As a physician and a mother, I often find myself in the sanctuary of my kitchen, where my four children play nearby. I feel a wave of relief wash over me as I welcome my older three home from school. But my heart sinks when I hear about gun violence erupting at a center for individuals with disabilities in San Bernardino. My youngest is on the floor, engrossed in her Little People Nativity set, blissfully unaware of the chaos beyond our walls.
While I try to maintain a cheerful demeanor as I distribute after-school snacks, my mind races with unsettling thoughts. Will my children make it to adulthood? Will I witness their growth into adulthood, or will they fall victim to yet another tragic act of senseless violence? I’ve experienced loss; I know children can endure the passing of a parent. I’ve outlived my own mother by two years. Yet, the grim reality of what could happen at a mall, grocery store, or concert haunts me daily.
I grew up in a vastly different era. I rode in the front seat of cars without seatbelts, skated without a helmet, and spent hours outside without a way to contact my parents. My own children, however, are strapped into car seats engineered to withstand anything—even a nuclear disaster. They’ve never inhaled cigarette smoke, and I hover closely while they ride their bikes, resembling the Goodyear Tire mascot.
Despite these precautions, I grapple with the frightening truth that gunfire is a routine occurrence in our society. Even with security measures like checkpoints and surveillance cameras, the reality remains: those wielding firearms find ways to infiltrate our spaces. The threat of violence looms large, from individuals with guns to those orchestrating bombings.
I seek answers, yet the narratives from those in power often miss the mark. Politicians on television insist guns aren’t the issue, but they fail to identify the root cause if it isn’t firearms. Some point to religion, others to substance abuse, and some claim we should fear our own government.
But my fear lies not with the government; it is the guns and the individuals who use them. I struggle to understand the logic of those advocating for increased access to firearms as a solution to violence. I wish for clarity on this issue.
As my baby crawls towards me, offering the angel that she has removed from her Nativity set, I can’t help but smile back at her innocence. She is blissfully unaware of the dangers surrounding us, and I find myself yearning to protect her from such harsh realities.
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In summary, while the safety of our children is paramount, the ongoing prevalence of gun violence raises uncomfortable questions about societal priorities. We must strive to create a world where firearms do not overshadow the well-being of our youth.