A few short days ago, I fumingly wrote a piece about my fear of sexual assault. Countless trials and cases led me to pen a brief commentary on the Stanford rape survivor, and I received many positive responses from my loyal readers. Blogging has taken a backseat lately with numerous life changes such as graduating, starting a new job, moving, and investing time in new relationships and friendships. Yet, I found myself driven by enough anger and fear that writing is just about all I can do right now to express my current frustrations.
On Sunday morning, I groggily awoke in Cincinnati after an exciting Saturday of baseball and beverages, stumbled down to the hotel’s continental breakfast, and sat across from my boyfriend as we recapped the weekend’s events. Family reunions were wrapping up across the hotel lobby with hugs all around and goodbyes to relatives echoing throughout the atrium. We packed up the car, eager to get back home, but dreading the monotonous drive we had just made less than a day ago. It wasn’t until we reached the interstate exit for Lexington that I let my Spotify playlist shuffle itself and checked Twitter to see what weekend FOMO I could acquire. The first tweet read, “Sobbing.” The next – “At least 50 dead in mass shooting.” As I scrolled breathlessly, the events that had taken place over night in Orlando unfolded before my eyes.
Last week, I said I was scared of becoming the victim of sexual assault. Now I am afraid to leave my house. The incident in Orlando proves we are not safe.
We are not safe in our elementary schools.
We are not safe in our high schools.
We are not safe in our universities.
We are not safe in our movie theaters.
We are not safe in our churches.
We are not safe in our pride celebrations.
We are not safe in our political rallies.
We are not safe in our clubs and parties.
We are not safe in our nation.
We spend a not insignificant amount of time fixated on the safety and infrastructure of other nations, yet we have failed our own people to guarantee their safety and wellbeing. Since I began college in the fall of 2012, there have been 998 mass shootings in the United States. We are no better than the nations we wage wars against.
Call these crimes what you will, but here are what they have stemmed from:
Homophobia
Misconceptions about masculinity
Radically religious and fundamentalist mentalities
Availability of guns
Social isolation
Narcissism
False entitlement
Bullying and humiliation tactics
Entertainment and media portrayals of violence
Lack of access to mental healthcare and self-care strategies
Mass shootings are examples of domestic terrorism which we should prepare for and prosecute as such. Changes to our current gun policy must happen. I’ve grown up my entire life around guns, shot a handful, and never questioned my family members’ or significant others’ interests in them. Pulling the trigger is still an unfamiliar sensation, one I couldn’t imagine growing accustomed to. We have put ourselves in a position that allows mass shootings to not only continue, but worsen. I respect the United States Constitution, the Second Amendment, and the notion of freedom we’ve come to enjoy. We are doing a disservice, however, to our citizens and our children by failing to test the impact of stricter gun control. If you were standing in the theater in Aurora, Colorado, the classroom in Sandy Hook Elementary, Pulse Nightclub in Orlando, or on campus at UC Santa Barbara when an individual opened fire on unknowing and undeserving individuals, you too would begin to question the role of guns in our society.
I am overwhelmed by social media in the hours since the shooting in Orlando. I am proud and humbled by the respected and well-known individuals commenting on the tragedy and offering support and assistance to victims and their families. I likewise applaud my friends on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram who have publicly stood in solidarity with the victims, their identities, and policymakers advocating change. I have witnessed several friends I know openly and publicly discuss their sexuality for the first time. In 2016, this is bravery. Still, I am conversely appalled at the number of intolerable comments, bigoted discussions, and outright hate that I’ve seen strewn across the internet. Social media and the internet are platforms for robust conversation within which you are free to speak your mind. I choose to write on this blog instead of directly on Facebook because I know I have a lot to say on the issue and other controversial topics. Still, I intend to respect all potential readers and frame my opinion in ways that call to action, but simultaneously are sensitive to various identities and experiences.
Driving to work this morning, radio talk shows almost exclusively provided coverage on what has transpired since the shooting. Two comments frustrated me most. The first comment was a listener’s response to the radio hosts’ tribute to the victims in Orlando and call for peace and positivity on the morning commute. The listener commented that our nation had become ‘soft’ in our actions to defend and in regard to homeland security, and that we needed to be angrier and take a firmer stance on defense. Firmness and consistency are necessities, but, in my life, anger has often bred violence. If we can channel our ‘anger’ and frustrations into law and policy changes that better protect our citizens, we are not ‘soft’, but mature in our actions, and reflect development and progress.
The second comment referenced Jimmy Fallon’s sincere and sensitive tribute last night to victims in which he expressed that tolerance is essential. I no longer believe mere tolerance will suffice. When it comes to religious beliefs and various identities that may conflict with your own, we have to do better than tolerance. Tolerance is not acceptance. By choosing to disregard people and entire communities for their identities or convictions, you are part of the problem. By turning the other cheek and ignoring the discrimination still taking place in our nation, you are part of the problem. By honoring Muhammad Ali’s death then disparagingly associating violence with Islam, you are part of the problem. By staying passive because the violence isn’t in your own backyard, you are part of the problem. By saying “I don’t think it’s right, but I have a gay friend”, you are part of the problem. We are a nation built on contradictions and meant to be a collection of bright ideas and various voices. Everyone should be equally valued, accepted, and appreciated until they sacrifice that right by acting in violence towards another person. If Facebook is your platform, do your part. If writing to a policymaker is your platform, do your part. If walking the streets in solidarity is your platform, do your part.
I know too many people hurting right now, and I too am afraid. I’m afraid to be an ally, I’m afraid to attend rallies, go to pride festivals, for my blog to be become successful in case someone doesn’t like what I have to say and acts upon it. I know we cannot live in fear, but I’ve arrived at this feeling after too many events have threatened my safety and the safety of many I love. Violent has become a descriptor of my generation and of our culture. We must be and do better than this, as individuals and as a nation.
“The constitution’s a mess // So it needs amendments // It’s full of contradictions // So is independence // We studied and we fought and we killed // For the notion of a nation we now get to build // For once in your life, take a stand with pride // I don’t understand how you stand to the side” – Non-Stop, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Hamilton
