Unfortunately, I found the same student crying in distress against the back wall of the Swan during The Provoked Wife’s act two rape scene. The RSC’s promotional materials described Sir Brute’s character as a “tedious drunk,” evoking the classical image of a less merry Falstaff or less ribald Sir Toby Belch. But what we saw was a convincing portrayal of a belligerent, malicious alcoholic who staggered on stage before roughly throwing his wife on a table, bending her over, and ripping away her skirts. Performed hyper-realistically, the rape was shocking in its brutality, and the scene contrasted significantly with the playful theatricality that began the production. Writing for the Guardian, Michael Billington praised both Slinger’s performance and Breen’s direction of the scene that “rightly does nothing to soften Brute’s attempted rape of his wife” to realize this “unsparing portrait of a soured relationship.” Rightly or wrongly, the scene became unbearable for my student and myself to watch.
While I was conscious of my next action, I do not remember making the decision to stand, knowing only that the explicit violence had provoked my fury. Despite being fully visible to others on the front rail of the second level, I left my seat, wondering only briefly how I would explain myself to my students before finding one crying against the back wall. “Do you want to leave?” I asked, worrying less about my volume because their distress was now more important than interrupting the performance. They signaled “No, I’ll be okay,” but instead of returning to my seat, I kept walking to the exit.
Being triggered is more than merely being offended by content or feeling uncomfortable with ideas that contradict someone’s beliefs; it is a physiological response to external stimuli caused by past trauma, seemingly uncontrollable and often unpredictable.
I paced the lobby for a minute before the door opened again, and my student, still crying, joined me, followed by two other students. As an authority figure who had walked out of the theatre, I had given them permission to do the same. Knowing my own tears were imminent, I suggested that we go outside for some fresh air.
Current statistics suggest that at least one of the eight students I had brought to the performance is a survivor of sexual assault. But in that moment, I had three standing beside me, expressing, through a mix of anger and tears, that the performance had triggered some level of past trauma. To the RSC’s credit, when I approached the box office to return half of our tickets for that evening’s performance of Shrew—giving students the option to skip a second round of domestic abuse—they were incredibly accommodating.
Content Warnings and Triggered Responses
Had the RSC offered a content warning, I might have made different decisions about my students’ viewing experience. In his review of The Provoked Wife for Broadway World, Gary Naylor wondered “how long it will be before trigger warnings are required for works like these—it would be a sad day indeed, but I suspect it’s coming.” Naylor’s sadness over trigger warnings echoes many sentiments I have encountered recently, alongside grumblings about political correctness run amok and the regrettable coddling of the millennial generation. The increasing prevalence of trigger warnings in professional theatres is a trend, argued Michael Paulson in the New York Times, “bubbling up from college campuses.” But plenty of my colleagues who teach in theatre departments around the United States remain skeptical about their use.
Comments
The article is just the start of the conversation—we want to know what you think about this subject, too! HowlRound is a space for knowledge-sharing, and we welcome spirited, thoughtful, and on-topic dialogue. Find our full comments policy here
This recent Slate article by Shannon Palus adds an interesting perspective: research demonstrates that trigger warnings may not work, and may harm people who have experienced trauma. Worth the read on this issue, especially with the links to studies. https://slate.com/technology/2019/07/trigger-warnings-research-shows-they-dont-work-might-hurt.html?mc_cid=32c2a46a46&mc_eid=03ec46b72d
Thanks for commenting. Yes, Pauls presents an interesting perspective, and I certainly agree that we need to devote more resources to mental health care; the services on my campus cannot keep up with the student need, despite attempts to hire more staff and develop new wellness programs. But I wish the article dealt with trauma less abstractly, didn't conflate it as much with anxiety, and spent more time considering the idea that warnings mark "a space where your feelings and mental health needs are going to be respected and taken seriously."
Thank you for this great writing, and thank you for being willing to share this moment of vulnerability for you.
I'm a firm believer in content warnings for the very reasons you list: not to "spoil," but to warn for very specific needs. We now warn audiences about strobe lights and gun shots, because we recognize that those might have uncontrollably destructive effects on our audience members if they are not warned, so we can certainly learn to warn about very specific types of action that may cause an uncontrollable response in our audiences if not warned.
Also, I think it's important for those who are not into this evolution, who long for the "old days," to remember that it was a rare occasion for either an ancient Greek or an Elizabethan audience member to walk into a play that they didn't know the entire plot to already, so everything was already spoiled for them. They just wanted to how it would play out.
Thanks for commenting. This essay came about because I had assigned students to write about their experiences attending performances, and I wanted to model the same process during our travels; they were vulnerable in their responses, so I tried to match their vulnerability and generosity. Also, I love your point about "spoilers" being a relatively new expectation for theatre spectators.
I think I remember a print warning before we entered The Flea’s spring 2019 production of Thomas Bradshaw’s “Southern Promises.” As part of the story of living as slave, slave owner and liberal northerner, we in the audience got to know human beings trying to claim their humanity despite white assumptions that they are less than.
We also witnessed very graphic rapes by slave owners claiming to care about their slaves while entitled to use their bodies. The reasons for the warning. Not just the master of the house forcing himself on a woman he likes but also the seduction of a slave by the lady of the plantation who wants his servicing then verbally emasculates him like a dirty left over.
The actors and the director, The Flea’s artistic director Niegel smith gave us the raw reality of the story we were witnessing - no abstract decorative metaphor - raw need, the taking and the relief and satisfaction by one in the coupling, the desecration of the other. Subtly choreographed and always focused on the humanity of even the rapist as well as raped, but raw authenticity.
As I left the theater, my brain was going through the intellectual thoughts - artistically necessary? Care of actors? Lines between authenticity vs prurience? Audience reactions if past abuse, no matter which genders or what type of relationships were invoked? Any other artistic directions with power but not so in-your-face? Etc. etc.
As I walked into the night, I stopped the mental intellectualizations about slavery, liberal acquiescence and self/interest, artistic choices. Instead, I suddenly felt the power of the choice to show the most dehumanizing aspect of one human being and the full potential of a theater experience hit me:
I felt I had become apart of the slaves in the play. I was viscerally, physically disturbed as I experienced the feelings of characters - not just a witness but one of them. I haven’t read the playwrights stage directions to know his vision for these scenes but I do not think this deep level of identification could have infused into me with the same dialog if the director and actors had avoided the real events in the story with lighting, sound and visual abstractions.
When I returned to my 21st century New Yorker white self, I felt gratitude to the courageous but always respectful ability of director and actors to plunge us with raw authenticity into the life stories of the great/great grandparents of the African-Americans walking next to me into the subway.