I am tired. Weary. Exhuausted. Wiped. Burned out. Skin
tired. Down-to-the-gristle-and-bone tired.
And yet—
*
Let’s talk politics. Because, you know, it’s a thing I like
to do from time to time. And yes, let’s talk guns. Because, you know, it’s
uncomfortable for a lot of people. And I like to do that from time to time:
talk about the discomfort of things and the things that cause discomfort. What
I don’t understand is why. Why the discomfort? I mean, of course, I get it:
people have their thoughts, their positions, their opinions and stances on
guns. And they vary. As do the solutions to such a triggering (heh heh) topic.
It’s not as simple as “let’s own guns” to “let’s ban them entirely”. If you’ve
got some critical thinking skills, you know there are nuances. What I don’t
understand is this reluctance to even talk
about it.
From newscasts after the Las Vegas mass shooting: It’s not appropriate to talk about gun
control right now. Now’s not the time. Uh, really? If not now, then when?
Trevor Noah has great commentary on this.
But I will be honest: I myself have a hard time talking
about guns and gun laws. And I’m puzzled by this.
I grew up learning how to shoot a gun. Issues of Guns and Ammo magazine were all over my
house. Occasionally, I would go trap shooting with my dad and my younger brother
on weekends (Just to watch. Because I wasn’t big enough to handle a shotgun*);
my mom would be no part of it. I would listen to conversations between my dad
and brother about which guns were the best, which ones were the coolest, which
guns were appropriate for certain situations. I have this hazy memory that my
dad might have purchased a Saturday Night Special on my behalf (“For protection.”
Of course.). It was never in my possession but I might have seen it. I can’t
quite remember. And there was always the heat in my dad’s tone of voice when
politics would cross the dinner table: the latest news on gun laws would come
up and my dad would steam about how They couldn’t take away his Right To Bear
Arms. Because, really, that’s why he came to America in the first place, not
the dictatorship that he fled (I say this in jest. But sometimes I really
wonder…). As a kid, I could only agree. What else did I know?
*
I’ll admit that I really really wanted to shoot a shotgun,
to know what it felt like. To hold it with my entire torso, arms wrapped around
it. To load it with a pump of the fore-end. To squeeze the trigger and feel the
force of the kickback. I’d probably close my eyes, bracing myself – which is
totally NOT advised! But yeah. I wanted to know what that felt like.
What’s funny is that I wasn’t interested in the clay pigeon
I was supposed to be aiming at. Thinking about it now, maybe there’s something
satisfying about seeing it break apart, hearing the smash of it. But I was more
interested in the feel of cold metal kicked against my chest. Is that what
power feels like?
As a woman of color who must fight for any kind of power to
be heard or seen, I am interested in exploring various methods of acquiring
power. Are guns part of this exploration?
I have a clear recollection of this specific scene in Terminator 2 where Linda Hamilton’s
character, Sarah Connor—all buffed up—is injured and she can only load her
shotgun with one arm. She holds the fore-arm with her good side and jacks up
the gun over her shoulder to load it. Repeatedly. For me, that was an
incredible display of fierce feminist strength and I wanted that.
*
I’m the minority in my family. This includes, not just my
own parents and siblings, but my in-law family as well as my husband, who I
classify as moderate, slightly right of center.
In my mind, I feel one-hundred-percent clear on my position
on guns: we don’t need them. Quite frankly, why do they even exist? (You want
to hunt? Try good old bow and arrows.) I told my students the other day:
arguments, gripes, and the like should be settled with fistfights. One should
be forced to know what it feels like
to inflict harm upon another human being, to feel one’s knuckles on the skin,
muscle, and bone of another’s face or arm or torso. And yes, there are those
who are not of sound mind who might indeed take delight in this, but at the
very least, there is no instantaneous theft of life. Of course, there are other
things that come into play with this solution that do not work (eg. big burly
man beats down a waify girl. Or a buff Linda Hamilton kicks the shit out of
some wisp of a meek villain. Heh.), but my point is that there is actual work
required to inflict harm. A gun requires no work. It is easy. It is instant.
