I’m eighteen going on nineteen, I wear pink dresses in the spring, I like getting my nails done, and I like going to the shooting range.
I wasn’t raised around guns, and as any child should be, I was scared of them. Mean, scary, dangerous; a gun is something everyone fears at such a young age. We are taught that guns kill, and so, as a seven-year old, I firmly believed that a gun could kill someone on its own. I was too naïve and young to understand that a person had to pull the trigger to make the gun work, that a person had to be intent on using a gun in a devastating way, that a person was responsible for what a gun is aimed at.
For most of my young life I never imagined shooting a gun, let alone owning one. My parents never spoke of them, I’d never seen one in person, and I didn’t think that they were as important as I heard some people say. When I was a freshman in high school my dad got his concealed carry permit, and soon after my mother did as well. Even then I didn’t see any guns in the house, and so it wasn’t a big deal to me. However I did hear my dad talk about them, he talked of the importance of picking out a good safe, the importance of making sure that all guns were properly stored and out of sight. Hearing this, I thought that if there were to be guns in my home I should know how to use one, how to handle one properly, and most importantly how to respect one. Thus sparked my interest in shooting.
The first gun I ever shot was a .22 rifle, and from then on I’ve been privileged to shoot other types of rifles and handguns as well (yes, I can shoot a handgun in states like Connecticut and Vermont). I have pink ear plugs, pink glasses, and a pink bag to put all my shooting accessories in. I’m as ‘girly’ as you’ll get, which is exactly why I need a concealed carry permit.
As a female in a big city, the potential dangers I am subjected to are numerous. Just as Hillary Clinton gets armed body guards to make her feel safe, I want to feel safe as well, and I have no problem protecting myself. The government, on the other hand, takes issue with the idea that I want to use my second amendment right.
At 18 I am allowed to enlist in the army, giving me full access to guns. I can go and protect myself with a weapon in a foreign country yet if I choose to remain a civilian I am stripped of the liberty; how does that make any sense? At 18 I can buy a rifle and not a handgun. I don’t feel safe walking the streets of the city with nothing but my high pitched scream and maybe a whistle if I’m lucky. I’d feel more safe knowing that I am carrying an item that could save my life if ever the need arises. I would feel safe knowing I don’t have to hope that a police officer gets to me in time if ever I’m physically threatened by a man or if I am ever the subject of an attempted rape/kidnapping/burglary. Women face these threats more so than men; women are assumed to be incapable of physically defending themselves based on our typically smaller body frames and stereotypes. I don’t want to be a textbook case; I don’t want to have to worry about whether or not my survival is contingent on whether there is a police officer around to do exactly what I could do myself if the need ever arises.
I treat my rifles with the same care I’d treat a newborn baby with. I use extreme caution, I research, and I never do anything alone without consulting a range officer. I’ve been taught how to use a gun by former Marines, cops and NRA members who are licensed to instruct. I know how to properly handle a weapon, and I know that that weapon protects me. So I ask Big Brother, am I in any more danger in three years from now? Will I automatically become more responsible in thirty-six months? Where on the Constitution is there a prerequisite regarding the age when my right kicks in?
If the government and celebrities (many who are anti-gun) feel that I don’t deserve to use my second amendment right to protect myself and make me feel safe, then I ask you to ask your bodyguards to disarm, because hey, do guns really protect you?
