They tell us not to live in fear, but why shouldn’t we? Nobody expects to be shot to death
going to a parade. Or a mall. Or a bar. Or a supermarket. Or a church. Or a school. Or a movie
theater. Or a concert. Or a club. Or a house party. Or a festival. Or a graduation. Or anywhere
that should be deemed “safe.” They tell us that their thoughts and prayers are with everyone
involved, but are they really? How much do they think about the lives taken, and the ones
forever broken? How much do they care about the fear that lives deep in the belly of my
generation when we walk onto a school campus? How much do they care that we must form
escape plans everywhere we go—even just to get groceries? How much do they care that a
generation whose “coming of age” was stunted by a global pandemic has also come of age
alongside the normalization of mass shootings?
Do they remember when it felt like the world stood still in shock when a mass shooting
happened in America? I do.
I remember watching the TV in disbelief as I watched people run for their lives from a
movie theater. It took me years to go into one after that. Even now, my first thought upon
entering is how will I get away if a shooter were to enter. I was 11.
I remember where I was when I realized I was not guaranteed to be safe from being shot
to death at school--something that had never occurred to me. I was 11. The kids that were
murdered were half my age.
I remember where I was when I learned that nightclubs and bars were targets, too. I was
15.
I remember I was still in a fog after my father’s sudden death when I heard that seventeen
kids around my age had been shot to death in a school. I was 17. And I was at school.
I remember so many more devastating mass shootings growing up (what a bizarre
sentence). What I don’t remember is feeling safe in public. I always have a knot in my stomach
knowing that it could be then and there when it becomes my turn. When I will become just a
statistic that will be presented on deaf ears regarding better gun safety measures. When I will be
the subject of these thoughts and prayers that seem to fade so quickly to pivot to the next mass
shooting victims. When I will be shown so briefly on the news, nobody would remember. I say
when, and not if because I do live in the fear we’re told not to. Except I think it’s more of a
realization that I am no different than the people who woke up excited to go to a parade. Or a
mall. Or a bar. Or a supermarket. Or a church. Or a school. Or a movie theater. Or a concert. Or a
club. Or a house party. Or a festival. Or a graduation. Or anywhere that should be deemed “safe.”
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