Years ago, a graduate school teacher assigned my class a project that centered around learning by pushing through comfort zones. Each student was to put themselves in an immersive situation where they felt like the odd ones out. They would report back about what they learned and how their attitudes or understanding shifted in the process.
When I saw a neon orange billboard for a gun show coming to town, I knew where I was going. Not quite brave enough to go alone, I enlisted my dad, and as we pulled into the fairgrounds, I couldn’t have felt more out of place. Everyone looked so easy going as they sauntered toward the entrance, as if being surrounded by people enthusiastically sporting deadly weapons was nothing.
As we walked in I had a bit of a freeze response when I saw the immense array of guns. There were long rows of booths with vendors selling anything and everything to do with weaponry. Hand guns, rifles, hunting gear, pink purses with holsters, brass knuckles, hunting knives, machetes, samurai swords, grenades, targets in the form of people, and packets of red ooze, made to splatter like blood when shot.
There was a gun insurance booth that promised to get you off of any charge of shooting a gun. “We’ve never lost a case,” the salesperson boasted. “Go get your gun, and then come back here.” Then the NRA table with their free publication that featured an evil-Hillary portrait on the cover. She’s coming after your guns!!!! And loads of other inflammatory bullshit.
When I neared a man selling assault weapons, he pointed out the semi automatics, “These are the ones liberals love to cry about.” “Why’s that?” I asked. “Ahh… who knows.” He explained that the AR15 was great for ladies because of how easy it was to hold and shoot the gun. Plus there were multiple bullets that came out each time you would pull the trigger. “Why would you want that? That seems like it’d be more expensive,” I asked him, trying to act easy breezy, even as I felt shaky inside. He shrugged and explained that it was kinda more fun.
As we walked around, we saw all sorts of scarily interesting stuff. Loads of signage against liberals, tons of “take it out of my cold, dead hands” and defend-the-2nd messaging. There was an assortment of camo and pro-gun apparel, an array of gun shaped lapel pins and cufflinks, and bedazzled Jesus fish and stylized crosses on just about everything you can imagine. We tried hard to avoid eye contact with a gun club representative that looked like he could just erupt with mad-at-the-world rage at any moment.
In all of this, perhaps the most jaw-dropping moment for me was when I saw a cute little 9ish-year-old boy run up and exclaim, “Whoaaaa! I want this one!!!” He was literally jumping up and down with excitement. That innocent wide-eyed look of Christmas-morning amazement was pointed at a semi automatic gun.
It reminded me of my own childhood reaction to an awesome pair of cleats or World Cup version of soccer ball. That feeling of, this is so cool, and I bet I’d be such a badass if I had it. And then I kind of got it. I could relate to the emotional ties and cultural identification with a sport and its equipment. To a little pocket of the world that seems to just get what makes you tick.
I saw how someone like this child might not understand how something that was tangled with feelings of joy for him is something that causes pain and fear to others. How he might think that someone who tries to malign his pastime just doesn’t understand it.
But as he grew up, I’d expect he would encounter information, people, and experiences that challenge that reality. That boy I saw at the gun show is probably voting age by now. In his time at the shooting range or out hunting with his dad, did he ever see someone with a gun that frightened him? I wonder what he thought as he did active shooter drills, or as he heard news about school shootings.
It seems like it would take some real work to reconcile these dangers with the love of his sport. Some real numbness to not hear the pleas for help from kids his own age, in places not so far away. He’d have to develop some really narrow tunnel vision to avoid seeing the bigger, societal picture of harm done with the weapons like the one his dad so adoringly gave to him.
Then again, it’d probably take a lot of courage for him to change course.
To go against his family’s political views, to side with the liberals he’d grown up seeing with literal targets on their faces, or to recognize himself as part of a terrible problem. To weed out the hate embedded in all that gun culture when it’s tangled with love and togetherness that he experienced because of it.
I don’t ask that every gun enthusiast come around to the realization that gun policy reform is necessary. I don’t expect them to willingly wander out of their comfort zone to see the world from another perspective that is unfamiliar and perhaps offensive to them. That’s too hard, and it takes too much bravery, especially from a group that is cowering behind tactical walls.
What I ask is that the rest of us don’t have to live in their distorted reality.
I ask that we don’t have to walk around and pretend that guns aren’t the problem, or that restrictions on high ammunition guns wouldn’t curtail gun violence. I ask to be in a place where news of mass shootings is not commonplace, and where half of the country doesn’t shrug their shoulders and say “That’s a shame. Thoughts and prayers,” when one happens. I want a life where we are not on guard at schools, churches, grocery stores, concerts, movie theaters, public protests, festivals, and election certifications. Bracing for the next unhinged riled up gun owner to unleash his misplaced fury on innocent bystanders.
These are reasonable demands.
Including the current all-weapons-for-anyone situation, I can’t imagine a scenario in which those in the American pro-gun culture would feel comfortable. When we reform gun policy, its diehard enthusiasts will never feel at ease. But our kids in their classrooms just might.
Let’s demand that our government enact common sense gun laws so that we can breathe easier, and let the other side grow through a new, less conflicted discomfort.
With love and hope for the future,
Stephanie
What is your experience with gun culture?
What does reasonable gun reform look like to you?
This is one of the best articles I've seen on this topic. It takes a lot of moral fortitude to stand up. My father - one of the most manly, super athletic, masters of pelvic sorcery and all things testosterone I've ever known - was taken hunting by his dad when he was eight. Dad just couldn't shoot a beautiful, harmless bird for sport. Granddad called him a sissy until his death from cirrhosis 10 years later. Dad became the "man of the family" supporting his mom and younger brother until my uncle graduated from college.
Dad went in the navy and graduated under the GI Bill. I suspect he did a lot of macho stuff in his life to orove his dad wrong. Thank you!
I am a die hard liberal, academic, and citizen of a purple state although where I live locally it’s very, very red. Guns were never part of my life until my partner and I went to a resort that had a shooting range and we thought, why not? Let’s try it. So we did some skeet shooting with shotguns and guess what? It was “a blast” (pun intended) and also my partner was really, really good (prior army training). We decided that shooting sports would be something fun we could do together, so we bought 2 shotguns and joined the local shooting club. It opened up a whole new activity for me and I met a few great people. We never, and I mean NEVER talk politics. Lately, however, I’ve gotten a little more hesitant to visit the club because our personae and car are coded, “liberal.” And I get a little nervous now that polarization has grown so, even since 2020 when we first
joined the club.
On the other hand, it is also weird being one of the outliers—a Democrat who owns a gun. I’ve had a few conversations where other liberal folks were taken aback. It’s like everything’s fine until I mention I like to shoot skeet and own a gun. Instantly, I’m suspect in their eyes. They cannot quite accept that I actually have the same beliefs and values they have, with the exception that I like to shoot at little clay “birds.”