Two weeks ago, despondency was everywhere as news of the Broward County tragedy dominated newspapers, airwaves and conversations.
Yet another school massacre, another loss of beautiful, young, unfulfilled lives. And for what? No enemy invaders. No bombs falling from the sky. Just a nation at war with itself.
That morning, a friend offered to lead our small writing group in prayer for the victims and survivors, before we wrapped up our weekly session — a time during which I had been unable to create a single sentence. My mind was filled with a sense of despair and helplessness.
I am not a person who prays, but out of respect for my friend, I listened and accepted the words she was offering up for everyone touched by the massacre.
It was in the calmness of those moments, in the space behind closed eyes, that an epiphany came. A sudden awareness of the way forward. A sense of hope.
“A national movement,” I said when she ended. “There has to be a national movement, something with the power of the Women’s March to fight this gun culture. A movement that demands we do whatever is necessary to guarantee each single child’s safety.”
That evening, I called a friend who had been active in social justice issues for decades and told him my thoughts. “Everyone involved in the delivery of education must band together,” I said. “School boards, superintendents, principals, teachers and their unions. Everyone must demand that we make our schools safe, and be prepared to close them if it doesn’t happen. If a building is deemed a fire hazard because of faulty wiring, or a health hazard because of asbestos, it’s closed until the problem is resolved. We have to look at the school shootings with the same mindset. I’m not a leader,” I added. “I’m a behind-the-scenes person. But I can write letters, speak face to face. Tell me who to contact, who might take this on.”
A short silence, and then, “Give me a couple of days to think about it. I’ll come up with some people who will want to talk to you.” I walked around for the rest of the evening writing letters in my head, planning persuasive pitches for conversations.
The next morning, the most amazing news. The movement was already beginning, but not in the way I’d envisaged. It was being led by the very ones who needed protection — the students themselves.
Within days they accomplished more than the adult world had achieved in years. They fired up a national conversation on the necessity for effective gun laws. They challenged politicians. They spawned a movement to boycott the National Rifle Association, planned marches and school walkouts, and showed a level of maturity and clear thinking that was remarkable.
I am amazed at their strength right after the tragedy of losing siblings, friends, beloved adults; right after experiencing terrifying trauma. “We’ve been waiting for you,” former President Barack Obama tweeted them. He’s so right. They are the first to step up to the plate loudly and resolutely. Their energy moves and inspires us.
Everyone remembers where they were when President Kennedy was assassinated. I was in England, my homeland. America was a distant place, its president not part of my life. But I remember vividly listening in shock to the announcement on the radio, and feeling the national grief an ocean away.
I remember 9/11, going into the office at school to check my mailbox, hearing the background sound of the radio, and seeing the secretary jump in her chair. “Oh my God, a second plane’s hit.” I remember the stunned silence in the staff room, the air dense with our unvoiced fears.
I will always remember that moment with my writing friends, when, with eyes closed, I sensed the energy, a good energy, that was already rising among the students in Florida, although at the time I didn’t know its source.
After a year of despondency over what this country has become, I am filled with hope. Our young people have forced us to a turning point on gun control and the value of human life. No one is just a number. No one should be collateral damage when it comes to interpretations of the Second Amendment.
The youth of America are leading the conversation and action on issues that matter to all of us who want this country to be a safe place to live. They will not give up. I can feel it.
Claire Day, an expat from northern England, is a retired educator and local writer who lives in Easthampton.