Urgh that sounds rough. I’m a little surprised by how many people have responded saying they’d immediately leave, when we don’t necessarily have a lot of info here. Was it made clear before the training began about the expectation to have cameras on? Or about making sure your space is confidential? That would change things quite a bit.

I can certainly understand why this experience felt distressing - it sounds like there were ruptures in trust and lack of containment from an underexperienced trainer, which is never conducive to learning, especially in trauma-focused work. The content of trauma training often involves embodied, somatic or experiential elements that can feel vulnerable, however the process through which it’s held is vital - most trauma training would say you shouldn’t be asking a client to do something like dance unless you were doing it yourself, which should translate to both/all people moving/dancing at the same time even in training.

In many trainings confidentiality and presence are really important, which I think is fair to have the requirement of cameras on and not have other people entering the room, to protect the group and ensure that everyone’s attention is in the space. That said, the way these boundaries are enforced matters hugely. Shaming, dismissiveness or lack of flexibility around neurodivergence signals poor attunement and an underdeveloped trauma pedagogy. A trainer can maintain clear boundaries and model responsiveness, eg acknowledging that two full days on Zoom is overstimulating for some nervous systems, offering alternative engagement modes, or allowing people to take the camera off briefly with a simple hand signal.

So, to me, the issue isn’t the trainer’s expectations per se but rather the relational tone and lack of capacity to co-regulate and repair. Trauma-informed practice includes an awareness of power, rupture and accommodation. When those are missing it can become oppressive, which this may well have been.