It turns out smutty, romantic dramas are my thing. While anxiously awaiting the next Heated Rivalry book and season two, I started Off Campus – filmed at my own university, UBC. Before even pressing play, social media had already done its job. One post promised it would “fill the horny hockey show hole in your heart.” It did.

Despite its mostly straight cast (boo), I was completely pulled in. I laughed, cried, and finished the series with that familiar post-binge ache. At one point, watching on a plane beside my wife – with tear-filled eyes and a pile of tissues – she asked what was making me cry. When I really thought about it, the answer surprised me: not the violence (or romance) but how people responded to its disclosure.

Unlike many shows, Off Campus avoids graphic portrayals of violence. Instead, it focuses on social reactions to violence, and their impact. As a violence researcher and clinician, I saw a strikingly accurate depiction of both helpful and harmful reactions to disclosure of violence, and how deeply they shape survivors’ experiences.

Hannah and Garrett, the two main characters, are both survivors of trauma and struggle to disclose. Consistent with Sarah Ullman’s extensive research on society’s response to survivors, the show captures the full spectrum: emotional support and tangible aid, alongside blame and unsupportive acknowledgment. Hannah describes being disbelieved and blamed, harm that extends to her family and becomes internalized. In a powerful moment, she apologizes to her mother for the fallout, only to be met with clear, loving rejection of that blame: “You were a high school kid who had a drink at a party […] You have nothing to be sorry about.”

Garrett’s responses are both filled with care and further harm. He reassures Hannah she isn’t broken and normalizes her experience; yet later he assaults her perpetrator, an act often framed as protective, but demonstrated in both research and ‘Off Campus’ as harmful. This reaction recenters his feelings, forcing Hannah to manage his distress and reinforcing her self-blame. The consequences he faces only deepen her fear of disclosure, “Every time I tell someone the truth it fucks things up, it ruins people’s lives’ and it happened again.”

In contrast, Hannah’s friend Allie models a profoundly healing response, “I always knew. I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.” She respects Hannah’s timing, resists centering herself, and affirms her complexity, “You aren’t just one thing. You are everything.” She offers support without pressure, and hope without urgency, “The words will come when they come.”

By the end, they do. Hannah writes “Girl That I Am,” capturing both harm and resilience: “The sharpest knives are whispered harsh opinions” and “I am the girl that I am because of what I went through.”

Off Campus doesn’t just tell a love story, it offers a nuanced, emotionally honest portrayal of how social reactions can wound or heal after trauma.

Below are a list of healing responses to disclosure of trauma, from survivors’ voices:

• Listen and be there.
• Validate survivors’ feelings.
• Believe survivors.
• Treat survivors as you normally would.
• Don’t pressure details or actions.
• Show empathy.
• Provide resources.

If you need support, Salal’s 24-Hour Crisis & Information Line is here for you. Get support now at 604-255-6344 (Lower Mainland) or 1-877-392-7583 (Toll Free Canada-Wide).