(This article was originally published on Heroes & Heartbreakers.)
The presence of Trigger Warnings has been fast growing. We see them more and more. Sometimes clear, sometimes vague, but always—in my opinion—helpful.
I wish there were more of them.
But not everyone feels the way I do. Some complain they’re annoying, and they’re spoilers. It’s true. They do let the reader know what to expect. But for those of us who need trigger warnings, it sometimes makes it possible for us to read at all.
Many gravitate toward romance because it’s a safe space. We know the happily-ever-after will come. That love will triumph over evil. That no matter how bad it gets, it will all be okay. They provide a security no other genre can give us. In our real world, where HEA is not guaranteed in any part of our lives, romance novels are nothing short of priceless.
For the most part, our heroines and heroes won’t be harmed, assaulted or abused between the covers of the books. Usually, there won’t be any graphic violence or offensive slurs. These days, we expect consent in all romantic situations, unless of course it’s a character’s particular kink. In which case, a warning to the reader that this will be the case is polite.
I need my trigger warnings. I depend on them.
But without the warning, it blindsided me and shrouded me in anxiety.
I’ve read accounts where people who disagree say, I should learn to deal with the real world, and that trigger warnings are treating people as if they were babies.
Ouch.
My friends know that if I read something that triggers my PTSD it can set me back hours, if not days in anxiety and panic. Recovery from trauma is maddeningly slow. But it is possible. It’s a tough slog of therapy and positive self-talk and reinforcement that we are NOT in danger in daily life and that the trauma is over and we can lead lives free of hypervigilance for our safety. Avoiding triggering situations can be key to the re-wiring of the nervous system post-trauma.
Being forewarned that what you are about to witness could be triggering, the emotional preparation, the decision to read something that contains difficult content rather than being trapped in it makes all the difference. It gives one the power to choose. Because some days, there’s no way I can read past a trigger warning. But other days when I’m feeling stronger, I can.
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For someone who’s experienced a traumatic event they were forced to live through—choice is everything.
I’ve read books where this warning was not given.
Most recently, it came out of nowhere—the heroine being touched in an explicit way without her consent. It was shocking and, for me, panic inducing. If I’d had warning, I might have made it through okay, or been able to save it for a different day.
But without the warning, it blindsided me and shrouded me in anxiety.
You can bet I will never pick up another book from that author again.
It was from a publisher I trusted. I’ll think twice before I buy from them again. It’s made me weary of that subgenre.
For some, their reaction is the opposite.
For some a trigger warning would’ve spoil the surprise. For me, a trigger warning would’ve meant I could enjoy the book instead of losing a night of sleep to flashbacks. Or picked a different book to read.
There is no perfect answer.
What works for me inevitably spoils it for someone else.
If it were up to me, RWA would have a recommended policy for what fictional situations call for trigger warnings and best practices for how to include the warning in the book’s blurb. Having it be clear on the book’s meta data—the title or the cover is also good. As long as I don’t have to read between the lines to find it.
I recognize often authors and editors simply forget or don’t realize that their content can be triggering. And there is no perfect solution.
There are plenty of benign things that those of us with PTSD know we could never be warned about. Things that are unique to each person’s experience—colors, words, people, phrases, images, situations—can trigger the post-traumatic-stress. The hope that we could be warned about the more obvious graphic and offensive things is a plea for our struggle to be compassionately recognized.
You know where I stand. I like my trigger warnings.