We have got to do better, for the sake of love and for each other

From D.W.: Back in late August of last year I posted some of Rachel’s writing about gun violence in this country and noted that I was only posting a small collection of her writing on the topic because there would inevitably be need for more. And here we are.

The attempted shooting by a gunman at the White House Correspondent’s Dinner is terrible. Unequivocally. But it’s far from unique. There have been twenty-one deaths and fifty-four injuries over fourteen mass shooting in just the week prior to the WHCD. Of course, none of those were targeted at people in power, so who cares, right?

We’re broken. And maybe it’s not repairable. I hope that’s not true, but I’m at a loss for how to end this nightmare of our own creation when staying in this restless slumber seems to be more attractive than actually waking up. More valuable than the lives of our children, our neighbors, ourselves.

And don’t worry, there’s plenty more of Rachel’s thoughts on the matter where these came from.

Facebook. May 25th. 2022

Ok, fine. Let’s talk about mental illness.

Maybe we can begin with our unhealthy relationship to guns and violence.

Or maybe we can talk about early intervention for at risk children, or children who are bullied or are bullies.

Or maybe we can talk about how hard it is to find an affordable therapist, even with insurance.

Or we could talk about how adult brains aren’t fully formed until 26, and how adverse childhood experiences can wreck growing brains.

How does that work for you?

Facebook. September 15th. 2023

Ok, so this is gonna be spicy. Some of you will want to skip this. And it may also really grind your gears. But please, stick with me. I know it’s something we’d rather not deal with, for several reasons. But here’s the tea: We have too damn many guns in the US. We have the capacity to better regulate this but lack the will.

Meanwhile, we are just walking around hoping to Jesus or the Higher Power of our choice that we don’t end up in a body bag or on the damn news because some other child of God got their hands on a lethal weapon and used it as such. This has to stop. And there are about a thousand different ways to do it.

I grew up around guns. I understand gun culture. I have had firearm safety training and was raised by people who took that deadly seriously. I learned that a gun can only do one thing—kill. Sure, other tools can be used as weapons—knives, rocks, a car, a cast iron skillet, a knitting needle, a hypodermic needle, rope, the list goes on—but a gun only has one job.

And if you point a gun at something, you better be prepared for whatever is on the business end to be dead when you are done. Do y’all get that? Or have we blown our minds so far out of our heads with theory and virtual reality and pedantic devotion to founders who couldn’t possibly have understood the evolutions of weaponry we currently deal with or the sheer number of people who exist in this republic that we just have lost the plot entirely?

This morning, one of my soul friends got the text from her educator husband no one ever wants to get. “Another lockdown. Not a drill. Love you.” The lockdown turned out to be a response to a social media hoax. But that didn’t matter at the time. Everyone in that school and everyone who received a text from them during that time truly believed they might die today. Do you remember what school was like—how hard it was on a regular day? Think back and imagine how hard so many of our teachers and staff worked for us, put up with our shit, navigated admin and parents and helping to raise us. They don’t get combat pay. They are just regular people doing their jobs. Should those of us not engaged in first response or military vocations just go ahead and assume we’re gonna get shot at every time we leave the house? That takes a toll on us. It does not improve the situation or encourage us to learn to love each other.

This last weekend, I took one of my godbabies to see their first club show. It was daytime and a super tame crowd. But I reinforced with them multiple times that we needed to make sure we knew where all the exits were, including the one closest to us. I hovered just behind them the whole 90 minutes, ready to yank the collar of their shirt and run, checking our six every 45 seconds until we were back safe in the parking lot. They had the time of their young life. I was so wrecked from hyper vigilance that Aunt Crazy had to take a three hour coma nap when she got home. That is the world we live in, and it does not have to be this way.

I don’t have any magic theories on how to fix this. But I do know that if thoughts and prayers don’t lead us into deeper conversations and concrete actions, we are probably doing it wrong. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to engage in what-if’s or what-abouts. I just want us to stop and actually examine what is going on, admit that this is not a healthy situation for any of us, and find as many ways as possible for us to get better, do better, and be better together. We have got to do better, for the sake of love and for each other.

This week was very weird. I’m sending oceans of love and peace your way, my darlings. Hang in there.

Love,

Rachie