I told my students: people who want to inflict harm will
finds ways to do it, legal or not.
Beyond this, I find myself uneasy, unsettled, and maybe
floundering a little.
What about
self-defense? This is the main argument for the good old Second Amendment.
And this is where it gets hazy, where my mind gets muddy.
One of my students said that he feels safer knowing that
there’s a gun in his house and that he can protect himself and his mom. Protect
himself from whom?
What if someone were
to break into your house and that someone had a gun? I do not want to meet
violence with more violence. I don’t even want the potential of me bringing
violence as a solution. Take my money, my jewelry, if you want. It’s just
stuff.
What if someone with a
gun were to break into your house with the intent to cause harm? What did I
do that would make someone target me in that way? That they would specifically
come to my house to do that? If this happens, I have bigger problems than
whether or not I own and possess a gun.
What if someone with a
gun were to come to your house and try to harm your kids? Would my having a
gun solve that problem? I don’t know. I used to watch a lot of tv shows and
movies. And you know that cliché scene where the kid is being held at gunpoint
and the hero is an amazing shot. The hero successfully kills the villain,
saving the kid who is physically unharmed. Is that the scene I’m supposed to
imagine myself in? There’s a real possibility that I might end up harming my
own kid before saving or in order to save her. So what do you do in that
situation of your kid being held a gunpoint? Is having a gun the answer? I
don’t know.
But here’s the thing: what are the chances this scenario
will happen? Versus a gun accident. (Yeah, yeah. Settle down, NRA folks. I know
all about gun safety. But even with all the safety you teach, why are kids
still getting shot and killed accidentally? You can teach safety. Practicing it
is an entirely different thing.) I’d rather take my chances on not possessing a
gun. (My dad would be displeased to hear this. “Have I taught you nothing??”)
*
I don’t know what the answers are. And maybe there isn’t a
single solution. Maybe it’s a bunch of solutions that are ever evolving.
One of my students told the class that Australia banned guns
altogether. Read here for a brief overview that was published a few days ago.
And yes, American gun culture is, well, a strange thing. I
don’t know how to explain it to people outside of this country. The obsession.
The unwillingness to have an actual conversation about saving lives by working
towards prevention of lost lives (how messed up is that statement? Think about
it: we need to prevent the loss of lives in order to save them. Is it me or
does that sound backwards?) I still can’t believe (and yet I can) that nothing
of significance has been done since the Sandy Hook shootings when children CHILDREN!
were massacred. Then again, this is typical for a country that was built on the
genocide of Native Americans and the enslavement of Africans stolen from their
homes. We’re a messed up country that has been, for a long time, in need of
some serious therapy. Know any good psychotherapists?
And I haven’t even mentioned race and class yet. You know
those factors weigh heavily on the issue of guns and ownership and laws. Two
words for you: Philando Castile.
I’m not saying anything new. I didn’t start writing this
with the intention of making some new discovery or making some profound
statement. I am only trying to start a conversation. To talk about it in the
open. To make friends with my discomfort in talking about guns. To explore the
contradictions I hold within me: I want to practice pacifism, to demonstrate
love towards everyone, no matter who you are, no matter how terrible you might
seem to be. I want to try to be like Jesus (yeah, I said it.). But at the same
time, part of me wants to hold a gun. (“That’s my girl” I hear my dad’s voice
in my head.) Not to kill anyone, but to know what it feels like to wield power.
Because really, that’s what guns do: they make people feel powerful.
So how do we extend love and power at the same time? How do
we demonstrate that both can be achieved without guns, without violence?
I have no idea. But we need to start talking about it more
boldly. Enough of this timidity. We need to start somewhere. And from there, DO
something about it.
No comments:
Post a Comment