I’m sympathetic to people with triggers. Heck, I have a handful of triggers myself! There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t see someone look at me “in a weird way” in my mind, and throw me into a brainstorm of, “why did she do that?” “Is he going to kill me?” Seriously.

Since triggers are everywhere — on television, in real life, and in articles — many news sites have started using trigger warnings when authors discuss “delicate” topics. But does every article that contains possibly trigger-causing content need a disclaimer? I’m not so sure…

I read a lot of feminist blogs and magazines. These news sources always have interesting pieces and include voices of women and men who are passionate and smart. But often — too often — each piece leads off with a:

Trigger Warning

Followed by, “rape, race, violent issues are discussed in this piece.”

At first I was pleased when I saw these warnings. But now I feel like I see these warnings, like, four times a day.

I’m not saying that trigger warnings aren’t useful or needed. There are plenty pieces online that contain incredibly detailed accounts of assault. But now it seems it’s commonplace for a piece to prominently feature a trigger warning if the word “rape” is even mentioned in passing. It seems a bit like overkill.

I think part of the reason I’m so frustrated with trigger warnings lately is because most of my triggers are so difficult to pinpoint. Certain benign phrases can send my brain into a downward spiral of yuck. There’s no way a trigger warning would have even made sense in these scenarios. Also, I feel like so many pieces that are written under the “self help” umbrella can potentially be triggering, too. But does that mean every blog that contains clean eating advice, or a new exercise regimen should come with a big, red, trigger warning? Heck no.

When used properly — and sparsely — I think trigger warnings can do a lot of good and help readers decipher the content they are about to read. But when used too much, these warnings can make everyone — even survivors — eyes roll.

Related on EcoSalon

Trigger Warning: That Happened

Sexual Assault: Victims No More

Legitimate Rape: Shutting It Down

Image: Robert Couse-Baker

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It is physically impossible to stay angry in the face of kittens. Violence is not the solution to life’s problem. A calm, zen-like approach is best for extremely frustrating moments. Good thing we have kittens.

Now all that being said, sometimes you still just want to scream, punch, and kick your problems away. So for anyone looking to exorcise her aggressions within the confines of a safe, lawsuit-proof arena, may we present Uma Thurman and Daryl Hannah in Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill: Vol. 2. Check out these two adversaries of equal skill and strength working off some serious vengeance issues.

Kill Bill: Vol. 1 and Kill Bill: Vol. 2 are an homage to the spaghetti western. But Tarantino does not intend his epic to be read as a manifesto of feminine violence. “This movie does not take place in the universe that we live in,” said Tarantino of the films. “In this world women are not the weaker sex. They have exactly the same predatory hunting instincts as the men, the same drive to kill or be killed.” No word on how much predatory hunting the Los Angeles director does in his day-to-day life, nor is it clear how he can speak towards the inner drives of women.

Rather, this fight between Thurman and Hannah is as appealing as any cinematic clash would be, male or female. Modern femininity isn’t defined by how many diapers you can change in a day, or how closely your lipstick shade matches your nails. It’s defined by women handling themselves as they see fit.

In this case, Thurman’s Beatrix Kiddo is avenging the death of her fiancé, friends, and (she thinks) unborn child. Yes, it involves an unfortunate use of a spittoon. Yes, it’s not practical or well-thought-out to run around attacking your enemies with a Hanzo sword. And yes, this kind of fighting can only be tolerated between equally-proficient partners. But it’s satisfying to see two women handling themselves. Even if they exist in a universe not intended for our own.

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Nope, not like in the innocent ’50s and ’60s when the biggest thing to fear was the Boogie Man and The Blob. Not even like the ’70s, when middle class parents let their brood stay out on bikes in the ‘burbs until dark.

But was it really safer back then? If you buy into recent statistics, kids are actually as safe or safer now. A recent study by CCRC (Crimes Against Children Research Center) tells us sexual assault, bullying and other violence against children went down substantially between 2003 and 2008. Crime against grown ups is down too, although no one is quite sure why. Though experts are baffled and cannot put a finger on it, they can assert that media coverage is distorting our reality.

News programming must fill time. Thus, the media has a feeding frenzy with random acts of horror – Columbine bully revenge, abuse cases, molestation, neglect and the recent Tuscon, Arizona shooting spree that killed six people, including 9-year-old Christina-Taylor Green. As someone who has worked for a 24-hour news network, I can tell you the goal is brainstorming as many angles as possible.

