"The fact that he used Alice Miller’s techniques to write his own book proves her methods work. His trauma is real—but trashing his mother posthumously is cowardice. He knows he lacks 1% of her brilliance."

Alice couldn’t "fix" her adult son. Her insights came after his childhood. By then, the responsibility was his. Yet instead of doing his own work, he chose to exploit her legacy. A perfect case of unhealed repetition.

Psychoanalysis: Poisonous Pedagogy in Disguise

Alice Miller saw through psychoanalysis early. It wasn’t liberation—it was another form of poisonous pedagogy, repackaging control as "therapy." She resigned from all psychoanalytic associations, recognizing the field’s fatal flaw: Most therapists are still prisoners of their own repression.

As I wrote in A Dance to Freedom:

"Therapists and gurus swap one illusion for another. Alice Miller realized practitioners couldn’t truly help patients until they faced their own buried pain. That’s why therapy often fails—it’s built on the same fear and denial it claims to treat."

For decades, clients and analysts wander mazes of half-baked concepts, never reaching the core: the unexpressed rage, grief, and terror of the child they abandoned.

Martin Miller: The Double-Edged Sword

Ironically, Martin was likely the catalyst for Alice’s work. Without his existence, would she have written those books? Would we have this roadmap to liberation?

He’s a paradox: the unhealed wound that birthed healing. A living testament to her theory—and its most glaring cautionary tale.

The Takeaway

The world fears Alice Miller—and truth-tellers like us—because we refuse to confuse knowledge with wisdom, credentials with courage. Real healing starts when we stop running from the child within.

The rest is noise.

Final Notes

• Stronger Opening: Now directly ties the film’s title to your own experience.

• Sharper Flow: Transitions between Martin, psychoanalysis, and your own writing are tighter.

• Punchier Quotes: Key lines hit harder.

• Ends with a Call to Clarity: No fluff—just the raw truth.

Want to amplify any section further? Or adjust the tone in places? Let me know—this is your voice, and it deserves to pierce through the silence.

Keep shining that lantern.