Gun Violence Prevention Advocates: Passing the Torch to the Next Generation

One felt the 26-degree cold and wind here in front of the NRA headquarters on Martin Luther King Jr. Day.  We had a hard time keeping the vigil candles lit, which actually provided an added benefit: huddling together the candles stayed lit and we stayed warmer. A parent of a murdered child spoke, but it was the youth, members of March for Our Lives, who inspired, stunning us with their knowledge and passion.  One of them who mesmerized us on this freezing night was high school senior Michael McCabe.  I had to know what drove him, game him hope. Six days later I caught up with him.

We weren’t supposed to be here at night outside the NRA. Organizers from major national gun safety groups, and advocacy groups from across the state had planned to “vigil” on MLK Day in front of the State Capitol in Richmond followed by visits to state legislators.  Hope was high: for the first time in a generation, legislative committees had already passed three sensible gun provisions – Granting local authorities the right to regulate firearms in parks, churches, libraries, public buildings and public events; reinstatement of the one handgun per month law; and a modified version of a universal background check bill.  Additional bills were poised to pass, among them the “Red Flag” law which would allow authorities to remove guns from those in danger to self or others.   

But a nationwide clarion call from the NRA buttressed by a tweet from President Trump warning that Virginia was about to take guns out of the hands of gun owners, summoned gun rights activists to invade the capital grounds to “protect our sacred rights to bear arms.”  Fully armed individuals who would swarm the Capitol grounds, confront gun violence prevention advocates, and inundate state legislators.  Confrontation would be impossible to avoid. FBI surveillance tapes reported white supremacist groups hoped to “ignite a full-blown civil war.” Some planned “ambush attacks.” “I literally need to claim my first victim,” said militant Brian Lemley. (Washington Post, 1/22/20, Sec. B, pp. 1 & 4)

So, 6,000 Gun Rights protesters jammed Capitol Square and roughly 16,000 flooded the streets around the Capitol.  Despite assurances from the Governor and law enforcement authorities, vigil organizers, knowing they had many youth and gun-shot victims among their numbers, would not endanger their lives and canceled their meeting on the Capitol grounds. But something else was going on inside few of us knew anything about:  March for Our Lives youth were already making their impassioned cases before state legislators!

Youth had asked Delegate Helmer whether he could ensure that their voices weren’t drowned out.  They wanted to speak to their legislators without fear of violence.  “So we let them sleep in our offices Sunday evening so that Monday they could lobby for gun violence prevention,“ wrote Helmer, “And we passed seven pieces of gun violence prevention legislation out of the Public Safety Committee.”

Sunday evening youth slept on the floor of legislators’ offices.  Monday, the kids lobbied while armed gun-rights activists flooded the streets outside the Capitol.  Later that evening, those same kids stood in the cold two hours north, speaking to us in front of the NRA.

“What got you started?” I asked Michael almost a week later.  “After the Sandy Hook massacres, my grandmother took me to the Capitol on Martin Luther King Jr. Day to protest lax gun laws.  I was 11-years-old.  I came face-to-face with guns, almost looking right at the barrels.”  What spurred him?  “Too many in my generation are dying.  There is such injustice, and in spite of everybody’s efforts, the systems haven’t changed.”  Was he angry at adults?  “No.  We need you now more than ever.  We’ll keep pushing.  We won’t stop.  But you run the systems.  Together we can change these systems!  I am obliged,“ continues  Michael.  “I live in a privileged white community that’s not violent. It’s not fair to those who have less, aren’t safe,” he says.  Michael is sustained in this tough confrontational work by “terrific friends and a nationwide network. It’s growing, and it’s so supportive.”  Michaels’s hope?  “There is a huge democratic awakening going on,” replies Michael.  “It’s bigger than just guns. It’s marginalized communities and more. And we’re seeing progress, and some reforms are getting institutionalized!” 

After the rally, I heard the end of MLK’s memorial service: “If you can’t fly, run.  If you can’t run, walk. If you can’t walk, crawl.  Just keep moving forward!”  And finally:  “Be jubilant my feet.  His truth is marching on.”   

Michael’s words twinned with MLK’s, anchored my resolve to stay with the struggle, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the next generation, they now on the march holding the torch on this cold winter night.