The images we are bombarded with create a chilling effect, aptly addressed in the book Free- Range Kids by syndicated columnist, Lenore Skenazy. She preaches that walking kids home from bus stops and forcing them indoors out of fear of imminent stranger danger is not only harmful to their psyches but does nothing to protect them from the most common offenders – people the kids know and trust. Instead of draconian sex offender registries, she says we are ahead of the game when we train children to protect themselves.

“David Finkelhor, the head of CCRC, reminds us that by constantly focusing on strangers, we are looking in the wrong direction,” Skenazy tells me. “If you want to keep kids safe, teach them starting at age three to discern good and bad touches, that they don’t have to do something an adult says if it feels weird or creepy, and that you won’t be mad if they tell you that something happened.”

Skenazy shared in her book about letting her own 10-year-old ride the Long Island Rail by himself, and took flack from observers like Dr. Laura – the same kind of bad mommy flack Ayelet Waldman took for confessing she loved her husband more than her kids, or Amy Chua for her recent Tiger Mom tales of raising highly restricted yet successful Chinese kids. But Skenazy sticks to her guns, insisting the crime rate today is equal to what it was back in 1970 and it is a bigger danger to strip children of freedom to roam the range.

“If you were a child in the ’70s or the ’80s and were allowed to go visit your friend down the block, or ride your bike to the library, or play in the park without your parents accompanying you, your children are no less safe than you were,” she says. “But it feels so completely different, and we’re told that it’s completely different, and frankly, when I tell people that it’s the same, nobody believes me. We’re living in really safe times, and it’s hard to believe.”

So hard to believe, the author and blogger says her book isn’t selling as well as one that might hype stranger danger and the abductions and killings that might result. In terms of hyping, she points to the recent boom in baby snatching hysteria over the hospital crime involving a North Carolina woman who turned herself in after taking a baby from a New York hospital more than two decades ago.

“Now there are specials on television telling us how to protect ourselves from this terrible fate and what galls me is the fact some four million babies are born in hospitals and one is taken, so the tips they are giving us are erroneous,” complains Skenazy. “CNN keeps harping on the fact babies are usually taken when mothers are in the bathroom, but there is no usually. As a result, new mothers – no matter how tired or weak they are – must grab the baby into the bathroom, otherwise they are not being a good mom and protecting their child.”

The safeguarding now extends to the internet which is considered by many to be the most threatening modern day crime spot for minors, one that literally brings pornographers and predators into our homes. Schools too, try to take a bite out of slime by offering internet safety as part of parent education, reacting to programs like the Today Show which told us danger lurks just click away.

Does it mean the filters we install just aren’t working, or is it that, just as in the mall or at the bus stop, kids must be taught how to ignore the weirdos who cross their path?

“With increased access to and depth of the virtual world, the potential dangers change rather than getting simply safer or not,” points out David Abusch-Magder, head of Middle School at Brandeis Hillel Day School in San Francisco. “No one is going to get run over by a computer or shot by a stray bullet coming from the computer, so it’s really about educating and working with students to build a common vocabulary to understand the dangers and to monitor their use.”

Skenazy insists the web is just another avenue used by society to make children deathly afraid of all strangers, while the reality is the web is no different from other public places where informed kids should know how to avoid being taken in by someone they don’t know.

“Studies show the places kids are in danger on the web are the equivalent of the red light districts in real life, sexually oriented chat rooms and you are putting yourself in a comprising place by going there,” says Skenazy. “Just X out or ignore the freaks. I tell my kids the same things as in real life -you can talk to people but you can’t go with anyone you meet; you can give someone directions but you never go with them in their car.”

Our kids are also in danger when they ride with us in our cars – in fact, car crashes are the number one way kids are killed in the United States. But as Skenazy points out, we don’t go through paroxysms of self doubt when we drive them to the dentist.

“The fear becomes a template of all of our parenting,” she says. “The danger may be remote but we are bad parents, incredibly negligent if now protecting them every second of the day. That is what makes us crazy about letting our kids do anything.”

In fact, the Blessing of the Skinned Knee theory argues not coddling kids and giving them more freedom early on allows them to function once they flee the nest, something past generations enjoyed much more than our own children. There will always be crime but we can believe the statistics on random incidents of violence and overcome our template of fear. By doing so, our kids might be able to tell their own children stories about hanging out at the neighborhood park and riding bikes until dark.

