Um

[Content Note: Privilege; oppression.]

This is not surprising, but is certainly very infuriating:

People concerned about liberal political correctness on college campuses have a powerful ally: President Obama.

...[The President gave] his opinion about what's been called the "new political correctness" on college campuses:

It's not just sometimes folks who are mad that colleges are too liberal that have a problem. Sometimes there are folks on college campuses who are liberal, and maybe even agree with me on a bunch of issues, who sometimes aren't listening to the other side, and that's a problem too. I've heard some college campuses where they don't want to have a guest speaker who is too conservative or they don't want to read a book if it has language that is offensive to African-Americans or somehow sends a demeaning signal towards women. I gotta tell you, I don't agree with that either. I don't agree that you, when you become students at colleges, have to be coddled and protected from different points of view. I think you should be able to — anybody who comes to speak to you and you disagree with, you should have an argument with 'em. But you shouldn't silence them by saying, "You can't come because I'm too sensitive to hear what you have to say." That's not the way we learn either.

The word Obama chose is telling. The idea that college students are demanding to be "coddled" comes up frequently in debates about how much colleges should accommodate requests from students for trigger warnings on syllabuses, for example, or how they should respond to criticisms of graduation speakers or even comedy shows. A recent Atlantic article on the phenomenon was headlined "The Coddling of the American Mind."

There's nothing I can say about the idea that trigger warnings, or the exclusion of certain triggering material, is "coddling" students, readers, or whomever that I haven't already said a dozen times before.

Relatedly, I loathe this idea that refusing to engage with people who hold a viewpoint that essentially or explicitly subverts one's humanity is asking to be "coddled." Asking to be safe in a learning or working environment is not the same thing as asking to be "coddled," and drawing a boundary around ideas and/or people with whom one engages is not being "too sensitive."

There is literally no "opinion" on my humanity, my autonomy, my agency, my body that I haven't heard a million times, and I don't feel obliged to listen to every jackass who wants to tell me that I am less than in order to demonstrate my own tolerance.

I couldn't be "protected from different points of view" about my humanity, my autonomy, my agency, my body no matter how hard I tried, because there is pervasive messaging in every aspect of the culture in which I live that conveys to me that people do not think I am fully human because I am a woman, because I want control of my reproduction, because I am fat, because I am a person with a disability. And any person from any marginalized population is in the same damn boat. We can't escape these "different points of view" even if we want.

None of us are required to engage with every oppressor in order to sufficiently prove that we aren't "too sensitive."

Refusing to engage is a response. Drawing a boundary is a response. And a legitimate one.

And it is hardly the stuff of meekness and weakness. It isn't what I write about in this space for which I receive the most vicious, aggressive, tenacious pushback. It's the stuff that I refuse to tolerate in my space. Nothing, but nothing, results in more harassment than drawing boundaries.

I know what's going to happen when I say "no." And I do it anyway.

That isn't evidence of being too sensitive and brittle and coddled to engage. That's evidence of the fact that I have engaged enough, and I'm not interested in that sort of engagement anymore.

Drawing a line is an act of strength, not weakness.

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Shut Up!

F#@k Off, George Will

[Content Note: Rape culture.]

So, professional purveyor of toxic garbage George Will has delved into The Great Trigger Warning Debate of 2014, couching it in an argument that "colleges have become the victims of progressivism," and engaging in rank rape apologia while asserting that survivors have a "coveted status" as victims.

There is nothing I can say about this contemptible dreck and the asshole who wrote it that I didn't already say on Twitter, the sum total of which was: "George Will is a reprehensible shitbird."

But here is a place to talk about it, if you are so inclined.

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Shut Up!

Trigger Warnings, Again Again Again

[Content Note: Discussion of harm and survival.]

Over the past two days, I have seen three more articles about trigger warnings and their chilling effect blah blah fart. Because I can only write the same fucking thing over and over so many times, here is just a recap of some of what I tweeted yesterday, for those who aren't on Twitter and/or those who want the opportunity for discussion in this space.

Have at it.

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Trigger Warnings, Again Again

[Content Note: Discussion of trigger warnings and censorship.]

There has been a flurry of articles the past few months on trigger warnings, in many of which the feminist authors expressed concern about the use of trigger warnings and their "chilling" effect on speech.

The latest entry is Meghan Murphy's "A slow slide into censorship," which opens by noting that trigger warnings were, "until recently...relegated to certain corners of the feminist blogosphere."

