So, of course I have been enjoying my Threads when a post came up discussing trigger warnings and how they impact one’s reading journey.
As a survivor of different kinds of trauma, I have varying perspectives on how I read said trauma. Somethings trigger me differently than others, and honestly, I don’t know how I will respond to the varying books I read. Each and every one is different. Each unique in their experience.
One thing to know about me, I read the dark stuff. I write the dark stuff. In general, I am pretty dark.
But I am also extremely bright and cheery.
It is a juxtaposition I live with. I am okay with knowing I am both.
That being said, when I am not expecting something on page, it can be extremely jarring and set me off more so than the descriptors and actions I am reading about. If I have been forewarned, I can brace for shock, but no trigger warning or overly vague ones leave me rearing back trying to recover from something I wasn’t expecting. And that’s knowing I like it dark.
I am good with the dark. The dark and I are friends. We are simpatico.
Yet, I still need to know when I am dealing with dark because otherwise my bright and cheerful side will feel violated.
I liken it to this: when I was a kid—a chipper ten-year-old, growing up in Southern California—I had my very first trip to Knott’s Scary Farm, the best damned Halloween Haunt in the western world (and you won’t get me to admit otherwise). Now the thing about a good Halloween Haunt is there are all kinds of monsters and creepy things chasing you through the streets and the mazes. It is glorious (expect for the clowns, those creeptastic assholes can shove it). In case you wondered where my love of monster goodness began, it was birthed here. This trip.
I was scared of course, but I was with my big brother, and he let me cower in his jacket—yes, he was still wearing it but never mind that—and I felt safe. Safe in the dark.
I learned to be prepared for the scary things that go bump in the dark.
I went to the Halloween Haunt every year for the next fifteen years after that (multiple times a year in fact) until I moved away and lost the access to my beloved haunt.
Side note—this is also where I fell in love with monsters from a very adult perspective…and the chase but that’s a whole other post.
Aaanywho…without the comfort and preparation of the safety net—like my brother’s jacket, and really my brother’s patience with me—I wouldn’t have been okay with the darkness.
A trigger warning, to me, is like that jacket—okay, okay, it was really just my brother but don’t tell him that—without it, I am not prepared to walk through the dark mazes of whatever I am reading.
So let’s no longer be vague or think that your readers should put their big girls pants on and simply DNF once they see the thing that triggers them. That is just too damn late.
And if you write about clowns, you’d better make that pretty damn apparent so I can stay the hell away from it.
Thank you. That is all.
コメント