In the wake of yet another tragic school shooting — and who knows how many more will occur by the time you read this — I find myself overwhelmed with a deep, simmering rage. This anger is unlike anything I’ve felt before, a volatile mix of disgust, fear, helplessness, and raw fury.
In an attempt to channel this intense emotion into a constructive outlet, I reached out to my peers, urging them to engage in discussions about the gun control versus mental health debate. Unfortunately, my calls for action largely fell on deaf ears, which only fueled my frustration. My anger shifted from elected officials to the many indifferent citizens around me. “Why doesn’t anyone care enough to take a stand?!” I would exclaim in disbelief.
As I looked around, it seemed as if people were going about their daily lives, unaffected by the ongoing violence, as if they genuinely believed it wouldn’t happen again. Suddenly, this issue became intensely personal. For every person I encountered defending gun rights or avoiding conversations about the topic, I felt as if they were dismissing the value of my children’s lives.
I began to reflect on my relationships and questioned why many of my friends from diverse backgrounds weren’t as vocally outraged as I was. After all, communities of color have been disproportionately affected by gun violence, with Black children being ten times more likely to die from it than their white counterparts. Upon examining my own question, I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me — I realized I was only now waking up to this crisis. My friends of color have been angry about gun violence for years.
Until this moment, their cries for help hadn’t resonated with me at the core of my being — my children were not directly threatened. When I learned about the tragic deaths of Black youths due to gun violence, I often tucked it away in a compartment labeled “sad, but…”: “Sad, but I don’t have all the information to form an educated opinion.” “Sad, but they might have been involved in risky behaviors.” “Sad, but my kids are thankfully insulated from that danger.”
It pains me to confront this reality, but I believe it’s crucial to contribute to the current dialogue on gun violence in America. I can no longer ignore the fact that my own outrage was filtered through the lens of white privilege. I’ve never had to worry about my children being targeted because of their skin color. It took the alarming rise of gun violence in schools similar to my children’s for me to finally feel this sense of outrage.
While I don’t have definitive answers to the escalating problem of gun violence, it seems that every proposed solution only brings about more questions and complexities. My intention isn’t to sway your opinion or push for change. This isn’t about martyrdom or guilt-tripping anyone; it’s about acknowledging my white privilege in relation to gun violence and publicly apologizing to my peers of color. I’ve remained silent for too long while you’ve begged for action against gun violence.
I sincerely apologize for taking this long to truly feel this anger.
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Summary:
In this reflective piece, Mia Thompson expresses her anger and frustration over the ongoing issue of gun violence, especially in the context of school shootings. She explores her feelings of white privilege and acknowledges her delayed outrage while urging others to engage in the conversation about the impact of gun violence on marginalized communities. The piece serves as a heartfelt apology and a call to action for greater awareness and responsibility.