In the wake of the latest school shooting—who can even keep track of which one it is by the time you’re reading this—I found myself engulfed in a deep sense of outrage. A whirlwind of emotions surged within me: disgust, fear, helplessness, and an overwhelming anger that was new to me.
Determined to transform this anger into something constructive, I encouraged my peers to join me in addressing the ongoing debate about guns and mental health. Unfortunately, my efforts largely fell on deaf ears, intensifying my frustration. My anger shifted from elected officials to the many indifferent citizens around me. “Why doesn’t anyone care enough to take action?” I would wonder, perplexed.
As I observed those around me seemingly continuing with their lives as if the violence was a distant memory—believing it wouldn’t happen again—I felt a personal connection to the issue. Each time I encountered someone defending firearms or disengaging from the conversation, it felt as though they were dismissing the value of my children’s lives.
I took a hard look at my social circle and questioned why my friends of color didn’t appear as vocally upset as I was. Given that Black children are ten times more likely to fall victim to gun violence than their white counterparts, I felt confused. But as I pondered my own question, the answer became clear, and I felt a pang of embarrassment for only just now feeling this anger. My friends have been expressing their outrage about gun violence for years.
It wasn’t until the threat reached schools like the ones my children attend that I finally felt the urgency. I realized that, subconsciously, I had compartmentalized the deaths of Black youth into a “sad, but…” category in my mind: “Sad, but I lack all the facts to take a stand,” or “Sad, but they were involved in risky activities.” This realization stung. It became evident that my previous indifference stemmed from a place of white privilege, as I had never had to worry about my children being targets of gun violence due to their race.
I don’t have all the answers to the complexities surrounding gun violence. Every proposed solution seems to bring up more questions. This isn’t a call to action or a plea for change; rather, it’s a personal acknowledgment of my white privilege in discussions about gun violence, especially considering my newfound vocal stance on this epidemic. I owe an apology to my peers of color for my silence while you have cried out for relief from gun violence.
I sincerely apologize for taking so long to feel this angry.
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In summary, this piece reflects on the delayed outrage regarding gun violence, acknowledging personal biases and the impact of privilege, and extends an apology to those who have long been affected by this issue.