In 1998, a school shooting happened at Westside Middle School in Jonesboro, Arkansas. A teacher and four students were killed by their classmates. In response, Ferncliff, a PC(USA) camp and conference center, reached out to partner with their community and provide a camp experience for the students to reflect and begin healing. It was such a helpful experience attendees asked to have the camp again and again. They even invited other students from other parts of the country with similar experiences to join. For two of these summers, I worked at Ferncliff as a camp counselor.
The first summer I worked there, I was 19 years old. I had seen news stories about the Jonesboro mass shooting and similar events, but I didn’t relate to the campers’ experiences. It was difficult for me to capture the gravity of our ministry.
Then, one day it hit me. A group of us were swimming at the camp pool, enjoying the cool water on a hot day, and I noticed one of the female campers was missing a chunk from her upper arm. The surrounding skin was covered in scars. Naively, I said to other campers around me, “Wonder what happened to her arm?” And sure enough, a camper chimed in, “That’s where she got shot.”
Embarrassed, I’m sure I changed the subject and moved on; but internally, that was the moment I understood for the first time the impact of gun violence. If a bullet could do that to her arm, I can’t imagine what it did to those who didn’t survive. For whatever reason, that visual realization quickly gave me a better understanding of what impact this kind of violence had on these students who were only a few years younger than me. My compassion and empathy grew.
Later that week, one of my campers from Westside shared his story about that tragic day. He was friends with one of the shooters. He told me how much guilt he carried for not knowing what his friend was thinking or planning – as if a middle school kid is even skilled to know what to look for. It was heartbreaking to listen to him describe the weight he felt.
Looking back, I can’t fully understand the impact we made in those weeks of camp. But if anything, I hope we gave campers back a bit of the childhood that was taken away from each of them, if even for just a few days.
I hope we gave campers back a bit of the childhood that was taken away from each of them.
A few months ago, I watched the movie “Till.” While the film tells the story of Emmett Till’s murder, its main focus is his mother Mamie, who channeled her grief to find her voice in the pursuit of widespread justice. When they found 14-year-old Till’s body, the sight was beyond horrific. But his mother, amid unimaginable grief, knew this wasn’t the first nor last time something like this would happen. So she courageously agreed to let Jet Magazine publish images of her son’s brutalized body. She wanted, she needed, people to wake up. Her actions, followed by the acquittal of the accused, were a catalyst for the civil rights movement. That picture of Till’s tortured, deceased, young body gave the country an entirely different perspective on the violence of racism.
Ever since those days at camp, I’ve wondered what else can be done to stop school shootings. I’m intrigued that the one thing that hasn’t been done, to my knowledge, is giving the country a lasting visual of what these acts have done. Sure, we’ve seen the remembrance photos of the deceased. We’ve seen security videos of many shooters pulling the trigger and audio clips of screaming people, but that hasn’t been enough for our country to do anything different.
What would it take for us to truly impact the hearts of those who love their guns, or money from the NRA, more than solving the seemingly unending cycle of gun violence against children? Would it take seeing the classroom in Uvalde or Sandy Hook immediately in the untouched aftermath for us to finally come together on this? That idea horrifies me to even consider. Such footage would also traumatize families again, as if their pain isn’t already unbearable. Even if we did see those images, I wonder if our access to violence in our entertainment has numbed our country’s hearts too much to change.
I hear complaints each time a shooting happens. I see social posts calling for change and voicing disgust. I send notes to my congressional leaders who tuck their tails behind the Second Amendment. I read the op-eds. These patterns aren’t working as fast as we need them to work — the ever-growing number of victims isn’t turning the needle.
So what then? It seems to me we must create new approaches to capture the attention of those who refuse to look. Maybe we don’t have to make the same decision that Mamie Till-Mobley did, but I do believe we need to channel her courage. We must disrupt the cycle for good — so I keep praying for a creative imagination of discernment for what might be the catalyst for change.
Maybe we don’t have to make the same decision that Mamie Till-Mobley did, but I do believe we need to channel her courage. We must disrupt the cycle for good.
I can’t shake and I won’t shake my memory of the teenage girl’s arm at camp. I can’t shake the idea that far too many children will never graduate from high school because of gun violence. I won’t shake the idea that each time a school shooting happens, we strip away a piece of our children’s childhoods.
I don’t have the ideas to spur change, but the good news is that this work is not done in isolation. I am encouraged by the work of organizations like March For Our Lives and Students Demand Action. If we are willing to bring our resources, our stories and our encouragement alongside those who live this struggle for peace and justice daily, the Spirit will show up and change will happen. I have to believe that is true.
We may need to change our approach, but let’s keep working together to end gun violence — one bold, imaginative, and courageous step at a time!
