Shared by Shannon Sonoras
Yesterday I attended the Women’s Rally at the courthouse in downtown Midland, Michigan. Although I was just there for the final couple of speeches, I was grateful for the crowd of folx gathered there. My family and I stood on the edge of the crowd on the sidewalk’s edge, a spot chosen for its sunny location on this “crisp” 35-degree (Fahrenheit!) afternoon. I could hear the words being spoken but could not see the speakers. The messages were likely similar to rallies all over our country with different names of representatives and cities. Before I knew it – and before I wanted it to – the rally ended and people were dispersing.
Before it was too late, I got a picture of my friend, my teenager, and I. Wait. Are we marching? Yes, let’s march. We followed a line of rally-attenders down the sidewalk and then watched people peel off to presumably go to their cars. I felt disappointed, but wanting to spend a bit more time outside, we headed down to the Tridge. My husband offered to go get the car while my teenager and I waited at the bottom of the hill. We accepted and walked to the center of the plaza where there is a brick building that houses public restrooms. Moving to the side of the building that faced the sun, we found relief from the chilly wind and warmed ourselves on the bricks.
Within minutes, I noticed a man walking across the empty plaza toward the restrooms housed in the building which warmed our chilled bones. He was about my height, around 5’7”, wearing olive green pants and henley shirt with the sleeves pushed up and his hands on his hips. Based on the conversation we had, I’d guess he is in his thirties. But what I was struck by was the holstered gun on the right side of his belt.
Was this a police officer? Why did he have a gun? Was this man a threat?
He looked directly at me for a long moment, expressionless, and moved past us. I took a breath and intentionally paused to assess our situation. Walking around the side of the building in the direction the man walked, I figured the man had either walked into the restroom or up the hill in the other direction where he was no longer visible to me. I decided to stand by a nearby post to wait for our ride, a position that the guy would have to walk past.
I didn’t have to wait long; the man walked past us toward the place from which he came. After he’d passed us I said, “Excuse me. Are you in the military?” The man stopped, paused, and turned around saying, “I was in the Navy for four years.” I thanked him for his service.
I explained that I was asking because I noticed that he was wearing a gun. “That’s a gun, right?” I asked. He confirmed my observation. I said, “I am curious…why are you wearing a gun?” He let me know our 2nd amendment makes it legal to do so. “It sure does, doesn’t it?” I replied.
The man then said, “It’s my right to carry a gun just like it’s your right to assembly peacefully.” Right again. Yet I wondered what it was that led him to decide to carry a gun in public, and I told him as much. He said, “These are crazy times. I have a kid like you and want to keep them safe.” Sure, that makes sense.
I told him I appreciated him stopping to talk with me respectfully, to which he replied, “Sure. Hey, we don’t have to believe alike to be respectful to each other.” I told him I couldn’t agree more and he continued on his way.
For second before he walked away, I considered asking if we could exchange phone numbers to talk more about this. In a millisecond I determined there was something about this person that didn’t feel as open and accepting as his words expressed and it was time to go our separate ways.
In Reflection:
Wearing a gun on a belt holster felt threatening, not to mention his posture.
My mind leapt into safety analysis, with my desire to not make assumptions about this person.
The way I chose to act was to be brave and not run and hide – even though this was my first instinct.
I questioned the unsafe position I’d put my child in, but was also aware of the opportunity for learning it offered my kiddo. We stand up to bullies when it feels scary (always) and necessary.
This isn’t the first time I walked through fear to learn more about a situation in which I felt intimidated.
Just writing about this makes my heart beat faster; I am a survivor of many things and will continue to be one until I’m not.