By paragraph two, we've already arrived at the dire and increasingly familiar prediction that "these warnings can veer into overuse in an attempt to protect individuals from any and every imagined offence."

There's honestly nothing I can say to this that I haven't already said before, multiple times.

I Write Letters

On Triggers, Continued

I Get Letters

Triggered

Triggered, Continued

On Trigger Warnings, Once More

Etc.

I will simply observe, again, that it is not my experience that using trigger warnings, or content notes, leads to censorship. To the absolute contrary, I feel much more able to write about and discuss difficult subjects knowing that readers who may be triggered by the content have some means by which to assess their own safety of engagement.

[H/T to Jessica Luther.]

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Shut Up!

On Trigger Warnings, Once More

[Content Note: Discussion of potentially triggering material.]

Awhile ago, I was interviewed by Alison Vingiano for a story about the origins of trigger warnings and how they become ubiquitous. The story has now been published, so let's read it and then discuss!

On a personal note, I want to say what a pleasure it was so speak with Vingiano, and how responsive she has been. I had one minor (but meaningful) correction to the story, and when I let her know, she was completely understanding and accommodating and fixed it right away. Awesomeness.

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Shut Up!

Triggered, Continued

[Content Note: Narratives of oversensitivity; discussion of being triggered.]

The debate about trigger warnings and content notes (TWs/CNs) continues today, much of it surrounding a piece on the subject Jill Filipovic published at The Guardian entitled: "We've Gone Too Far with Trigger Warnings."

I don't really have much to add to what I already wrote yesterday, but here are a couple quick additional thoughts in response to some of the ongoing debate:

1. I keep seeing this phrase "gone too far." Too far for whom? Certainly not the people for whom TWs/CNs are useful, and might mean the difference between having a public panic attack and not having a public panic attack.

2. Having PTSD or other trauma-induced mental illness isn't a "vulnerability." That's a disablist mischaracterization.

3. The "infantilization" argument, which asserts that TWs/CNs treat readers, students, etc. like babies or weaklings, is really contemptuous of readers who appreciate TWs/CNs and the choice they provide. Offering choice doesn't diminish agency. Quite the opposite.

4. A frequent frame I'm seeing is that people who use TWs/CNs and people who have PTSD or other trauma-induced mental illness are mutually exclusive groups. To the contrary, often the people most invested in providing TWs/CNs to readers, students, friends, whomever are people who themselves experience triggers.

5. I really dislike the compilations of supposedly absurd TWs/CNs. What might appear "extreme" may be a writer's consideration for a specific reader. If you interact with your community a lot, you might be more aware of individual readers' needs. And dismissing attempts and sensitivity and inclusivity as nothing but "performativity" is shitty. Not for nothing, but I never get more fucking vile harassment than when I draw boundaries in this space to reduce harm for marginalized groups (which sometimes includes me and sometimes doesn't, depending on the situation). I know there are people who perform social justice crusader roles for cookies or whatever, but I can't imagine maintaining that facade for long unless this stuff really means something to you, because the cost is steep.

6. I don't understand this "you can't predict every single trigger ever" argument against the use of TWs/CNs. Because you might fail someone, you just resolve to definitely fail everyone? Okay.

7. The old HOW DO YOU EVEN EXIST IN THE WORLD? chestnut is flying fast and furious. You know—that ubiquitous exasperated rhetorical aimed at people who are triggered by stuff that most other people aren't. Well, here's the thing: For some people, existing in this world is actually very difficult.

And if you are someone who has survived abuse, or neglect, or poverty, or illness, or systemic oppression, or any one or more of the number of things that can leave someone with lingering consequences of trauma, but you've managed to survive without any triggers, or you've managed to find the resources and support and safety and space you needed to move beyond them, then good for you. You are very lucky.

I am very lucky. I am still occasionally triggered, but nothing like I was 20 years ago, where I was just emerging from three years of profound sexual abuse and felt like a raw nerve walking through the world. Part of that was my determination to process what had happened to me, and part of it was the hard work of doing that processing, and part of it was the sheer stupid luck of having the resources and support and safety and space I have needed, which sometimes just meant having a friend in the right place at the right time.

What if I'd not had this friend or that friend in the right place at the right time? During a rough month, or a single terrible afternoon? I dunno.

