What Safe Spaces Are Like

Diving directly into the fiery belly of the Far-Left Beast

Milo Yiannopoulos speaking at the University of Pittsburgh, February 29, 2016
Having followed far-left uprisings on college campuses across the U.S. for quite some time now, I decided to get a closer look. The opportunity arrived when conservative speaker Milo Yiannopoulos came to the University of Pittsburgh last year to give a talk on feminism, campus rape culture, and social liberties. Like rapid fire many students got caught up in a fervorous upheaval of condemnation towards him. Not a moment went by that their heads didn’t spin, nor their blood didn’t boil.
Soon after the talk, a post popped up on my Facebook News Feed saying there was going to be a safe space get-together for those negatively affected by Milo, to discuss their feelings regarding the event. I’ve heard about these safe space meetings before but felt they were somewhat of an urban legend, given their rampant ludicrousness. Somewhat like the superstition that saying I’m With Her in the mirror three time magically conjures the ghostly form of Hillary Clinton. Although, weirder things have happened.
Editorial cartoon by Rick McKee, The Augusta Chronicle, 2015
 
On the night of the anticipated meeting I walked into an elevator with other college-aged students. Most were trendy, hipsterish, all looking normal enough except for one person—a very tall man with a 5 o’clock shadow and legs so hairy even the burliest of hatchet-wielding manly men might suggest that a trim was in order. Was this ol’ chap wearing a t-shirt and jeans? Or possibly a flannel and khakis? No way. Out of the question for somebody of his character. He wore a dress.
 
Stunning. Absolutely stunning.
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Getting off the elevator I walked into the meeting room. Scanning the room to get a feel for how things were going to go I noticed that this was no small crowd, consisting of approximately 20 people. More trickled in after it began—several being of the trans-gendered variety.
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The group leader called for everyone’s attention. First on the agenda: she motioned we go around the room, individually announcing our name and preferred gender pronoun(s). When it was my turn I said, “Hey, my name is Charles and I prefer to be called a man.”
 
Well, this did not hold up nicely. The room piecemeal developed into an awkward silence. They were nothing short of shocked. To paraphrase, the group leader informed me of my mistake by advising that I “did not answer the question properly. It is more appropriate to use the pronouns such as they, her, she, he, him, zir, ze . . . ” Her answer curried Gender Studies nerd-type chuckles out of a few who seemed cleansed by such a response.
 
After these introductions we were given time to discuss our feelings about the Milo event. It was easy to conclude that they all were under the same umbrella of thought. Everybody that spoke expressed an emotional concoction of anger, sorrow, confusion, and an inundated sense of displeasure that the world world had left xem or xyr down.
 
They felt Milo brought an array of hateful thoughts and behaviors and spread them like a virus among the student body. The students did not understand what Milo had to say, so they came out on the other end with a very distorted opinion of him. They had just heard somebody opine an opposing opinion to theirs and couldn’t process it psychologically or emotionally. Short-circuiting in a fit of apoplexy, many had difficulty verbally expressing their feelings with any kind of coherence. Most of the meeting consisted of dead air and failed attempts grasping for reason. A nothingness of expression that appropriately paralleled their amount of knowledge about politics in general.
 
Snowflakes gather at Princeton University, 2015, to demand the removal of the name of former school president and U.S. President Woodrow Wilson from programs and buildings over what they said was his racist legacy. (AP Photo/Julio Cortez)

As the engines of their minds roared, sputtered, and eventually overheated, I awaited what I thought was going to be the most marvelous display of human planning this world has ever seen. Sadly, as the meeting continued, I was left empty-handed. Shortly after the meeting commenced, the group became sidetracked by the elephant in the room—their own personal problems. 

They actually spoke more about campus mental health support services than anything to do with Milo. Mental health was the topic the students clung dearly to the most, which did not surprise me. A bunch of young social justice types who get together to talk about their feelings in a safe space are concerned over mental health? Who ever would have guessed?
 
It was like they were playing a round of the age-old highly competitive game: Who Is The Biggest Victim? I almost expected those lovable kids to receive (rather than earn) a participation trophy for their faux-struggles. In the end I deduced that the meeting I attended was more of a feel-good therapy session for softies trying to make their campus free of anything triggering than it was anything else.
 
For more political analyses from Charles visit frontrowreview.com and follow @realFrontRow
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