I made the thirteen hour drive up to New York a few months ago. My sister and cousins were almost done with school and they wanted to spend the summer in the North Carolina mountains. They looked forward to swimming in waterfalls and going in caves and hiking near (but not too near!) cliffs.
As we left for the long drive home, I worried. I had a fifteen year old, an eleven year old, a ten year old, and an eight year old - all crammed into my Subaru. A wonderful car and spacious enough for me, but we're talking about little girls constrained in their seats for over thirteen hours. I prepared for an exhausting drive. There were a few squabbles but we were okay.
Halfway through the trip I surprised myself by *shudder* waking them up from a nap. I'm the oldest of eight - I know you never wake sleeping children. Especially if some of them are cranky preteens. Especially on a long drive. But the sky was beautiful. The clouds behind the mountains were breathtaking, and I wanted them to see that kind of thing.
"Girls, wake up. Look at the sky, it's so pretty! Look at the clouds!"
The eight year old - about the spunkiest, funniest child you will ever meet - looked at the clouds, looked at me, cocked her eyebrow, and asked, "Look at the clouds?"
"Yes! Look at them! They're amazing!"
And then, in her very best (aka natural) NY accent, "Why? What, are they talkin' to ya?"
Little shit.
I mention this story because it's the kind of thing I want to hold on to for later.
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By now everyone knows about the most recent shooting, the one in which a journalist and a cameraman were killed while they were filming a live interview. The one in which the killer recorded his crime and posted the video on his social media accounts.
I'm horrified, and I think most people are horrified, but.... it's not surprising. When these things happen (all the time), I'm devastated and angry and not at all surprised. It's a terrible thing.
My friend Joe and I were talking earlier. He's got a beautiful baby nephew and it kills him that this boy is growing up in a world where massacres are commonplace. (His brother wrote a poignant piece here.) It's overwhelming.
I can't help but agree. My youngest sibling is six. She's a first grader now. The next, Tommy, is eight. Normally I'd just worry about them running in a backyard where there are pointy sticks. But nearly three years ago a man walked into an elementary school and killed twenty small children. Parenting is scary enough. Being around kids is scary enough. They're adventurous and clumsy - two things that don't mix well! Shooting sprees should not have to be on any parent's radar. Even if, God willing, these kids are never in physical danger during a shooting - how do you try and talk about the world? It's not just the physical harm, it's the weight. Kids think the world is magic. How do you look them in the eyes when something like this happens and assure them that yes, the world is good? How do we convince ourselves?
Joe told me this morning that he's scared of having kids in this world. I am too. And every friend I've asked feels the same.
I think it's important to mention this: I have black friends and cousins who have felt like this much longer than I've had to. When a black boy was killed (I don't remember who it was - that seems crass, but given the situation of rampant killings of black people, I can't soften it with words) and there was national outcry, a friend of mine wrote that she was scared of motherhood. Black kids are killed far too often - why have a baby, why raise a son just for him to be shot by vigilantes or police? Two of my cousins have black babies - one boy and two girls - I don't know how they handle the grief, the knowledge that their kids are at risk every time they walk down the street.
The struggle is felt differently by some of us and we need to acknowledge it. We're all intertwined and we need each other if we're going to change this world.
Even without the extra burden felt by people with kids in their lives, it's scary. I'm nervous when I go to the movies - never used to be, but I am now. We can't go to the mall, to work, or even to church without fearing for our lives. Literally, our lives are at stake.
I don't have a solution. Although I'd like to put forward a few thoughts:
- The right to live is more important than the right to kill
- It's appalling that the massacre at Sandy Hook wasn't the last straw.
- Unlike other things people use as weapons, guns are made specifically for killing people. That's their purpose. We shouldn't ignore it.
- Arming more people will almost definitely lead to more deaths, not less.
Of course, I think changes need to happen on a national scale. But for ourselves and especially for le bebes who are still sweet and innocent and whose perceptions of the world haven't been shattered, there are other things I try to do.
Like point out the fucking pretty clouds.
It's terrifying, because society has essentially deemed these shootings acceptable. The amount of people who want to cling to guns instead of just having a discussion is astounding. So we try and see the beauty in the world, we try and teach kids (and remind ourselves) that every person is a precious gift. But that can end in a second, and it's okay because..... our guns. Don't touch our guns. And worse, don't even talk about our guns.
But honestly, I think it's important to keep fighting the good fight anyway.
My buddy Paul (who we jokingly refer to as the big brother I never wanted) recently was attacked on the internet because he suggested the life of a criminal was worth something. A man in NY shot at two officers who were apprehending him (they are okay, thank God) and they shot back, killing him. As the media was vilifying this man's whole life, Paul simply said that this man had value - not justifying his actions, just stating the plain truth that a man is more than just his mistakes. And people were pissed.
I personally love Paul a little more for it. What his remarks boil down to is the absolute truth that every person has intrinsic moral worth.
I don't know what I'm getting at other than I think a good way to cope with and fight against such a senselessly violent world is to love other people.
Look at how some of the presidential candidates talk about immigrants. These are influential men who are using their power to dehumanize millions of people. Donald Trump has called immigrants "unwanted people." He's made them out to be monsters, and people believe him. For me, resisting this kind of thinking is important. When my eight year old cousin is devastated because she's heard about a man being beaten because he's Hispanic, I feel hopeless. But I can look at her and honestly tell her, "No, baby, this isn't normal and it isn't okay. That man and his life are precious and important."
When Osama bin Laden was killed, I was ecstatic. I celebrated. This sickens me now. Sure it might have been just, but the loss of life isn't something worth celebrating, ever. I know that now. How do we maintain that zeal for defending life in a country that loves war so much?
I want to always remind myself that everyone's life is valuable. That knowledge keeps me raw. I want my cousins and siblings to know that everyone has worth. I don't want to hide it when I'm devastated at the news of these shootings - I want them to see adults cry so that they know murder is not supposed to be a normal occurrence. When I have kids I want them to know that every day is a gift, that they should look at the clouds and climb trees and pick up rocks. I want them to know that even in a handful of dirt they're sure to find something beautiful. Hell, I want my adult friends to always remember all this.
Why? None of those things can take back the violence that's already happened. But when we appreciate just how meaningful everything and everyone around is, it's overwhelming. A good kind of overwhelming. But it's also life-changing. When you see those 11 million people as miracles, and precious brothers and sisters, the dehumanizing dialogue falls away. When you see a suspect in a picture flanked by his children instead of in an orange jumpsuit, you're not going to applaud his death.
My point is, I guess, that being mindful of all the people and beauty around us can soften hearts.
And maybe then we'd be less inclined to cling to our guns, and more inclined to build a better world for ourselves and our children.
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Charlotte
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