Rembrandt Editor began with a profound realisation: digital content can harm people in ways we rarely acknowledge. While I was working across various digital transformation projects, I saw firsthand how seemingly innocuous website copy, forms and questionnaires could inadvertently retraumatise vulnerable users. This wasn’t just a theoretical concern, but it was affecting real people at moments when they most needed compassionate support.

The catalyst

A few years ago, I was leading content strategy for a major government service. During user testing, I witnessed a participant become visibly distressed whilst reading through what we thought was straightforward, plain English guidance. Their reaction wasn’t due to confusion but rather to the thoughtlessly direct language we’d used to describe a traumatic situation that mirrored their own experience.

That moment changed everything for me. Despite creating content and content strategies for decades, I realised that although we’d followed all the standard content design best practices, we’d utterly failed to consider how our words might impact someone carrying the weight of past trauma. We were unintentionally creating barriers for the very people who most needed our services.

As someone with a background in knowledge work optimisation and workplace content strategy, I felt that I had to do something to address this gap. Whilst accessibility tools existed for technical compliance, I couldn’t find anything specifically designed to help content creators identify potentially triggering or retraumatising language patterns.

The knowledge void

What surprised me most was the lack of awareness. Many digital professionals I spoke with were genuinely shocked to learn about the neurobiological impacts of trauma on information processing.

The fact that stress, anxiety and trauma can fundamentally alter how people comprehend content was rarely discussed in standard design guidelines or training programmes.

“I’d been a content designer for nearly a decade,” a colleague confided. “Yet no one had ever mentioned trauma-informed approaches. We were taught to be clear and concise, but not necessarily careful”.

That doesn’t surprise me. I was given responsibility for all online content for Universal Credit, the UK government’s flagship welfare reform programme, in 2012 – my first year as a content designer after a decade of running business websites.

There was hardly any guidance available in those days for content specialists. The Government Digital Service (GDS) had just been founded and was working flat-out to create guidance and consistency. I was able to feed everything I learned at Universal Credit straight into GDS guidelines for transactional content on GOV.UK. It was a different time.

Back to here and now. I began researching everything I could about trauma-informed care principles and how they might translate to digital service delivery. I devoured research papers, attended workshops with trauma specialists and consulted with victim support organisations.

The more I learned, the more convinced I became that we needed practical tools to bridge this knowledge gap.

Building the prototype

Rembrandt Editor emerged from this conviction. I envisioned a tool that would do for trauma-awareness what Grammarly had done for writing mechanics: a simple, accessible way for content creators to identify potentially harmful patterns in their work before publication.

I named it after Rembrandt because, like the Dutch master’s paintings that revealed humanity through light and shadow, I wanted this tool to demonstrate a profound understanding of nuances of human vulnerability. This shows us both what to avoid and how to approach sensitive topics with care.

Well, that – and my Italian greyhound is called Rembrandt.

The initial prototype was embarrassingly simple: a basic text editor with a small library of pattern-matching algorithms that could flag potentially problematic phrases. It couldn’t offer nuanced suggestions, but it could at least highlight areas that might warrant further consideration.

What made this different from existing readability tools was its focus. Rembrandt wasn’t concerned with reading age or grammatical complexity. It was specifically designed to identify language patterns that might be experienced as controlling, dismissive, minimising or retraumatising.

The technical challenge

Developing the algorithm presented unique challenges. Unlike spelling or grammar checking, evaluating potential psychological impact requires contextual understanding. A phrase that’s perfectly appropriate in one context might be deeply triggering in another.

I approached this by collaborating with clinical psychologists and trauma specialists to identify common linguistic patterns that often cause distress. These included:

• Imperative commands that might reinforce powerlessness
• Minimising language that invalidates experiences
• Unexplained technical terminology around traumatic experiences
• Abrupt transitions when discussing sensitive topics
• Assumptions about shared experiences or universal responses 

The most challenging aspect was balancing sensitivity with practicality. We didn’t want to create a tool that was so restrictive it rendered effective communication impossible, but we needed to ensure it caught genuinely problematic patterns.

At precisely the right moment, Thomas Joy responded to my LinkedIn post and directed me in the right direction to create the app. 

Beyond technical compliance

Through this journey, it has become increasingly clear that trauma-informed content design goes far beyond tick-box compliance or word substitution. It requires a fundamental shift in how we approach communication with our users.

It means recognising that behind every screen is a human with their own complex history. It means embracing choice, transparency, collaboration, empowerment and safety as guiding principles in everything we create. Most importantly, it means being willing to continuously learn and adapt our approaches based on feedback from those with lived experience.

Rembrandt Editor isn’t meant to replace human judgment or sensitivity. Rather, it’s designed to augment it, to serve as a thoughtful assistant that prompts reflection and encourages more compassionate communication.

The current state and future vision

The free prototype available now at RembrandtApp.com represents just the beginning of what I hope will become a comprehensive suite of tools for creating more inclusive digital experiences. It remains deliberately simple to encourage widespread adoption, but I have ambitious plans for its evolution.

Future versions will incorporate more sophisticated natural language processing to better understand context and intent. I’m working on developing customised guidance for different sectors (healthcare, legal services, education) and specific user groups (survivors of domestic violence, refugees, those with complex trauma histories). I also plan to offer a mobile phone app and browser extension plugin.

But perhaps what excites me most is Rembrandt’s potential as an educational tool, not just flagging potentially harmful content but helping content creators understand why certain approaches might be problematic and offering evidence-based alternatives.

I didn’t want Rembrandt Editor to be a simple AI tool that does all the hard work for you. As a senior content specialist with four decades of experience, I recognised that its real value lies in raising awareness and educating writers where their content might be considered to fall short of trauma-informed, vulnerability-aware guidelines, and why. 

The community response

Since launching the prototype, I’ve been overwhelmed by the response. Content designers, user researchers, service designers and accessibility specialists have embraced the tool, not just using it but contributing valuable insights that continue to shape its development.

“This made me completely rethink how we approach our crisis support pages,” one user told me. “I’d never considered how our well-intentioned instructions might actually increase someone’s sense of powerlessness during an already vulnerable moment.”

What’s been most affirming is hearing from those with lived experience of trauma who have validated the approach. Their generous sharing of perspectives has been invaluable in refining the tool and ensuring it serves those who need it most.

The invitation

Creating truly trauma-informed digital services isn’t something I can accomplish alone. It requires collective wisdom, diverse perspectives, and ongoing dialogue. That’s why I’m reaching out now, at this critical development stage, for feedback from specialists across relevant fields.

If you’re a trauma-aware content specialist, user researcher, trauma specialist, victim support worker or someone with lived experience navigating digital services, I want to hear from you. What patterns have you observed that might not be captured yet? What nuances should be considered? How can this tool better serve both content creators and end users?

Making our digital world more compassionate isn’t just about avoiding harm, but about actively creating spaces where everyone, regardless of their past experiences, can engage fully and safely. Rembrandt Editor represents my small contribution to that vision, but its true potential will only be realised through collaboration.

I invite you to try the tool, share your thoughts and join me in this ongoing journey towards more humane, inclusive digital spaces.

Remember that it is only a prototype at this stage, but I would love to hear how you would like to see it develop.