I am afraid of guns. This is not a mild fear. Even if a police officer stands too closely I move away—I see the holstered gun and need to put space between us. I believe that handguns and automatic weapons are instruments of death and death only, thus they are evil. I do not use the word “evil” lightly, as I find evil in the world as real and tangible as guns themselves (I do have a bachelor’s degree in history, which too often doubled as the study of war and weapons).
But enough about my fears, right? What’s the point? Well, two legislators in Wisconsin are seeking sponsors for a bill to allow concealed weapons into college buildings and classrooms. This is where I work and make my living. I will say this plainly: I cannot do my job if there are guns present in the classroom, concealed or not. I will save the usual trolls the energy of response (Well then get another job! What a pussy! Man up!) Will anyone care? Will anyone in the legislature stand up for me, particularly on the Republican side, when it is now that I, and employees and students who feel similarly, need you most? Will the people who rally for the objections of someone like Kim Davis rally for my conscientious objection to feeling threatened and scared in my workplace? This is not a rhetorical question.
Let me divert into the personal for a moment, as that is one thing I try to do in this blog—attach human faces and stories to issues that don’t get such treatment in writing that is strictly partisan bomb throwing.
People who were close to me have died because of gun violence. We’re talking cold murder and random shootings.
Many years ago a friend of mine from high school, a math savant and lover of chess, was murdered in a robbery. He was a wonderful person with the sense of humor to match. (If he would have been armed, he might still be alive! See! It’s his fault!) He was indeed unarmed at the time of his death, but it wouldn’t have mattered. He was shot in the back of the head. He was driving a cab and was killed for what might have amounted to a few hundred dollars.
Not long after that, a former co-worker of mine was shot and killed in California. (We worked part-time jobs together in a local grocery store while beginning our college careers.) She was a vivacious, funny person, and we were two teenagers who flirted with each other and the idea of dating. I have a vivid memory of walking with her one day, outside of work, holding hands. With her being African-American and me being white, we drew a lot of looks (that was an incredibly uncommon sight in Buffalo at the time). Let’s just say that that short walk taught me more about race than any lecture I’ve ever heard; that lesson is secondary to how brilliant her smile was. Although she was in the military at the time of her death, she was also unarmed. It didn’t matter. She was sitting in a bar when someone in a car driving by fired randomly at the people standing in front. I guess bullets have unintended consequences. Continue reading “UW Struggle: Guns and the TL;DR Edition”