Just say yes to trigger warnings

ust as we’ve become more aware of how deep the psychological wounds of traumatic experiences can go, rigger warnings (I prefer to refer to them as content warnings) have also started to become more prevalent. Just as there are things we’ve done in our pasts that we’d rather not dredge up accidentally or on purpose, so too are there individuals who would prefer a disclaimer or warning about material they’re about to read or watch that may send fissures cracking through the foundation they’ve built over their traumas.

My Definition of a Trigger/Content Warning
To me, adding a content warning to an article, film, discussion, syllabus, or anything else is a display of good manners. Just as you would warn a vegetarian that a soup contains chicken stock or a houseguest that a step is loose, that same sense of caring and compassion is exemplified in offering a content warning. The core concept of good manners is to make people feel at ease and comfortable in your presence, which can’t be done if you show a blatant disregard for their lifestyles, preferences, or past experiences.

The Other Side of the Game
One thing we have to bear in mind when it comes to content warnings is that there are different responses to the same stimuli. Just like you might not give a flying TIE fighter about the newest Star Wars movie, someone else might be willing to have a kidney removed without anesthesia to get a front row seat.

The same idea holds true of traumatic experiences. You don’t get to decide what’s traumatic for another person. If you grew up in a war-torn country and had shots and screams as a morning alarm clock, you might not bothered in the slightest by seeing someone having their head blown off right in front of you. The same might not be necessarily true of someone who grew up in an extremely isolated environment. Content warnings aren’t coddling; they’re an acknowledgement.

Shooting Straight
Now, I won’t say that everything needs a content warning. I know they can be especially problematic in academia where students might opt out of a discussion rather than risk being uncomfortable at the sake of learning something or earning a degree. It can also be difficult to determine which students have a good reason for opting out and which are simply taking advantage of the option.

One thing to remember about higher learning is that no one (usually) is forced to go to college. Not only that, but the sheer expense of earning a degree weeds out most of the individuals who don’t want to be in the classroom. What I’m getting at is that someone who truly wants to learn, who truly wants to improve him/herself in and out of the classroom despite past traumas will find a way to weave around psychological obstacles and do what it takes to complete a class or participate in a discussion. Not reading a single article is one thing, but depriving yourself of an opportunity to learn and grow (and possibly find a new way to cope with your trauma) is another.

There’s a time and place for content warnings. Just as you shouldn’t be surprised to see naked bodies and drinking in a strip club, you shouldn’t be surprised to encounter provocative ideas and content on a college campus. Simply because someone who’s experienced trauma and is given a content warning doesn’t automatically mean he or she will “back away.” A content warning is just as much of a precaution as it is a choice.