A few weeks ago, while I was at the gym, I took a moment to catch my breath between sets during a grueling leg workout. Let’s be honest—it was tough because it was leg day. As I sipped from my water bottle, an unsettling thought crossed my mind: “If an active shooter entered this place, would I have a safe spot to hide? Where’s the nearest exit? Do I even know how to play dead?”
It’s a dark reality that has become all too common. I find myself preoccupied with such thoughts more frequently these days. It’s not that I’m a paranoid person; I’ve never been one to obsess over threats to my life. I’m all about adventure—whether it’s flying across the Atlantic, riding the wildest roller coasters, or indulging in a hedonistic binge of carbs that would likely banish me from South Beach forever.
Back in elementary school, we practiced fire drills every year. Firefighters would come in to remind us that the real danger wasn’t the flames themselves but the smoke. Their mantra? “Stop! Drop! And ROLL!” We’d demonstrate our rolling skills, escaping the imaginary smoke creeping down the hallway. Now, I worry if I should be teaching my kids to stop, drop, and play dead instead.
Reality Check
On the day of the Newtown shooting, I was at my desk, glued to the news updates. Initially, the reports mentioned two fatalities. But as I stepped out for lunch, my heart sank when I saw the updated numbers. A colleague remarked, “Just wait for the gun control advocates to pounce on this one.”
To me, the notion of a “field day” evokes images of fun activities like sack races and tug-of-war—not the tragic loss of innocent lives. “It’s not guns that kill people!” my coworker insisted. Sure, people kill people, often using guns. Other methods exist, but nothing matches the devastation of an assault weapon like the one used in Newtown.
Call me a freak if you want, but first, call me an American. I’m proud to be American—born and raised. My patriotism doesn’t mean viewing my country through rose-colored glasses. I recognize its imperfections. True patriotism lies in acknowledging the dark chapters of our history, like the treatment of Native Americans or the existence of Japanese internment camps.
We’ve sung “This Land Is Your Land” as if it reflected our shared history, but the reality is far more complicated. Acknowledging slavery’s grim legacy while our Founding Fathers penned revered documents is crucial. The U.S. has seen brother fight against brother in a civil war, all over the belief that some could own others.
I love my country deeply, but I refuse to ignore its flaws or to regard any part of its history as untouchable. The Founding Fathers were mere mortals, writing the Constitution under the weight of their circumstances. They had no foresight of the technological advancements that would emerge or the societal issues that would arise.
They didn’t foresee Columbine or Newtown. And yet, when I discuss the need for responsible gun regulation, I’m often met with fierce resistance. “Don’t take away my Second Amendment rights!” But let’s not treat the Constitution as sacred text; questioning gun laws doesn’t equate to a threat to your ownership rights.
As a nation, we stand at a critical juncture. Another shooting is likely on the horizon. I grapple with the fear that my children, my friends’ children, and our community’s children are at risk. I refuse to prepare them for a life of “stop, drop, and play dead.”
Change is imperative.
This article was originally published on Feb. 1, 2013.
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