Images: Cia de Foto, Jezblog

The post Are the Kids Alright in 2011? Not if You Buy into the Hype appeared first on EcoSalon.

The crustiest U.S. Marshall ever to step foot in the Indian Nations is rounded up to aid a willful 14-year-old girl seeking to hunt down and punish her father’s killer. A repressed and stammering soon-to-be king is rescued by an eccentric speech therapist who refuses to bow down to the royal and becomes his BFF. And in the virtual wild west of social networking, a Harvard misfit and his geek cohorts execute an online scheme for profiling and hooking up with cool chicks – an idea “borrowed” from hulking twin brothers on the Crimson’s crew team.

The bonding, wrangling and retribution underlying this year’s Oscar contenders – The King’s Speech, True Grit and The Social Network – all strike a familial chord with male film goers who grow tired of a bucket of popcorn with compassionate mothers, wedding tales and child loss grief – common fodder of book club faves spun into celluloid. While I shudder to use the phrase dick flick – which is arguably as sexist and minimizing as chick flick – it just might fit the bill, especially when you toss in an Irish American fighter saga with a Rocky-rise and feckless half brother in need of extreme rehab.

Christian Bale already took the Golden Globe for his stunning performance as the weaker half of the Mickey Ward story, while bets are on Colin Firth over the ripped Wahlberg in the best actor title. As George VI, Firth also displayed how containing one’s temper yields tremendous results, and was crowned with the gold for his role.

Manly, yes, these yarns, but I like them too, and with the exception of violence, torture, rattlesnakes lurking in caves, severed limbs and blatant child neglect, the testosterone pulsating through the veins of these films doesn’t make them any less entertaining, or even enjoyable, for most women. It is the vulnerability revealed in the exceptional performances that strikes a chord.

We want our men to open up and get it out, as Firth’s “Bertie” eventually does with the gentle nudging of his loving wife and the tactical prodding of Geoffrey Rush’s Lionel Logue. We fantasize about our daughters having the uncanny resources exhibited by Hailee Steinfeld’s Mattie Ross when confronted with the worse elements roaming the planet – those that threaten to bring physical harm to the innocent. She isn’t dependent on males but finds it works better to interact and do business with them on her rough and tumble journey.

And while the domain of billionaire achievers in the entrepreneurial tech field has largely existed as an exclusive man’s club, we look for inroads while tapping the benefits of social networks to further our professional and personal lives. We may not come to love the founder of Facebook but we are grateful to have reconnected with our friends from junior high.

What allows these films to cross the genders in appeal is they don’t smack of the usual gratuitous violence that makes past Coen brother films too gross for comfort, the Fargo credo of a mucked kidnapping and slaughter of a North Dakota housewife – senseless murder deconstructed as black humor deemed as genius. In 1991, when Silence of the Lambs was crowned best picture, many of my women friends threw their hands up in total disgust. Sure, the suspense in the psychological thriller mounted to an edge-of-your-seat crescendo, but it didn’t negate the fact the basic plot surrounded the serial torture and killing of women.

In the Coens’ remake of True Grit, the female protagonist is empowered on cartoonist proportions, yet empowered nonetheless, and like Clarice Starling, she perseveres when finally confronted with the devil in the flesh. We are able to root for her throughout the film without being exposed to horrific scenes that haunt us when we are alone and hear things going bump in the night. This is what separates Grit from the maiming scenes of Quentin Terantino’s Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction or the gut wrenching bloodshed in Oliver Stone’s Platoon or Natural Born Killers.

In terms of The King’s Speech, it is the tender, feminine side of these men that eventually comes to define their lifelong friendship, the stripping of the egos and the trust that allows us to be vulnerable enough to grow and to be loved. While the performances of the British cast are perhaps the most Oscar worthy of any of the contenders, I wonder if the subtleties of the film’s message are powerful enough to win over the academy – one that has embraced past winners: The Hurt Locker, Slumdog Millionaire, No Country for Old Men, The Departed, Unforgiven, Bravehart, The Departed and Gladiator in recent years.

If Speech walks away empty handed (Firth was the only winner at the Globes), I for one will be left asking if the film could have benefited by a riveting dueling scene among the princes, a raping or beating of a chambermaid or visuals depicting the starvation the prince claimed to have suffered under the watch of a sadistic nanny.

Should Grit or Social Network, other good films, take the big prize, it will validate something I have felt for years, that vulnerability in men is a much harder thing to reward than corruption and violence, at least in Hollywood. It’s a shame because in the end, discipline and diplomacy over cheating, scheming and brawn will reign supreme in ensuring the survival of the species.

