A Black Man Struggling With Open Carry
The single right that could change the tide in the fight for equality.
I found myself trying desperately to ignore the coverage about the terrorist attacks in Paris.
I was still reeling from the senseless death of young Tyshawn Lee.
While politicians on both sides of the pond were vowing to go on the offense against the terrorists, I couldn’t help but be numb. For me, the Bataclan Theater and other locations in Paris are public places that’ll become makeshift memorial sites until the wind tatters the photos of smiling faces. We’ll have a few weeks of hashtagging and saying prayers for the victims. Another speech will have been delivered by our President, who is fed up with having to repeat himself, no matter who the culprit is.
Here in America, we don’t get time to mourn and process grief because gun violence is an ugly part of this country’s identity.
My first experience with a gun was when I was 14. I remember the gun feeling heavy in my hands. That turning the gun sideways and shooting isn’t easy. I can’t say I ever feared guns, but they aren’t as much a part of my life as they are for fanatic gun activists.
A few months ago, I seriously started thinking about keeping a gun in my trunk.
What initiated this was the McKinney, Texas pool incident over the summer. It was infuriating to watch that teenage female child being slammed to the ground. Her rights over her body were grossly violated. I tried to put myself in the place of a father having to witness the officer’s lack of restraint. I cringed seeing the officer draw his gun on the teenage boys who were simply trying to help their friends.
It’s emotionally damaging to be reminded that we as Black men aren’t wired to protect ourselves.
We comply because non-compliance often means jail or death.
The more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve considered the power that’s embraced and abused by gun owners in the US. Where I live, open carry is legal, as is concealed carry with a concealed handgun permit.
This entire country rests its head on the right to protect family and property by any means necessary. Middle America and the South, in fact, are opposed to big government. Yet, they’ve been the loudest agitators in the BLM movement. Despite this ideological stance, they’re also staunch police apologists — they continue to argue that the police can do what they want because they wear a badge. Constitutional rights be damned for people of color. The obvious conclusion is that, as a Black man, having a gun on my person enlarges the bulls-eye on my back. Because — remember — even in a place that sells guns, Black men better not even think about touching one.
Gun ownership is often an emotional decision, rather than a logical one.
Statistically, homeowners with guns end up injuring themselves or family members more than they do trespassers. How many times have we read in the past year alone about children who have shot themselves or other children because they got ahold of a gun in the home? There’s also been heavy debate about how having armed teachers or school administrators could deter school shootings. That level of paranoia does nothing in the way of protection. So no, someone with a gun wouldn’t have been able to stop terrorists. Or James Holmes. Or Adam Lanza. Or Dylann Roof. Or Christopher Mercer.
I vacillate between exercising my right and preserving my life. I don’t want to feel like my skin color stops me from exercising a right and privilege that is constantly paraded around by White people in public spaces. The reality is the exact opposite, though. For a Black man, the decision to open carry just isn’t that simple.
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