Can We Ever Find Common Ground on Guns?

Experiencing the Second Amendment Rally in Richmond

The days leading up to the annual Lobby Day rally were tense this year. There were rumors of civil war with white supremacist groups planning to attend and ardent Second Amendment supporters declaring it the moment to stand their ground against perceived governmental overreach. News of FBI arrests of three members of The Base, a far-right group, and the appearance in town of Infowars’s Alex Jones and The Proud Boys stoked tensions further.

When day broke on that Monday, temperatures were in the low 20s, and an unsettling calm lingered in the city. At the Downtown YMCA just a few blocks from Capital Square, the staff had positioned guards wearing blaze orange in the parking lots to ensure parking for members. Meanwhile, people wearing camouflage and blaze orange stickers reading “Guns Save Lives” trickled past. Many wore sidearms, a few carried assault-style rifles, and inside, the talk was all about the potential for violence at the rally.

Streets were blocked off beginning four blocks before Capital Square, and rally-goers wearing everything from suits to full tactical gear milled about. A group of Proud Boys passed me, moving quickly in formation. Near one large gathering, I stopped to speak to a police officer I knew. “I’m not allowed to discuss it,” he told me. Other officers I spoke to said the same thing.

The crowd was clearly smaller than the 100,000+ warned of by the Virginia Citizens Defense League, and later Capital Police crowd estimated the crowd at 22,000. The attendees were overwhelmingly white and heavily armed, and clearly law enforcement had decided not to enforce the ban on face coverings as many in the crowd wore balaclavas or bandanas covering their faces. The vast majority also wore hats, shirts, or buttons showing their support of President Trump. Some carried signs for militias from Arkansas and Texas. A lot of the gear and weapons being carried appeared to be brand new, and some attendees carried long guns with magazines visibly larger than the legally-allowed 20 rounds.

I stopped a tall man who was carrying one such gun, as well as a side arm and wearing full tactical gear, and asked, “How many rounds can that hold?”

“None of your business,” he answered from behind the “Don’t Tread on Me” bandana covering his face.

“Okay,” I said. “Can I ask why you’re wearing body armor? Are you in danger?”

“Yeah. The government wants to take my rights away, and I want to be able to defend myself.” I asked if they were planning to do that. “Just go away,” he grumbled.

A crowd had begun to form around us. “You’re an agitator,” one person yelled. “He’s trying to start something,” another said. Three people put their phones in my face. I asked an older man who had positioned himself directly in front of me to move his phone and stop touching me. “Oh, you’ll know it if I touch you,” he answered. Someone yelled, “You’re just a coward.” One woman held her phone up and spoke into a headset as though she was narrating what was happening.

Two officers came into the crowd. One said, “Everything okay here? Y’all keeping it peaceful?”

“We’re just asking him some questions,” a young man behind me answered. “Cause he’s trying to start something.”

The second officer moved closer. “We’ve had a good day here, so far. Let’s keep it that way, okay?”

The older man said, “Come on. Let’s go. He’s just a Democrat coward.” The crowd broke into smaller groups

I took a deep breath and turned the corner to head back to the Y when a shorter man in tactical gear stepped directly in front of me. “Can I talk to you,” he asked. A Bushmaster was slung across his chest, and he squinted behind tactical glasses. “My name’s Chris.” I introduced myself and shook his hand. “You do realize they’re trying to take away our guns, right? They’re trying to take away our ways of defending ourselves.”

“But nobody’s trying to take them away. At least, I’m not trying to.” Someone grunted behind me, and I realized the crowd was forming once again. “I’m here trying to understand better.”

“You do realize that if they take away our rights to defend ourselves, only criminals will have guns. Is that the kind of country you want?” He shifted in front of me, while a companion took video of us.

“Could you please stop,” I asked him. Behind me, someone said, “It’s a free country.” Someone else added, “You in a public place.” I took a deep breath and asked again, “Could you please stop taking video?”

“He’s with me,” Chris said. “You do realize that the CDC says more crimes are prevented by guns than are caused by them, don’t you?” I said I hadn’t heard that. “You should look it up and see how everything you’ve been told is wrong.”

I sidestepped his assumptions and said, “Well, I’ve lost friends to gun violence and been a victim myself.” From the side, someone shouted, “Wouldn’t’ve happened if you’d been carrying.” I took another deep breath and kept my focus on Chris. “I’m not trying to take your guns away, but a lot of people don’t believe more guns make us safer.”

Chris snapped. His demeanor and expression became aggressive. “I was assaulted,” he screamed. “Do you know what that’s like? I was assaulted, and I protect myself.”

“I’m really sorry about that,” I said, trying hard to keep my voice calm as the crowd grew around us. “I was shot, but I don’t feel the need to carry to make myself feel safe.”

A young guy from the previous encounter interjected, “Maybe he shoulda been a better shot.” He laughed.

“I was assaulted,” Chris spluttered. Do you know what that’s like?!?” Chris was incensed, “Do you know what it’s like to be assaulted?!?” Another voice: “It’s our god-given right.”

I breathed deeply and focused on staying calm as I turned to the man who commented on the shooting. “Have you ever been on the wrong end of a gun?” He shook his head. “Good,” I said, “I hope you never are. PTSD really sucks.”

I turned back, but Chris’s companion was walking away with him. I recognized the look on his face. It was the look of someone who’s been triggered, who is re-experiencing trauma. A part of me wanted to go after him, to tell him that I felt bad for him, but it was clear that things had become so charged — so triggered — that the only way we’d be able to have the real dialog that needed to happen was by being away from the crowds, the mob mentality amping up their antagonism and my tension.

Four men approached me, and one said, “Can I talk to you?” I looked at them, at their weapons and the looks on their faces, and said, “Sorry, guys. I’m done.” One taunted me that I was afraid of them, and I shrugged. “I’ve seen enough, guys.”

As I headed back up the hill, I watched the motorcycle officers riding in formation, turning left to start dispersing the crowds back at the square. I stopped to ask a couple officers standing at a roadblock how they felt the day had gone. “Better than it might have,” one said. “Largest crowd I’ve seen in 15 years,” another added.

“How do you think it all went,” I asked not expecting an answer. The first one, a younger African-American man, answered, “All things considered, it’s been good. Lots of people, but everybody pretty much stayed calm.” I shook his hand, thanked them for being there, and continued up the hill.

So much of what I’d seen seemed to be driven by people’s fears of losing a way of life and of people who weren’t like them. I wondered how someone like Chris who felt the need to arm himself in response to trauma could move past his trauma in such a charged environment — and how I could continue to move past my own trauma enough to understand the needs of someone like him.

Ultimately, nothing is easy about the issue. While the rally goers had every legal right to gather and carry openly, their zealous defense of their rights should not leave others feeling antagonized from or terrified of walking around their city. While people like me who prefer not to carry weapons should respect these rights, it should also be incumbent on Second Amendment supporters to follow laws. Finally, while the officers were correct that the day could have been far worse, selective enforcement of such laws risks leaving citizens on all ends of the spectrum disgruntled. Finding common ground is going to be difficult and will take work, but it can happen if the needs and rights of all citizens are given due respect.