An Open Letter To The University Of Chicago
The University of Chicago just sent out a letter to the incoming class of 2020 about how it doesn't care about their 'safe spaces', and 'trigger warnings'. This is my response as a current student.
An open letter to the University of Chicago.
***TRIGGER WARNING***: discussion of mental health issues, grief, death, sexual assault, abuse.
My name is Karley Rojas. I am a second year in the college, a double major in biological sciences with a concentration in neuroscience, and visual arts. I came to this university last year excited to learn and to push my limits. To pursue lines of discourse and inquiry that had previously been closed to me. It seemed like the perfect fit: my spirit of inquiry and the university most well known for its unconventional attitude towards knowledge and its pursuit. This was an opportunity I never thought I would have, being a poor minority.
For the most part, I have been satisfied with the classroom. Putting aside for a moment the glaring domination of western culture on the materials we are assigned, and the culture of the university itself being to test endurance of limits, both intellectual and physical, I learned more in that year than I have in any other period of time in my life. However, I did not come to this school with the privileges of many of my peers. This institution and my place here as a student is exceedingly personal; it is the only asset I have left with any iota of stability.
I cannot distance myself from many of the topics of conversation that occur here; I cannot limit my purview to theory alone. Sensitive topics have a way of pervading my life and not letting go. I came to this university with my mother on her deathbed. I was a first year in an environment that was a step toward adulthood for my peers, but I was quickly being pushed toward independence. I did not have the privilege of throwing myself into my work, of being able to solely focus on the spirit of work and this environment of overwhelming academia. Within my first quarter here, my mother had died, and I was a financially independent 19-year-old. This university became my only home, the only thing that was keeping me afloat.
I have objected to the environment surrounding mental health at this university through my entire residence here, but it is only recently that I am realizing the extent of how destructive this space is. It is personal, and I am not willing to discuss having a safe space only in theory, as it applies to how I function in every aspect of life. Having serious mental health issues is not new to me. I am a sexual assault survivor, an abuse survivor. I have experienced death and loss. I currently suffer from debilitating physical as well as mental issues, including depression, anxiety, and panic attacks. I do not have the privilege of categorizing the discussion of triggers to such severe episodes to theory. If a topic triggers a panic attack, they can become so severe that I lose consciousness. I have crippling anxiety that means I cannot leave my room for days at a time.
I am not asking for special accommodation in class. I am not asking for an avoidance of issues, as I believe that all things should be discussed, in one context or another. I simply ask for a warning. A simple line of text to say, “this subject matter may cause you severe distress.” That distress is not limited to fear as to the implications of a topic. That distress is not something I possess physical control over. This is the kind of distress that can make me vomit, lose consciousness, and in the correct environment, suffer episodes of vertigo. I would love to say, ‘I’ll just get over it, these topics are important to talk about.’ But it doesn’t work like that.
I should not have to qualify as to how content triggers. I should not have to qualify as to what I need for my mental and emotional health in a setting where I am supposed to be learning, in a healthy way. I should not have to explain to other people as to how the traumas of my past make it physically impossible for me to deal with certain topics unprepared. Frankly, it’s none of their goddamn business.
However, as a result of the discourse surrounding safe spaces and mental health at the University of Chicago, the administration and mentality of the privileged has resulted in the need to explain myself. I do not have a choice in the matter. It is not my job to explain privilege to the privileged. And yet that is an inherent quality of this system.
If I had received a letter from the university as an incoming first year, saying that safe spaces are not available on this campus, I would not have attended. With a mother dying at home, and an impending move halfway across the country, this is not within the acceptable limits of what my future university could have told me. I cannot express my disgust that the incoming class was told by the university itself that their mental health is not relevant; that their safety has been compromised before they have set foot on campus.
Safe spaces aren’t a luxury. They’re a necessity.
This is not theory. This is personal.
Trigger warnings and safe spaces aren’t to coddle. They are to allow individuals to feel secure, in a way as to not result in continuing trauma and distress. I don’t think that is too much to ask for from an institution to which each student pays over $50,000 a year.
-Karley Rojas
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