All I know is that if nothing ever happened to you that was bad enough to leave you traumatized, lucky you. And if something bad happened but you have survived it and/or processed it trigger-free, lucky you. And anyone who didn't isn't weak or damaged or oversensitive or too goddamn fragile for the world. They're unlucky.

If you understand why conservatives telling people without boots to pull up their bootstraps is indecent garbage, then it shouldn't be too difficult for you to understand why sneering at someone with triggers "I got over it" is indecent garbage, too.

Open Wide...

Shut Up!

Triggered

[Content Note: Narratives of oversensitivity; discussion of being triggered.]

Via Jessica Luther, I see that there's another entry, care of Jenny Jarvie in The New Republic, in the increasingly frequent genre of articles about how trigger warnings are ultimately harmful and their proliferation "now threatens to define public discussion both online and off."

Jarvie is concerned about the use of trigger warnings spilling into offline spheres, like university classrooms, and frets about the possibility of trigger warnings slippery-sloping their way into all aspects of communication (oh the humanity):

The backlash has not stopped the growth of the trigger warning, and now that they've entered university classrooms, it's only a matter of time before warnings are demanded for other grade levels. As students introduce them in college newspapers, promotional material for plays, even poetry slams, it's not inconceivable that they'll appear at the beginning of film screenings and at the entrance to art exhibits. Will newspapers start applying warnings to articles about rape, murder, and war? Could they even become a regular feature of speech? "I was walking down Main Street last night when—trigger warning—I saw an elderly woman get mugged."

Film rating systems, which include warnings about certain types of content, including sexual and violent content, have existed for years. Although they are not typically broadcast at the beginning of a screening, with the exception of cable broadcasts where that has been standard practice for some time, viewers can easily access in trailers, reviews, and listings on sites like IMDb notes about the content of a film before viewing it. Newspapers, too, frequently offer notes about content at the top of in-depth investigative pieces about systemic abuse or violent crime, especially when there are graphic descriptions within the story. These sorts of habits already exist in some measure, which makes the alarmism about trigger warnings misplaced, at best.

But what if, as Jarvie fears, trigger warnings (or some variation, like Shakesville's content notes) became common, even in interpersonal communication?

Well, first it's important to understand what a trigger warning actually is. And for that, it's important to understand what being triggered really means: Being triggered does not mean "being upset" or "being offended" or "being angry," or any other euphemism people who roll their eyes long-sufferingly in the direction of trigger warnings tend to imagine it to mean. Being triggered has a very specific meaning that relates to evoking a physical and/or emotional response to a survived trauma or sustained systemic abuse.

To say, "I was triggered" is not to say, as it is frequently mischaracterized, "I got my delicate fee-fees hurt." It is to say, "I had a significantly mood-altering experience of anxiety." Someone who is triggered may experience anything from a brief moment of dizziness, to a shortness of breath and a racing pulse, to a full-blown panic attack.

Speaking about trigger warnings as though they exist for the purposes of indulging fragile sensibilities fundamentally misses their purpose: To mitigate harm.

If a very simple strategy for harm mitigation went into wider usage, that would be a good thing, hardly a reason to wring one's hands.

And, like film ratings systems and newspaper reader warnings, there exist people for whom this type of sensitive communication is already in use. Most of my friends and colleagues make use of some sort of "heads-up" about potentially triggering material, whether it's an explicit content note at the top of an email, or a, "Hey, are you in a space where I can talk to you about X?" in conversation.

Contrary to the idea that this limits the subjects about which we speak, creating a space in which we center safety and frank communication about difficult subjects, it means that we have meaningful and constructive conversations, in moments where everyone has the emotional wherewithal to have them. The only thing that's been curtailed is the idea that we have the freedom to disgorge at each other without consideration for whether someone about whom we care is prepared for a heavy conversation. In other words: Harm mitigation.

When I recently gave a workshop on rape culture, I opened the session by communicating to everyone in attendance that they may have unexpected (or expected) reactions to the material, and everyone should feel free to leave if they needed to, without worry of judgment or causing offense. "I want you to prioritize your self-care." It took all of two minutes of my time to create that little bit of safety, for which people thanked me afterwards.

The thing about being a person who is triggered is that sometimes knowing you can leave gives you the space you need to stay.

If we understand that being robbed of one's consent or agency or humanity can result in an anxiety disorder, it shouldn't be difficult to understand that explicit communication that reduces the feeling of being obliged, coerced, trapped can mitigate that anxiety in potentially triggering situations.

