No 6: ANTS VS GUNS
PHOTO BY KATIE KERN
KATIE KERN
Most people are afraid of spiders, monsters, the dark, or things that are genuinely frightening. But nothing scares me more than ants. There are one million billion ants in the world. I squirm up when I think about how there are a million times more ants in the world than humans. I also think about how their quaintness is somewhat intimidating. They can fit into anything, and when they work together, they become massive. Although I fear groups of ants that show up on sidewalks, it also shows the value of the power of one vs. the power of many. When people come together, we get things done dynamically and powerfully.
I notice the power of one vs. the power of many whenever I attend protests or rallies for causes I care about. At every protest I’ve been to in Salt Lake, I always see a familiar face; sometimes it's a teacher, and other times it’s an old friend or other youth activists that I bump into every now and then. Sometimes I see the face of someone whom I’ve never met, but I know their face from another protest or rally. In these moments when I recognize people in my life come together in a space to make a change, I feel a sense of safety and comfort that change can and will occur. To me, being a civil liberties activist means working to create freedom and equality for everyone in our community, whether that is my art teacher that I always see at protests, my mailman that waves to my dog every morning, the homeless man that harmlessly smiles at people next to my favorite restaurant, and every other human living in the community.
My activism with March For Our Lives is how I work to make my community a better place. For all four years of high school, I've stayed involved with March For Our Lives, a student-led organization that works to enforce gun reform throughout the United States, which arose from the Marjory Stoneman Douglas shooting in 2018. This past year, I have been the State Director (along with my Co-State Director, Tory Peters).
Along with my team members, I co-host public radio shows, conduct rallies to increase support for our cause, appear in newspapers, and create spaces so people can familiarize themselves with gun reform and our organization. Additionally, I’ve testified for bills at the Utah State Capitol, hoping to pass sensible gun reform and reduce gun violence. We’ve also increased awareness throughout the state through our different initiatives and created a space for high schoolers, like myself, to truly make a change. Also, we are now planing an initiative to meet with and get school boards to promise to hire more school counselors as a response to Utah’s mental health crisis and the overwhelming amount of suicides completed with firearms. Lastly, something that is important to me as a State Director is making our organization intersectional. Our organization advocates for intersectional policy reform and change, but I also think it is just as important for our organization’s leadership to be diverse and represent what we preach and work for.
A specific challenge that I have had to overcome is how no matter how much work my team members and I have put into the legislative session and making an actual policy change, none of our bills have passed.
Specifically, I remember last year I testified for Universal Background Checks, which would require an extensive background screening for the purchase of a firearm, and eight legislators, all men, slouched into their padded chairs behind a long oak table in a committee hearing refused to even listen to my words. I recall nervously approaching the microphone as they looked at me with indifference; one sipped on a big gulp, and another texted on his phone. Behind me, my fellow members filled half of the room. The other half of the spectators wore shirts of the same color, but with the slogan, "Guns Save Lives." The protestors came to intimidate us, purposely wearing the same color with the opposite message. But, I felt confident that my passionate speech would convince the committee to pass the bill and I assumed that my enthusiasm and certitude would convince my audience.
One reason I care so deeply about gun reform is that it feels so simple. Policies like Universal Background Check simply ensure that people who obtain firearms undergo thorough screenings. I knew that the legislators I was facing were conservative and that they would come in against passing the bill through the hearing, but I genuinely believed that they would listen and change their minds. I truly believed my words would have that power. Instead, they refused to listen. A few legislators raised their eyebrows when I said an impressive fact, but most ignored me, leaving me completely humiliated. As one after another pronounced "nay" on the passage of the bill, I felt devastated.
At the end of that day, the whole team experienced disappointment and anger, not only with the bill's failure but with our own naivete. But after a few days of angst, I realized I had to fight harder.
After my experience at the capitol, I gained a newfound realism, understanding that passing gun reform is almost impossible. Almost. However, the small slice of the possibility that remains keeps the hope alive that we will someday create authentic change.
I’ve reflected and concluded that activism and advocating for policy change are unforgiving, specifically when bills you want to see succeed seem impossible to pass. It's onerous to be told "no" all the time, especially when you put so much passion and time into something. But now I know that by facing rejection and pushing through it, I have strengthened my commitment to causes I feel strongly about. I discovered a pragmatic passion for activism that I will carry with me after high school and for the rest of my life.
