Trigger warning: The following article may prompt critical thinking, common sense, and a reconsideration of the need to treat adult children as if they were babies. It contains sarcasm, the words cigarette smoke, and unfiltered patriotism. Reader discretion is advised. If necessary, keep therapy animals standing by. If not, a cold shower and a copy of "Tom Sawyer" might suffice.
Once Upon a Time, We Had Backbones
Before America became a nation of emotional baggage, oversensitive people, and those who shriek at the slightest microaggression, our society was forged in furnaces, coal mines, farms, and ranches. Focus groups didn't cross oceans of water and prairies. Our pioneers stared down Redcoats, tamed the wilderness, and buried their children along the way.
Before TikTok activists went viral, our men and women fought for our freedom in mud-soaked trenches and steamy jungles with enough steely resolve to make online influencers faint.
I know most of you reading this don't need the history lesson. But for those who do, think about Valley Forge, Gettysburg, and Omaha Beach. Not a single person began those battles without reading the content warnings. No Marine paused at the shoreline, waiting to file a grievance about problematic noise levels or imagery.
The families living through the Dust Bowl didn't need flashing signs reading, "viewer discretion advised." They needed courage, the kind that doesn't ask for permission, doesn't search for safe places, and doesn't wrap itself in weighted blankets.
Americans, generations ago, had calluses on their hands and hearts because life was hard, not wrapped in bubble wrap. That hard living toughened them up to meet the challenges before them. They learned the lesson that life didn't owe them comfort; it owed them their effort.
Time moved forward to a point where that changed.
The Seeds of Sensitivity: From Woodstock to Warning Labels
The journey to softness wasn't immediate; it snuck up on me through the back window, wearing bell-bottoms, loving Lennon's lyrics, and singing in the mud at Woodstock.
Somewhere, along the line, generations began to mistake feelings for facts.
Like roads to Hell, it begins with good intentions; all bad revolutions have. Postwar generations worked to make their children's lives easier than their own, so everything started to appear more cushioned.
Threats of a spank after counting to three, followed by a few more counts, resulting in defiance. School grades changed, so nobody had hurt feelings or falling self-esteem. Youth sports stopped keeping score because, God forbid, little Johnny learns the feeling of defeat.
Our culture underwent a significant shift by the 1970s, coinciding with academia's embrace of "self-expression" over discipline. Truth lost over feelings. God bless the man, but even Mr. Rogers subtly rewired the language when saying, "You're special just being you."
As beautiful as that statement was, it became an escape hatch from the effort young people need to build self-worth. Instead, egos are inflated with helium and breathing won trophies.
President Reagan tried pulling us back on track when he called the Soviet Union what it was, an evil empire. The founder of SEAL Team Six, Richard Marcinko, embodied the grit of old-school patriots. Unfortunately, we found ourselves on a horse sitting too high.
When the 90s hit, a blurred line appeared between protection and paranoia.
Entering from stage left: trigger warnings.
The Birth of the Modern Snowflake
Our current digital sea began with a flood in the 2000s. With it, fragility became absolute. Everything was traumatizing to everybody: text messages, elections, comedy, historical statues, and basic biology.
Once upon a time, colleges were places for free inquiry, but they evolved into trauma clinics for the terminally offended. Terms such as microaggressions and trigger warnings appeared. A person's truth replaced the truth. Each syllabus presented trigger warnings, and guest speakers, especially conservative ones, came with protestors screaming for cancellation.
Americans didn't lose their edge, we tossed it away, and then started crying about the cut the paper gave our fragile skin.
Today, the United States is a country where disclaimers often precede entertainment, warning us that the following fictional characters may engage in unseemly behavior.
Five paragraphs are needed as an introduction before a character lights a cigarette. Heck, Peppa Pig probably will get flagged for reinforcing heteronormative porcine behavior.
It's infantilization disguised as enlightenment.
Warnings, Warnings Everywhere, And Not a Grit to Spare
Today, warnings are less about information and more about indoctrination, telling us, "You're not strong enough to handle this information," and stripping away any semblance of resilience.
The lessons are fear and fragility.
We have been warned about characters smoking in a movie, while our kids vape through algebra. Flashing lights move an average viewer closer to a state of collapse. Don't forget about these other warnings:
- Violence
- Strong language
- Stress
- Sadness
- Mature themes
- Weather
- Tension
- Life's reality
If we don't recover our senses in time, a trigger warning will be assigned to the Declaration of Independence, out of fear that it may offend monarchists.
As an American, I used to trust that people thought critically. Now? I don't trust one to watch old episodes of "Law & Order" without a parental advisory and an emotional support koala.
The Return of Calloused Skin
For each swing of momentum in one direction, another is coming back. Here's where my hope lies: that swinging pendulum.
Can't you feel it? People building homes, welding components, repairing their tractors, enjoying one pour of Buffalo Trace (neat, of course), and law enforcement and ICE agents are no longer apologizing for doing their jobs, and are doing them the right way.
We're finally seeing videos of everyday people growing tired of using deadnames or the wrong pronouns, and sharing their opinions with the poor soul who asks for it.
I'm tired of watching my country whimper along over imagined slights while real ones continue, unchecked.
We're not asking for a revolution; we're asking for reality.
Slowly, calluses are returning to the hands of young Marines, sailors, and soldiers. Mothers pulling double duty while homeschooling their children, operating on fumes. Thicker skin is appearing on the hands of people working ranches, mechanics, brick layers, and cops who didn't get the memo that being offensive is now a disability.
Legislation won't boost the next great American revival; people will bring it when people start ignoring the warnings, stop flinching, and look back at how we got here and say:
Never again.
Final Thoughts
America was never supposed to be a nation full of warning labels; we were a nation of warning shots.
Our Founders didn't issue a warning to the British. Instead, they triggered a revolution.
In his 1862 State of the Union address, President Lincoln didn't tell us to check our trauma before engaging. He said,
The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise with the occasion.
Yet here we are, still afraid of adjectives than adversaries.
But as John Snow well knows, the North Remembers, and so does America.
Buried beneath safe places, therapy sessions, and service moles lies muscle memory, grit, and resolve. We were people who walked into fire without using a guidebook.
That's coming back.
Here's a real trigger warning: Snowflake season is coming to an end. The forecast calls for blunt truth, hard-earned grit, and the comeback of thick American skin.
Sooner than later, I pray, along with the return of grit, we'll see a revival of character and integrity.
Brace yourselves. Or don't.
We're doing it anyway.
