Last week, a close friend from home sent me a flurry of texts about a conversation she had with a floormate, a “friend.”
He told her she deserved to be raped for not being more careful on campus. Of course, he didn’t know about her previous experience with sexual assault. He didn’t know his casual comment sent her crying to her dorm room, reliving the night when everything changed.
He didn’t know how much his words meant, how he took her back to the darkest place of her life in an instant. He was unaware that he triggered her. He probably didn’t know what “trigger words” meant.
Until recently, neither did I.
I was the person against trigger warnings. I thought they were overly politically correct, a way of sanitizing the information that’s supposed to open our collegiate brains to differing opinions and argument styles. To me, they were a method of policing intellectual life and making professors’ lives miserable. Most importantly, I thought they were unnecessary.
I was wrong. Honestly, in this society, it’s easy to be wrong. Everywhere we look, there’s a comedian lamenting the ‘PC’ environment on college campuses or a cover story accusing trigger warnings of “coddling the American mind.” That controversial story, recently published in The Atlantic, paints the trigger warning movement as “vindictive protectiveness” that could be “teaching students to think pathologically.”
The AU community is not exempt from this nationwide discussion. The University Faculty Senate has weighed in on trigger warnings, offering a mixed take that suggested professors advise students on potentially uncomfortable material but not in a way that would make students feel they could “opt out” of the assignment. The resolution took pains to state that “the Faculty Senate does not endorse offering ‘trigger warnings.’”
As SG President Sasha Gilthorpe pointed out in a prepared statement, the Faculty Senate only started soliciting student input on the resolution after it had passed unanimously. The Atlantic article cited anecdotal experiences with college students but never featured a student leader with a name, a face or a reason to desire trigger warnings. Faculty and journalists alike claim they want the best for students: an open, intellectual environment meant to challenge them to become better thinkers, better learners and better people.
I want that, too. I also want to be part of the conversation. I want professors and older generations to listen to us when we say trigger warnings are not censorship. They are not “coddling American minds.” They do not imply that students should “opt out” of reading controversial, provocative material.
Trigger warnings are exactly what the Faculty Senate advises professors to do: to offer students a heads-up before they tackle readings and material that may spark traumatic memories or emotions so that students can physically and mentally prepare to engage in that material. If faculty had consulted with student leaders before drafting and passing this resolution, they might have realized that there was no need for such a distinction.
I respect the right of professors to provide us with challenging material. Most of us, if not all of us, came to college for this experience, to engage in perspectives and beliefs that are much different from our own. We would not be here if we did not want to participate in intellectual life and grow from doing so. Trigger warnings, in their best form, do not prevent us from accomplishing that goal. They only give us more time and tools to achieve it.
I understand why people roll their eyes at the idea of trigger warnings, why they see a column like this and immediately reject the premise of warning students about controversial themes in course readings. I get it because I was one of those people. Part of me is still questioning their usefulness. These opinions are just as deserving of consideration as those arguing for trigger warnings. The problem is that older generations are ignoring all student voices, regardless of their stance on this issue.
AU orientation leaders beat it into our freshmen heads that we are a "community of care," A place where people step up and help each other when they need it most.
A community of care takes its students’ opinions into account when policy decisions directly impact their education. A community of care does not exclude students from the exact academic discussions that faculty claim are vital to our critical learning skills.
A community of care will listen now when I say we will not stop fighting to be heard on this issue. It’s time for AU to “Step Up” and embody the community it claims to be.
Haley Samsel is a freshman in the School of International Service.
