Trigger warnings, like so much in life, began with the best of intentions but quickly devolved into the absurd. First used in online discussions of sexual violence, they expanded exponentially and now include warnings about everything from racism to classism, as well as books such as The Great Gatsby and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. This isn’t merely amusing. These warnings have real-world consequences. Rather than risk censure, some professors are simply eliminating any sensitive material from the classroom.

I am not reflexively opposed to trigger warnings. They are, as I said, well-intentioned, designed to prevent harm by allowing someone to “emotionally prepare” before being exposed to material that might reactivate a past trauma. Again, it sounds good. If I had, say, been brutally attacked by a Doberman as a child, I’d like to know if my new next-door neighbors own a large dog, especially if it happens to be a Doberman. But a growing body of evidence strongly suggests trigger warnings don’t work — and, in fact, do more harm than good.

In the latest study, published in the journal Memory, some 200 participants were asked to recall a negative event that took place within the past two weeks. They were then separated into two groups: one which was warned that this negative memory task would be distressing, and one which was not given a warning. All the participants were then asked to recall the negative event again.

The results are sobering. The group that was given a trigger warning were no less disturbed by the bad memory. In fact, by one measure, they were more upset than the non-triggered group. This suggests, the researchers say, that the warnings “hampered the healing nature of time.” Even more troubling, the study found that imagining a trigger warning was “just as anxiety provoking as imagining encountering trauma-related content.” In other words, thinking of a trigger warning was itself triggering. What’s going on?

It’s really quite simple. Trigger warnings are only helpful if the recipient is able to muster helpful coping strategies. I might, for instance, do a breathing exercise before encountering a Doberman. or be sure to keep my distance. Most trigger warnings don’t provide such coping techniques. Oftentimes it is not pain itself that causes suffering but the anticipation of pain. Trigger warnings heighten that anticipatory anxiety yet do nothing ameliorate the actual pain.

Another problem with trigger warnings is that they “reinforce survivors’ view of their trauma as central to their identity,” one study found. This is troubling, since people who view trauma as a core part of their identity have worse symptoms than those who do not. In other words, trigger warnings did the exact opposite of that they were intended to do. Rather than protect victims from flashbacks to their original trauma, they make it more likely that victims will re experience pain.

It’s time to replace the silly, and dangerous, proliferation of trigger warnings with something far more useful: skills that enable us to become trigger proof.

The ancient philosophy of Stoicism provides some helpful ways of thinking about trigger warnings. Much of life lies beyond our control, the Stoics say, but we command what matters most: our opinions, impulses, desires, and aversions. Our mental and emotional life. We all possess Herculean strength, superhero powers, but it is the power to master our interior world that matters the most. Do this, the Stoics say, and you will be “invincible.”

Too often we place our happiness in the hands of others: a tyrannical boss, a mercurial friend, our Instagram followers. The great Stoic teacher Epictetus, a former slave, likens our predicament to self-imposed bondage. Only the person who wants nothing is free.

Imagine, says Epictetus, you handed over your body to a stranger on the street. Absurd, right? Yet that’s what we do with our mind every day. We cede our sovereignty to others, allowing them to colonize our mind. We need to evict them. Now. It’s not so difficult. It is far easier to change ourselves than to change the world.

This is the problem with trigger warnings. They reinforce the presumption that college students are unable to control their reactions to an insult or potentially disturbing material. It disempowers them. It is not the Stoic way. So what are we to do? Drop all trigger warnings?

Not necessarily, but I think they should be reserved for truly disturbing material and not mildly offensive. More important, we should shift the focus from the trigger to the person triggered. Give them real coping skills for dealing with disturbing material rather than attempting to completely insulate them from such shocks. That’s impossible anyway. I’m going to encounter dogs in my life, and even a few Dobermans. Is it helpful for you to warn me that you own Dobermans? Perhaps, but it is more helpful if you — or better yet a trained mental health professional — provide me with specific coping strategies for the next time I encounter a Doberman. Trying to ensure I avoid such triggers is counterproductive. It only reinforces my victim identity.

It’s time to replace the silly, and dangerous, proliferation of trigger warnings with something far more useful: skills that enable us to become trigger proof.