In light of this morning’s events, my silence could not last. When I read the breaking news about the Colorado shooting before I left for work this morning, it was only two sentences long and it didn’t really hit me as hard as it should have.
It wasn’t until I was sitting in the break room, and a girl who had survived the shooting unharmed but badly shaken up was telling her story on television… and it suddenly became so personal, and so real, and I almost started sobbing in the middle of the break room in front of several coworkers. I’m still not really sure how I kept it together.
I’m not just sad. I’m angry. I’m angry, because if anyone in a position of real authority says what I’m about to say, they’ll be burned in effigy, they’ll be accused of “politicizing a tragedy” (or as some of us like to call it, addressing the problem.)
There is a solution here. Get rid of the guns. I am absolutely tired of seeing anyone who suggests this called a fascist, or all kinds of less political, hardly applicable insults (many of which are sexually demeaning in nature; I’m not even kidding.) I’m tired of biting my tongue for the sake of politeness, I’m tired of being called names, and most of all I’m just tired of the violence.
I am not just sad. I am angry.
I’m going to end by quoting the Ani DiFranco song “To the Teeth,” because I think she says this better than I possibly can. I would highly recommend listening to the entire song, but this verse is especially striking:
every year now like Christmas
some boy gets the milk-fed suburban blues
reaches for the available arsenal
and saunters off to make the news
and women in the middle
are learning what poor women have always known
that the edge is closer than you think
when your men bring the guns home
Goodnight, and good luck.
