Sandy Hook Elementary School, Newtown, Conn., Dec. 2012: 26 killed.
Robb Elementary School, Uvalde, Texas, May 24, 2022: 21 killed.
Marjory Stoneman Douglas, Parkland, Florida, Feb. 14, 2018: 17 killed
Allen Mall Shooting, Allen, Texas, May 6, 2023: 8 killed, 7 injured
February 12th, Monday morning, I walked downstairs with the everyday rant about going to school and all the endless work I’d have for the day. As I make my way down, I stare at the headlines being broadcast for the breaking news story.
“Suspect legally purchased rifle used in Lakewood Church shooting,” HPD says.
The word “shooting” didn’t mean much as I had just become so used to seeing the word pass by at the bottom of each news presentation but as I saw the name “Lakewood Church”, my stomach dropped. I turned to my mom and her face stood blank, but her eyes said it all.
This was the church that we would pass by whenever we went into the city. I would stare out the window each time we drove past it, amazed by its size. Everyone in the city knew of Lakewood and even though I never actually attended the church, seeing the news headline struck a moment of fear.
It was too close to home.
I spent most of my younger years oblivious to the effects many of the shootings in America had on my mother. I never understood why she would buy concert seats closest to the aisle or why she would take the long way and drive around until she found a parking spot nearest to an exit.
When I was living in Florida, until about age eight, I would always ask my mother to go to this parking lot fair. At first, she always tried to avoid the conversation, but she eventually agreed to let me go on Sunday mornings only.
What was so important about Sundays?
Sundays were the days all the kids who needed their hands held by their parents would go. The day that parents hoped would be more “child friendly,” but I knew what that really meant.
Recently I visited Florida to spend time with cousins and family, the same weekend the fair was happening. The night that we heard of the Lakewood shooting, I asked my mother if I could go to the carnival with my cousins without specifying the day.
She hesitated and asked, “Why are you trying to go to that if you know about what just happened?” I had no answer.
There’s no harm in going to a carnival with cousins on a Saturday night, right?
That night I sat in my bed and realized what looming fear really meant to me and those I loved most. It was the fear of not knowing if I would make it home from a trip to the mall with friends or a Sunday service with my parents and little brother.
That fear I felt is something that society has been forced to instill in moments that are meant to feel liberating.
A few months ago Nico, my four-year-old brother, had his first boxing class. He was the youngest student in the group. 30 minutes of the lesson passed and the instructor called for a water break. A few moments later, a loud exploding noise rang through the room.
“BANG, BANG, BANG”!
My mom and I watched as all the kids ran to the nearest exit or hid behind a hitting bag. I locked eyes with the instructor, my face filled with confusion and terror. He then explained that the students are taught an “active shooter drill” and practice it at each class meeting.
The oldest student was ten years old.
Letting that day sink in was extremely difficult. The ride home was quiet and no one knew where to start. I thought about each time I had taken Nico to a play gym or park. Would he ever need to use that drill? Would he be too young to really understand what was going on?
Later that night, me and Nico watched a few episodes of the Ninja Turtles in my room. My mom came in around 9:30 teary-eyed with a puffy face but a warm smile on her face. She lay in bed and held us close for an hour.
She didn’t need to say much, the moment said it all.
As she held me, I realized why we would go to fairs when there was only daylight and few people. Why she would buy concert tickets closest to the aisle in case we needed to quickly leave for an emergency? Why she would park the car closest to the store because she never knew if we would hear shots and screams across the mall.
I never thought that killings happening across the country would affect the way I choose to exist. Our society now lives in a cycle of questions with no answer. We feel the damages of others’ choices but yet choose to disregard them.
The scariest part: the cycle feels endless.
