mothers demand action

My six-year-old came home from kindergarten and told me that something exciting had happened in school.

“Mommy,” she said began animatedly, “today we got to hide in the bathroom!”

My stomach dropped. I knew very quickly where this story was going. I sat in the front seat of the car, driving us home from school, crying quietly behind my sunglasses as she explained further.

“We all went into the bathroom and we turned out the light! We had to be very quiet and listen for further constructions.”

People–this situation is out of control. We are spiraling. And as much as I have cared about this issue before, it has never directly affected me. But my sweet kindergartner is doing active shooter drills at school. It is a necessity. Her school is doing what it can to protect its students from gun violence.

The school’s hands are tied. They can act defensively but not offensively.

That, fellow humans, is on us.

I don’t want to live in a world where I have to worry about a kid showing up with an AR-15 or the equivalent. I don’t want to have to explain to my young children that this is indeed a possibility that they could face.

I’m marching on Saturday, March 24^th in my local venue; downtown San Diego. There are marches going on all around the country. (For further information and to see if there is one near you, check here.)

For those of you that have never been active in protests before, if you are unsure if this will accomplish anything or have been shamed into thinking that this is some sort of liberal martyrdom—it is not.

Many of us are frustrated with the current gun laws but are lost as to how we do anything about it. We sit with our friends and spouses over coffee and talk quietly about how frightened we are. And we continue to take no action.

Marching is a small step to action. It is a way to show your voice. Every single person that shows up in solidarity with the children of this country is one more face that adds to the masses.

You are one more face demanding to be heard.

I can’t begin to describe what it feels like to be a part of a march; to look out on a sea of people and know that collectively, peacefully, you are a part of something bigger. I want my kids to see that we a country of fighters– that we can affect real change in the world.

I’m going to be honest with you—I don’t know the perfect solution to our gun problem in the United States. But I think that it is a safe assumption that if enough of us demand action from our representatives and push for stricter laws–taking into account the many facets that are at play– we can make a difference.

This is not a partisan issue, it is a human one.

This morning my daughter didn’t want to go to school. She is usually bouncing with excitement to get out the door. As I made her put on her sparkly black shoes and packed her lunch, I second guessed myself making her go.

What if today is the day. What if today is the day the horrific events that have transpired across the nation occur at my precious daughter’s school? What if I make her go and something terrible happens?

I can’t do this anymore. I won’t. It is time to be a part of the change.