Images: True Grit; KingSpeech; The Social Network; The fighter

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ColumnYou care because you’re awake.

When it comes to Big Issues and Serious Problems and Matters of Cultural Import, I’m more what you’d call crust than cupcake. So in sitting down to bang out a fresh column, the opportunities for righteous ranting were everywhere I looked. For example, last Thursday I learned there’s a whole happy movement around a woman whose contribution to food culture is Semi-Homemade recipe products made from processed and packaged ingredients that are, apparently, fabulous. And that she’s being hailed as the next Martha Stewart (not to mention the next first lady of New York). Friday morning I learned of a woman, Barbara Reich, who makes $150 per hour – and she’s booked – to help affluent families organize their stuff into stuff boxes with stuff labeled instead of stuff piles just lying around on top of stuff. We learn that she’s helped her own family sort their Crazy Bands into the appropriately orderly clusters, e.g. “Animals”, “Sports”, “Rare”. Crazy Bands commentary alone could fill an iPad app.

And then Saturday happened. A deeply disturbed young man opened fire on U.S. Representative Gabrielle Giffords and dozens of others at a political gathering in Tuscon, Arizona. Six are dead, 14 are wounded and Giffords is in stable but critical condition after being shot at near-point blank range with a semiautomatic weapon. The media frenzy and Twitter stream since have exploded in everything from grief to fresh debate about issues such as terrorism and gun control and bigotry – to Sarah Palin caught in her own crosshairs, so to speak. The incident is tragic, yet for many, it was inevitable. There’s blame, and counter-blame, and accusations of politicizing, and whining about accusations, too. What if the shooter had been Muslim? What if the political affiliations were reversed?

About those issues. Gun control, mental illness, violent rhetoric in politics, the environment, immigration, bigotry and above all an unconscious rage: it’s all before us, encapsulated in one sickening, surreal and yet unsurprising event in a grocery store parking lot. Dismayed as I was over the all-but-instant – with a side of gleeful – Palin slamming on Twitter over the weekend, the heaping of attitude doesn’t undermine the valid and painful point. We have steeped ourselves in a culture of violence so that we’ve almost forgotten the bitterness of the taste.

It’s not just political jargon or the fact that parents will take children to see an action flick but dither over a nipple. It’s not just pain porn and casual misogyny. It’s not just police abuse and the highest industrialized rate of adult incarceration. It’s that our leadership believes, wholeheartedly, that violence can solve problems – that it can solve anything at all. It’s that so much of our leadership is terrified to confront what we may dread in a conscious way. So many quaking cocks of the walk.

And of course, we react to pain in predictable ways: inflicting pain right back, numbing ourselves, erecting vast and expensive theaters to aggression and security with 24/7 ticker tape showtimes.

We all have a library of pop wisdom picked up as impressionable children. I remember watching the ’94 Olympics where Dan Jansen finally won his gold. In the obligatory fawning profile piece, he recounted his struggles with anger and how he finally learned, with the help of his therapist, not to sweat the small stuff. He gave his favorite practical example: not getting so worked up at other drivers, even when they cut you off. I wasn’t anywhere near driving age but somehow that stuck in my mind. So, thanks Dan, I’m not a road rage babe. Rush Limbaugh, of all people, drove one thing into my young mind that sticks to this day (yes, I grew up in a Republican home, and no, Mr. Limbaugh didn’t succeed with much else): “Words mean things.” Well. Rush is right. Words mean things. And I hope we’ll take a long look at our words and what they’re saying about us.

Despite all of this, I don’t share the bleak views of some. I don’t think our culture is jumping the proverbial shark, in spite of the success of The Jersey Shore and the excitement about only partly homemade foods and wacky rubber bands. We have terrifying problems, yes. We’re standing at the crumbling edge of global warming devastation, still unsure if we should turn back. We’re involved in expensive, protracted, ugly exploits and wars around the globe. Economic uncertainty and basic security still tease us through the fog. And yet: You care. You care because you are awake, and your heart aches.

There is a beautiful line from the African music group Tinariwen’s song, Assouf: “What can I do with this eternal longing?”

You can do a lot.

This is the second in your editor’s new column for 2011, The Insider’s Guide to Life, exploring topics such as media, culture, sex, politics, and style. If she’s got the strength for it, there will be more to come. Cheers and spellcheck!

Image: lil_miss_wit

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