The Paralyzing Fear of Gun Violence

When I first heard the shrieks, I was in line to buy a set of pajamas at Victoria’s Secret with my nanny and godmother, Lizette. Then, suddenly, a stampede of people ran through the store.

“Get down!” someone screamed.

“We heard gunshots!” a woman yelled.

I dropped to the floor and grabbed Lizette’s hand. “¿Qué está pasando?” (“What is happening?”) I asked her. My heart was beating out of my chest.

She did not answer. We were both panicked. I wondered if the shooter was in the store.

An employee ran to a door in the back of the store. We followed her into a gray room filled with lockers and chairs. I stared at the door, waiting for someone to walk in. Was the shooter still in the mall? There was nowhere to go. Surely, if someone tried, they could get through the door. The employees listened to updates on their radios. My whole body began to shake as I processed what was going on.

Ten minutes later, the employees told us that the gates had shut in front of the store and that the police were beginning to search the mall. Relief.

Those were the scariest ten minutes of my life. I thought that I was going to die; I mentally prepared myself to have a gun pointed at me. Those ten minutes changed me.

We stayed in that back room for two hours as the police searched the mall. I was cold and shaking. I kept updating my phone until an hour and a half after the initial incident when the news reported that the shooter had gotten into an argument with someone he knew and shot three people in that mall — Aventura Mall in Miami. The report stated that the shooter had left immediately but did not report that thousands of people hid for hours.

This wasn’t my first experience with gun violence. When I was in the fifth grade, there was a mass shooting not too far from where I live in Miami at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland. Fourteen students and three teachers died at that school, a place where we should all be safe.

I had trouble imagining that fear and understanding that threat before that incident. In elementary school, lockdowns were a time to whisper and giggle with friends. After the Parkland shooting, though, no one spoke during lockdown drills. To this day, the air during these drills is tense and petrifying. No one is laughing. The threat is real. Too real.

After the shooting in the mall, I had panic attacks for weeks. I felt unsafe in public and did not want to be in large, commercial spaces. I was not in control, and that was difficult to accept. My experience did not compare to many others’ experiences with gun violence, yet I was rattled. I was 14, and I felt helpless.

Then, the Robb Elementary shooting in Uvalde, Texas, happened, and my resentment reached an all-time high. My stomach flipped when I read that Uvalde was the deadliest school shooting in a decade; 19 children and two teachers were killed. My heart ached as I thought of the parents who dropped their children off at school one morning and never got to see them again. They will never hug their babies again.

The more I read, the angrier I became. I shut my computer and screamed into my hands. When was it going to be enough? When was there going to be enough pain to cause change? How can politicians look in the mirror?

For the next couple of weeks, as more news came out about the shooting, my panic attacks continued. Parents and children who lost their friends that day were on the news. I felt their pain. Eleven-year-old Miah Cerillo covered herself in her dead friend’s blood to avoid being shot. She called 911 from her dead teacher’s phone. In what world is this acceptable?

I read articles that included the statements of politicians after the shooting. A Texan politician caught my attention. He did not offer solutions for protecting children but rather took the press opportunity to politicize the situation. He shared his opinion, which was that it was essential for Americans to have access to firearms. These politicians claim to be “pro-life,” advocating for the unborn but not the children already on Earth.

I have read the Constitution and the Bill of Rights in school. I understand why upholding the Constitution is necessary for our nation’s success and a well-functioning government. Still, I do not understand how a document written centuries ago can prohibit gun control for public safety. Banning all guns may not be the solution, but changing our policies has to be. We need to focus on who has access to firearms. Purchasing a gun in America is too easy. Pulling a trigger is too easy. Proper training is needed, as are background checks and mental health evaluations.

When will we depoliticize this human rights issue? Our country is divided, but to fix this, we must unite. This isn’t Democrats versus Republicans. It must be Americans against gun violence.