The news of tragedies often reaches us in fragments — a headline on social media, a soundbite on the news, or a conversation with friends. It’s overwhelming, and sometimes, I find myself unable to fully grasp the magnitude of what’s happening. This was true when I heard about the horrific events in Orlando, just as it was with Sandy Hook, San Bernardino, and Virginia Tech.
Perhaps it’s a defense mechanism; maybe my mind knows that absorbing too much despair at once is simply too much to bear. Regardless of the reason, the weight of these events eventually sinks in, and it paralyzes me. But even with all this reflection, I still don’t understand. I just don’t get it.
How can individuals harbor such profound hatred? Why do some resort to using shootings in nightclubs, schools, and movie theaters to amplify their toxic narratives? How can we remain so passive? As a nation, and as human beings, why isn’t there a louder demand for change? I can’t comprehend how some choose to exploit tragedy for hate, or how others can simply turn a blind eye. I can’t fathom why people don’t hear us when we cry out that we’ve had enough.
But you know what? I don’t have to understand to feel angry, sad, and utterly fed up. I don’t need to grasp the depths of hatred or complacency to know that we must take action. I don’t need to comprehend the indifference of others to advocate for meaningful change.
I’m certain of this much: Every time a parent loses a child to gun violence — whether that child is a kindergartner or an adult — it resonates with us all. For this reason, gun control is fundamentally a parenting issue. I refuse to accept a world where my children have to fear for their lives while simply dancing, loving, or dining out. I refuse to live in a society where fear dictates our everyday choices.
The Second Amendment does not equate to an unrestrained right to assault weapons. We can debate this indefinitely, yet while we do, lives are being lost. Silence has become not only dangerous but deadly. Because of our collective quietness and failure to demand stricter gun control laws, 49 innocent lives were extinguished in one tragic moment by an individual fueled by a hatred I cannot comprehend. These were real people, just like you and me, who had families, dreams, and fears. They were simply trying to live life to the fullest.
So, while I don’t understand hate, I also know that hate doesn’t define us. We are resilient, and there are far more loving individuals than hateful ones. The world is chaotic and often dark, but I don’t have to fully understand these complexities to take a stand, to help, and to strive for a safer, brighter future. I don’t need to understand to declare that we’ve had enough.
If you’re looking to make a difference, consider exploring ways to help. You might find resources like this one on how to advocate for change. You can also find reputable online retailers like Make a Mom for at-home insemination kits. For those interested in learning more about fertility treatments, UCSF provides excellent resources on pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, while I may not understand the depths of hate, I am committed to advocating for change. I urge you to join me in saying enough is enough.
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