By Sharon Nyree Williams
Founder of The Mahogany Project
I recently saw a shirt that said, “I love Guns & Coffee”. The man wearing the shirt was nice. He spoke to me and I spoke back, but his shirt disgusted me. I don’t drink coffee and I don’t like guns. I guess I shouldn’t say I don’t like guns, but rather I don’t like people who have guns and decide to shoot other people.
In North Carolina where I grew up, there were some guns around me. My mom had a gun hidden in the top middle drawer of her dresser wrapped in a white cloth. I accidentally came a cross it when I was looking for something that I had no business looking for in her room. In fact, I think I was looking for some money to go and buy a sandwich from the Barbecue Lodge that was behind our house just over the fence!
My grandmother had or shall I say, still has a gun. Now it was no secret that she kept a gun. She lived in the country. I know you’re saying North Carolina is the country. I lived in the suburbs where there were nice neighborhoods, a few grocery stories, not to far from the local mall, and quite a few people.
My grandmother lived in a town, we had to pass cotton fields, go over train tracks, pass the one corner store, and wave at the man that was always sitting in the center of the town under the big pecan tree to get to her house. A couple of roads beside her house were dirt when I was growing up. Like I said, she lived in the country.
When she wanted to scare away stray dogs, my grandmother would bring out her gun. You see in North Carolina it use to be this real popular thing that people would do. When they got tired of their dog for whatever reason they would drive them to the country and let them go. So they became these angry stray dogs fending for their life everyday and they would walk across my grandmother’s field. She wanted to protect her field and her family so she would go outside and shoot the gun to scare the dogs away. I can hear her to this day shooting the gun, and then yelling, “Shooo get on out of here. Shooo get out of here, before I shoot you for real. Your nasty tail”. It was funny—back then.
Today, there’s nothing funny about guns. There’s nothing cool about guns. To me that is. Like they say, “To each his own”. I have an Uncle who goes hunting and loves his gun, but I’m just not a fan. Guns are dangerous in the hands of the wrong people and that’s a fact. But what I don’t understand is how does a person get so angry that they could shoot someone else?
When I was growing up we use to fight. I’m sorry, but punching someone in the face did not feel good to me. I’ve done it a lot and received some punches to, but as I got older I realized I don’t like the feeling. I avoided fights if I could. Now if you messed with my little brother, that was on you because it was about to go down!
How I wish we still had good old fashion fights. At least after a fight everyone got up and when the dust settled, they picked the ball back up and continued the kick ball game. No one was ever left lying in the street with the blood of life flowing from their body where we once played.
I’m sad every time I hear someone is a victim of gun violence. I’m sad because it’s just not right. There’s no other way to put it.
What saddens me even more is that I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what society can or should do to stop it. We know longer live in the days where the fight can be simply broken up, because the person breaking it up may get shot. People are angry. People are angry, and life is no longer valuable; which means we aren’t safe anywhere we go. How do we get back to where we use to be? How do I get the gun in the top middle drawer of the dresser wrapped up that is never intended to be used and I wouldn’t dare touch it? Or how do we get the gun that is only used to scare the angry dogs by shooting in an open space where you can’t possibly hit something or someone?
Life seemed simple back then. You piss somebody off they punch you in the face. You through a few blows and someone who cares steps in and stops it. Nowadays, there are bullets flying everywhere. You can be across town sitting in your living room, minding your own business and because someone refused to throw a punch. A bullet can come searing through the window and pierce through your skin while your three year old daughter is sitting on the floor playing with Dora the Explorer as you take your last breath.
I dreamed that I could one day make a difference in the world. But guns, people with guns, and death are things that I can’t figure out how to change. We as a community have to stop wearing the “I Love Guns & Coffee” t-shirt, but instead wear the shirt that says, “Punch me in the face & we can both live to see another day.”
For the record I prefer not to be shot or punched in the face. The only true option is to just walk away.
Editor’s Note: The views expressed here are solely those of the author and do not in any way represent the views of the Central District Forum for Arts & Ideas.