It's just a basic politeness, in response to recognizing that we live in a fucked-up world that harms lots of people in similar ways.

And it's such an easy thing to do. The only reason I can imagine resistance to trigger warnings, or whatever variation, is that their ubiquity will create an expectation of sensitivity with which people can't be bothered. The sort of people who say that people who need trigger warnings are too sensitive, rather than conceding that maybe it is they who are simply not sensitive enough.

Trigger warnings don't make people "oversensitive." They acknowledge that there is a lot of garbage in the world that causes people lasting harm. If for no other reason, I defend my use of content notes on the basis that to fail to use them is to abet the damnable lie that everything's pretty much okay for everyone, and people who have been harmed are outliers.

And, no, I don't worry that I am infantilizing my readers, who have the choice whether to make use of content notes or skip them altogether, based on their individual needs. Nor do I worry that "you can't possibly predict all triggers!"—the reddest of all red herring arguments against using trigger warnings. Sure, you can't. I can't. But I can give it my best effort.

It's not just about me, and the other writers in this space, anyway: It's also about the readers. "The provision of content notes is an exchange in which readers must participate: We communicate the information, and readers must assess their own immediate capacity to process content in the noted categories, then proceed accordingly."

Trigger warnings, or content notes, are a communication between two people. Not a proclamation.

And, ultimately, they indirectly communicate something else very important between a writer and hir reader: To some degree, trigger warnings have emerged as a sort of metric for how inclusive a blog community is. The presence or absence of trigger warnings can serve as a good faith litmus test for whether a writer is sensitive to issues that affect you, and whether the commentariat is likely to be supportive or hostile toward your participation. It's a reasonable thing for a reader to expect that a blogger who provides a trigger warning or content note about transphobia, for example, will have moderators who do not allow rampant transphobia in comments.

Trigger warnings are thus not strictly just an indicator of potentially troubling content on the main page, but also an indicator of how safe the space might be for you overall.

Evidence of sensitivity is suggestive of safety.

Online, offline, everywhere.

Open Wide...

Shut Up!

I Get Letters

Whenever I get an email addressed to "Shakesville," I know it's going to be a doozy. This one was too enjoyable, ahem, to keep to myself, so now I share it with all of you. Enjoy!

Dear Shakesville,

I haven't been perusing your website for long, but recently I've been checking in on it. I would like to register my disapproval of one of your practices. Most of your articles and links are prefaced by a "content note," eg. "Content note: this link discusses misogyny." I believe this trend, on your site and others, stemmed out of the newly common "trigger warnings" which give advance notice of discussions of graphic violence. While trigger warnings seem courteous and promote a safe space for people who have suffered trauma, your content notes seem to have an effect contrary to what your website, and feminism in general, ought to be pursuing. You seem to be trying to protect your readers from coming across anything which might upset, bother, disturb, or worry them. You seem afraid to let someone accidentally stumble upon any reminder that the world is dark and imperfect, that there are unpleasant, backwards, or ignorant folks out there. Even when the discussion itself is presented in the most accepting possible language, you insist on pre-warning your readership about exactly what they will be facing.

These warnings have, to my mind, the effect of alienating the very people who ought to be reading the articles and would get the most out of them. A prefacing note which reads "Content note: article discusses racism, classism, homophobia, and trans-phobia" says to me (a straight, white, middle-class, cis woman) that the article does not apply to me. When of course, the reason we are interested in these problems is not because they need to relate directly to our own lives, but because we care about justice and freedom from hatred and discrimination for all people.

I believe that this trend of prefacing any discussion of the negative things in the world with an infantalizing warning needs to be discontinued. Trust your readers to boldly face the reality of human nature. The world won't get better by pretending that we can choose to hide from it.

Respectfully,

[Some Asshole]

Apparently, one of the things my correspondent hasn't "checked in on" is the Commenting Policy: "Content Notes are provided to give readers the option to assess whether they've got the spoons (pdf) to process material that is potentially triggering to them. The provision of Content Notes is an exchange in which readers must participate: We communicate the information, and readers must assess their own immediate capacity to process content in the noted categories, then proceed accordingly."

