Essay: A Generation Numb to Tragedy
On the morning of my 13th birthday, my friends and I were popping balloons in the hotel room my mom got for my party near Centennial, CO. One after one, we stomped on them, popped them with our butts and bit them with our teeth. Then my mom told us to hold off on the balloon popping. I was usually the kid to question why, but I could tell from her tone it was not the time. We put the balloons away.
On July 20, 2012 a gunman opened fire inside an Aurora movie theatre killing 12 people. Twelve people who would never have another birthday.
One day, during my freshman year of high school, I skipped my lunch period to finish some photography homework. I was halfway through framing my photo when we were put on a lockout, meaning no one could leave or enter the building. We didn’t know why, until someone in the photography room yelled, “There was a shooting!”
On December 14, 2013, a gunman shot one of his classmates at Arapahoe High School. Claire Davis died eight days later from her injuries. Claire would never receive her high school diploma.
Yesterday, my phone blew up with messages from friends and family, asking if I was okay. People I hadn’t thought about in years texted to ask if I was safe. I knew a shooting had occurred, but I thought it was nothing—no fatalities reported, no emergency warning from CU—it wasn’t a big deal. But text after text, my anxiety increased, as I began to piece together this was worse than I had originally thought.
On March 22, 2021 a gunman entered a King Soopers only minutes from where I got to school and killed ten people. Ten people who lived so close to me, but who I will never meet.
There are other memories I have, of crying in bed after waking up to news of the Las Vegas shooting, of feeling helpless at the Columbine memorial, of not understanding how someone could murder second graders. Like my peers, my childhood and young adult life has been scarred by mass murders in my state.
I can’t even imagine a time when people wouldn’t sit facing the exit, or not plan their escape route in every building they enter or feel completely comfortable at the sight of a man in a dark trench coat. Being born into a generation marked by frequent shootings has forever altered how I live my life. I keep a running tally in my head of where I need to be on high alert: concerts, theatres, crowds, school and now the grocery store. I even know how to make a tourniquet out of whatever is around.
I felt empty as I read the news about the Boulder shooting. There was no anger, no sadness, no feeling. I broke down when I heard the names of the deceased on Tuesday, March 23, over 12 hours after the shooting. Kids my age were killed running errands, killed because someone else decided they should, killed because another person used a gun to solve their problems. I don’t know why it was that moment I finally cried. Part of me knew I needed some sort of release and forced it out. The other part was relieved to not know any of the victims. There was a high chance I could have: maybe I passed them on campus every day, maybe we got boba at the same time on Fridays, maybe we said “hi” when we passed each other on a trail. But I didn’t know them and now I never will get the chance to.
This shooting comes only six days after another 21-year-old gunman shot and killed eight people in Atlanta, GA on March 16, 2021. What was the largest mass killing in a year is now a forgotten memory as another takes its place. And don’t think Boulder won’t be forgotten when the next shooting comes. And it will come.
Without effective gun control laws, the 10 people killed inside King Soopers will not be the last. The NRA continues to pull the strings among many members of Congress, among members of the public. The Second Amendment has such a strong hold on some people’s opinions that I’m beginning to think it’s more important than the First. From what I know of The Founding, the Second Amendment was made so Americans could freely fight the British and protect their homes, not to murder each other in the streets.
Just a few days ago, Boulder had to overturn a ban on assault weapons because a judge said cities must follow state gun laws. Even CU Boulder, along with all other Colorado public universities and colleges, allow people to carry concealed weapons by state law. Students should be able to attend class without looking over their shoulder every minute to see if their classmates carry a gun.
I’m tired. I’m tired of scanning the room for weapons. I’m tired of posting photos and statistics to my Instagram story. I’m tired of telling people to vote. I’m tired of calling my representatives and signing petitions. I’m tired of people dying. I’m tired of thinking I could be next.
I didn’t graduate high school without having to evacuate for a bomb threat and being locked down for multiple gun related incidents in the area. Now I won’t graduate college without my city suffering a mass shooting. For the sake of my heart and humanity, I hope this never happens again, but the realist in me will continue to look over my shoulder and face the exit.
The United States needs to wake up. Forget your political party and your campaign funds and get a grip on reality. I’m sick of reminding myself to run in a zig-zag line and sick of looking for something I can use to break a window. Stop sending your thoughts and prayers. I want change. I want to stay alive.
