On Valentine's Day, the shooter at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida, used an AR-15 to kill 17 people. He had bought the gun legally earlier this month. AR-15s are the most popular guns for mass shooters.
I’ve shot an AR-15.
It’s heavy, first of all. Much heavier than the .22 I usually shoot. The AR-15 is made of some kind of black metal-plastic combo, entirely man-made; its dull color feels less real than the polished wood of my rifle.
The .22 is a Winchester 52D, given to me by my grandfather when I took a liking to it around the age of 12. I’ve won competitions against old white men with it, even as a middle schooler—they called me “Little Lefty” at the shooting range.
The AR-15 is a newer acquisition. My dad bought it a few years after I started shooting, and we took it out the range to scope it in at 100 yards. I was probably 14 at the time.
After my dad and brother had taken their turns, I was handed the gun. I pointed it to the ground until I was in the position to point it downrange. I held my hand on the outside of the gun, finger far from the trigger. I double- and triple-checked the end of the range before I even put my hand on the trigger. I took a breath. And I shot.
With a .22, after each shot, you have to dislodge the cartridge and load a new one. It takes me about 15 seconds.
With the AR-15, I shot and I shot and I shot until the magazine was empty. I took my time after each shot, pausing to catch my breath, but I could have just kept shooting, pulling the trigger one at a time, releasing the bullets that my dad filled himself into the air and onto the person-shaped target (leftover from a concealed-carry lesson) 100 yards away.
Having grown up in gun culture, I have experienced the joys of aiming and firing, of improving and winning. My family’s emphasis on gun safety is ingrained in my mind, and I have never seen a member of my family break a gun safety rule. We know how important they are. We know we are holding death in our hands.
And whenever there is a shooting, the death that I hold in my hands becomes real. The gun culture that I have grown up in has stopped being fun and started being serious. With each mass shooting, the AR-15 continues to unsettle me, just as it did the first time I shot it.
Maybe it’s the weight.