But I don't guess I ought to be surprised that someone who imagines an article about oppression of groups to which she doesn't belong is something that does not apply to her (!!!) has as much a problem with the concept of "agency" that she does with the concept of "privilege." Providing content notes is the opposite of infantilizing: It recognizes and respects individual agency, lived experience, and immediate capacity to process.

A content note does not promise to protect readers, but provides them with the opportunity to decide whether they need to protect themselves.

We provide content notes because they give survivors of various trauma and oppressive harm the option to assess whether they're in a state of mind to deal with potentially triggering material before they stumble across it. It's a politeness. I don't feel inclined to apologize for that.

[Related Reading: I Write Letters.]

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Shut Up!

How Do Trigger Warnings Fit into the Classroom Lesson Plan?

by Ruxandra Looft, a lecturer at Iowa State University. She can be found on Twitter as @ruxandralooft and editing/writing for the feminist news and advocacy site Flyover Feminism. She lives in Iowa with her partner, daughter, overzealous dog, and a garage full of bikes.

[Content Note: Sexual harassment; rape culture. Cross-posted at Flyover Feminism.]

I'm teaching a Germany current events class at my university this semester. In broad strokes, we cover topics such as media, politics, environmentalism, and identity. The goal of the class is to break away from clichéd images of Germans as Lederhosen-wearing beer-slinging Oktoberfest attendees to a more complex and thoughtful understanding of what it means to be "German" or to live in Germany today.

We had just wrapped up our media unit and had begun discussions about German politics and Germany's political parties when the colossal #Aufschrei Twitter campaign reached our eyes. What started as a sexist comment from Rainer Brüderle (member of Germany's Free Democrats Party) towards a female journalist became the catalyst that inspired media consultant and activist Anne Wizorek to speak out and organize German women's complaints of sexual harassment in bold and candid tweets earmarked with the hashtag #Aufschrei (outcry).

The movement quickly organized to include a website, a Twitter account (@aufschreien), and the sister hashtags (#EverydaySexism, #AlltagsSexismus, #outcry). Feminists all over the world added their tweets to the conversation. A grassroots movement at the intersection of media, politics, and feminism was born. I couldn't wait to talk to my students about it.

But as I compiled links for required readings in preparation of our discussions, I found myself increasingly at odds about how much and how explicitly to talk about sexism and sexual harassment. (This powerful yet harrowing post by Rebecca Solnit in the Tom Dispatch in particular made me question how much and how freely to link to relevant material). When writing about these topics, one can preface articles with trigger warnings cautioning readers about the content ahead. A reader living with trauma caused by the personal experience of the content presented is given the agency to read or not read the words that follow. To remain present or to remove herself from the situation.

But what happens when a student is trapped in a classroom where a discussion brings up terrible and traumatic memories? How can a student easily and subtly remove herself from that moment?

I have thought about prefacing our discussions with a trigger warning introduction to the class but I question how effective that would be. By saying that we are going to discuss topics of a sensitive nature that may make some people uncomfortable and offering students the chance to leave, aren't the very students meant to be spared then singled out and isolated in front of the entire class? While well intentioned, that offer seems useless at best and marginalizing at worst.

The other option? Steering clear of volatile topics in the classroom and playing it safe. But by not talking about harassment, the sorry state of gender equality, and the heroic efforts put forth by activists seems akin to throwing the baby out with the bathwater. There has to be a better way. But how does one work trigger warnings into the classroom lesson plan? How does a teacher effectively and sensitively negotiate topics that require trigger warnings and how are escape options presented in a sensitive and appropriate manner to students whose past traumas follow them into the classroom?

I'm still working on how to best integrate volatile topics into my courses. On how to strike that balance between fostering an atmosphere of openness and willingness to tackle difficult subjects while watching for the cues and signals that relate someone's discomfort and pain. Most importantly, I'm still searching for that verbal equivalent of a written "trigger warning" with which to give my students the agency to walk away when needed.

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On Triggers, Continued

So, after her first shot at trigger warnings, Susannah Breslin is back with more, this time explaining why "trigger warnings don't work."

In reality, trigger warnings are unrealistic. They are the dream-child of a fantasy in which the unknown can be labeled, anticipated, and controlled. What trigger warnings promise — protection — does not exist. The world is simply too chaotic, too out-of-control for every trigger to be anticipated, avoided, and defused. Even if every single potentially trigger-inducing blog post could be demarcated as such — a categorical impossibility — what would be the point?

