College students are coddled children incapable of engaging difficult content without dissolving into an emotional frenzy. This sentiment appearing in a string of recent articles, such as in “The Coddling of the American Mind,” is what The Atlantic and others would have you believe about the modern university student. It couldn’t be further from the truth.
The source of this widespread panic over students’ mental fortitude appears to be trigger warnings. The Atlantic defines trigger warnings as “alerts that professors are expected to issue if something in a course might cause a strong emotional response.” The article goes on to detail numerous cases the authors feel illustrate college students in crisis.
The Atlantic authors, and others, seem to be confused as to what, exactly, a trigger warning is. Simply put, a trigger warning is a notification that a writer or professor may choose to include warning people that the subsequent material may elicit an intensely emotional response. Good writers, professors and journalists have been doing this for years: letting students know that a particular reading may be difficult to get through so students can prepare themselves. If you’re watching the news, you generally expect a warning before a particularly grisly murder scene pops on screen. Fans of the shows “House” and “Law and Order” can recall a “Viewer discretion is advised” warning at the beginning of each episode. These are the kinds of trigger warnings we have grown accustomed to – and appreciative of – in everyday life.
Trigger warnings are a simple courtesy, a “heads-up,” that difficult material is to follow. A very common use for a trigger warning is on material related to sexual assault. You may have noticed that my last column began with this kind of trigger warning. I chose, as a writer, to include a warning because for some survivors of sexual assault, reading materials that detail assault can be especially traumatizing. I’m not talking about the “oh that makes me uncomfortable and sad” kind of emotion. I’m talking about reading materials that elicit flashbacks to intensely horrific memories, physical responses related to PTSD, disorientation resulting from depression and a quickened heartbeat from anxiety. When reading articles that don’t include trigger warnings and then suddenly happening upon detailed descriptions of sexual assault, survivors are left completely unprepared. What if they were reading the article in math class? Alone walking at night? Attaching a trigger warning is a courtesy to survivors, so that they may either choose to pass on reading the content or choose to read it at another time. No one is going to force a writer to include a trigger warning, but we as writers can ourselves choose to respect the experiences of the many survivors around us by including them.
A common critique of trigger warnings is that they lead to emotional coddling. According to critics, this is an unkind and dangerous world, so you must face your problems head on. For instance, The Atlantic article authors argue that the only way for a woman to get over her fear of riding elevators is for her to ride them. Allowing her to avoid her fear thus forever retains it. This analogy is problematic on a number of levels – comparing the fear of elevators to the trauma of sexual assault – but the conclusion that we are not responsible for respecting her fear and are even complicit in encouraging it is inaccurate. While the solution may indeed be to encourage her to comfortably ride elevators again, you probably aren’t going to successfully achieve this by telling her you’re going to take the stairs, and then suddenly shoving her onto an elevator. You would probably warn her first, rather than just force her to suddenly face her intense fear without any sort of preparation.
Survivors already know that this is a dangerous world by virtue of our experiences. Adding a trigger warning to content doesn’t coddle us, and it isn’t a critic’s job to make sure that we “face our fears.” We don’t tell veterans to get over their PTSD by watching war films. Trigger warnings just provide the wonderful, rare instances in which we aren’t being shoved onto elevators.
Another common critique of trigger warnings is that they lead to the censorship of material, especially in universities. Trigger warnings are not meant to be censorship devices, and they don’t lead to censorship. They are not meant to change the content of what they accompany. Trigger warnings are a courtesy that professors can use to play an important role in respecting the experiences of survivors. In my time at Duke I’ve had three professors provide trigger warnings. The first was before we began reading a book that detailed the repeated, graphic rape of a young child. The second was for a class where we would be talking about rape as a tactic of war. The third was regarding rape in a legal studies context. These were all courtesies; my professors were not going to change their content or eliminate controversial sets of reading. But they recognized the intensity of what they asked, especially for the victims of trauma.
Professors aren’t being forced to add trigger warnings. Their content isn’t being censored. In fact, being told that you are unable to include a trigger warning on material is an actual, tangible act of censorship. I experienced this while writing my last column, when I had to fight incredibly hard with the editorial staff to be allowed to begin my editorial, in the opinion section, with a trigger warning, even though it was completely my prerogative to do so.
It can be easy to toss aside the idea of trigger warnings as frivolous and silly, especially if you aren’t a victim of trauma. But as human beings, we should care about the experiences of other people and in having authentic interactions with our peers. We shouldn’t be trying to ambush people and throw them onto elevators. We give each other warnings, we acknowledge each other’s experiences and we walk forward in this dangerous world together.
Dana Raphael is a Trinity junior. Her column runs on alternate Mondays.
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