“God and guns keep us strong. That’s what this country was founded on. Well we might as well give up and run if we let them take our God and guns.” -From “God & Guns” by Lynyrd Skynyrd 

“A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.”

That is the entire text of the second amendment to the Constitution of the United States of America. Until 2008, that amendment was focused on the greater good, as well as the protection of people, in numbers, not the individual rights. Since a SCOTUS decision in 2008, however, that has changed significantly.

There are gun rights activists and lobbyists spread through our nation, while not an activist, I believe in the right to bear arms, the right to use aforementioned arms in the protection of the lives of myself and my loved ones. But I also believe in the second amendment’s original purpose: to protect Americans from a tyrannical and fascist government.

Now, I’m not going to accuse our government of being tyrannical and fascist. Yet. They aren’t. But we’re on the brink of becoming just that. It starts with baby steps, not a giant leap. “Nothing changes instantaneously: in a gradually heating bathtub you’d be boiled to death before you knew it.”**

We currently live in a country that has a “leader” who has taken great pride in working to strip away rights of millions of people: Muslims, women, LGBTQ people, Mexicans and other Hispanic/Latinx Americans, the disabled, black people, and perhaps most blatantly, and aggressively, the free press.

We are watching the nation, the government, with abject horror. Well, most of us are. Some of you still believe in MAGA, though I’ve never been able to get a solid answer from anyone I’ve asked as to when, exactly, was America great for everyone living here.

I’ve watched myself become numb to the insanity that has become our day to day life. Numb to verbal tirades, and abuse, from the person who is supposed to be leading us. Numb to the stripping of rights. Numb to hate crimes that have been all but encouraged and prescribed, again, by our fearless leader. Numb to the violence that has become commonplace. Numb to the governmental bickering by those who are supposed to represent us. Numb to the genocide happening by those who are to protect us. Numb to human rights violations, the raping of our planet, the ignorance of our history, the sheer fucking hatred toward the least, displayed by those who have the most, in a country that claims to be Christian, following Christ, who Himself commanded us to love the least of us.

I am so tired. I am worn thin. I am angry. I am sad. I am frustrated. I am confused. I am bewildered. I am…I am numb. The kind of numb that happens when something is injured so deeply that nerves are severed. That’s the numb I am.

I keep waiting to see, waiting for this well-armed militia that I know exists, to rise up, and protect Americans. Protect the least of us. Protect your land. Protect your country. Protect your freedoms. But you aren’t doing that. You’re just…you’re just worried they will take your guns. Mark my words, one day, they will. And by then, will it be too late?

Second amendment fanatics: what are YOU going to do about it? I am putting the onus of protecting our country back on you, the people who claim to be such ardent and avid supporters of the second amendment. I am giving your words back to you, on a silver platter, and asking you to eat them, or do something the fuck about it.

So, what are ya gonna do about it?


**Quote from “The Handmaid’s Tale” by Margaret Atwood.

Posted by:amazinglydisgraced

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s