Well, I don't guess I ought to be surprised that someone who describes the feminist movement as "women who promote themselves as victims of a patriarchy that no longer exists" fails utterly to apply even the most basic feminist tenet to her argument: Recognizing and respecting individual agency.

A trigger warning does not promise to protect readers of potentially triggering material, but provide them with the opportunity to decide whether they need to protect themselves. As I said in my last piece (which she links in hers and thus ostensibly read): We provide trigger warnings because they give survivors of various stripes the option to assess whether they're in a state of mind to deal with triggering material before they stumble across it.

Breslin accuses feminist writers of "handing out trigger warnings like party favors at a girl's-only slumber party," which is certainly designed primarily to insult writers like me, but doesn't say much for what she thinks of feminist readers, either. I don't view my readers as children at a party. I respect them as adults, with autonomy, agency, and the ability to consent—their own best decision-makers, their own best advocates, and their own best protectors.

The provision of a trigger warning is not one-sided. It is an exchange. It is a communication: I provide the information, and my readers assess their own immediate capacity to process triggering material and proceed accordingly.

Breslin's argument only works if feminist readers are infantilized, if (primarily) women are treated like gormless, passive babies who can't be trusted to make decisions for themselves. Which is pretty much the founding premise of the entire patriarchy which totes doesn't exist anymore, ahem.

The thing is, Breslin is right when she asserts that "the world is simply too chaotic, too out-of-control for every trigger to be anticipated, avoided, and defused." But this isn't "the world." This is one very specific space in the world which seeks to be different from everything else.

She frames that as delusional. Well, okay. But I call it being the change I want to see.

Tomato. Tomahto.

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Shut Up!

I Write Letters

[Trigger warning.]

Dear Susannah Breslin:

I'm guessing that any one of the ladies at Feministing would have happily explained to you what a trigger warning actually is, since—shockingly!—it turns out that "Yahoo! Answers" isn't always the best source on the internetz. But since you didn't bother to ask them, or any of the other feminist/womanist writers in the blogosphere who use trigger warnings, let me offer my services, so that you might base your opinion of trigger warnings on Actual Facts.

It's accurate that a trigger warning is "A warning placed in the title of an e-mail or post to let possible readers know that the content might trigger (or upset) them," but that's not much use as far as explanations go when the word trigger itself hasn't been defined. (Although I note the random answerer you quoted actually did provide a bit of information in a separate response, which you chose to ignore.)

A trigger is something that evokes survived trauma or ongoing disorder. For example, a person who was raped may be "triggered," i.e. reminded of hir rape, by a graphic description of sexual assault, and that reminder may, especially if the survivor has post-traumatic stress disorder, be accompanied by anxiety, manifesting as anything ranging from mild agitation to self-mutilation to a serious panic attack.

Those of us who write about triggering topics (sexual assault, violence, detainee torture, war crimes, disordered eating, suicide, etc.) provide trigger warnings with such content because we don't want to inadvertently cause someone who's, say, sitting at her desk at work, a full-blown panic attack because she happened to read a triggering post the content of which she was unprepared for.

We provide trigger warnings because they give survivors of various stripes the option to assess whether they're in a state of mind to deal with triggering material before they stumble across it. Just like someone who isn't easily triggered can nonetheless have, say, a shorter temper when stressed or tired or hungry, a person whose history of trauma makes some material triggering for them can often navigate triggering material without a problem, except when stressed or tired or hungry. Trigger warnings give them a moment to consider whether they want to deal with potentially triggering material right now.

We provide trigger warnings because it's polite, because we don't want to be the asshole who triggered a survivor of sexual assault because of carelessness or laziness or ignorance.

We provide trigger warnings because we know that 1 out of every 6 women and 1 out of every 10 men is a survivor of sexual assault or attempted sexual assault, many of them having survived multiple sexual assaults, and just because the larger culture doesn't acknowledge the existence of this vast population of people doesn't mean we don't have to.

We provide trigger warnings because we understand what they actually are.

And now, so do you! Yay!

One hopes you will take this information on board and reconsider whether it's not that the ladies of Feministing and their readership are, in fact, too sensitive, but perhaps it's that you were simply not sensitive enough.

Because, I gotta be honest, I'm pretty sure I could make a decent case that ridiculing a feminist site for being thoughtful to survivors is evidence of not being sensitive enough with two hands tied behind my back.

Sincerely,
Liss

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Shut Up!