Betting On Morality Against Guns

Here 4 the Kids' mobilization to stop gun violence.

Saira Rao and other members of the Here4TheKids team. Via @SairaRao

Society, they say, is an organism of such complex structure that change - real, lasting change - can be a monumental undertaking. Change is a concept locked within a fortress of time, resources, toxic traditions, and all the impediments we can imagine. I am no stranger to attempting change, but I argue a different perspective: change, in its fundamental essence, is not complex. It is as straightforward as the sunrise, as clear as a mountain stream untouched by human hand.

What makes change difficult to accomplish is often a prerequisite, a pillar, a beacon, an unwavering belief in a single principle: morality.

People choosing to do the right thing.

Now, don't get me wrong, I know that morality, like beauty, can find its definitions in the eyes of beholders. Yet, in the depths of our hearts, across all divides, aren't there some rights and wrongs we universally acknowledge? Atrocities so horrible that we are forced to be better versions of ourselves to ensure they never happen again?

Atrocities such as children’s lives being stolen by gun violence.

The ability of society to transcend itself, to metamorphose and flourish beyond its present limits, is a faith I cling to. The ailments that gnaw at the bones of our nation, our world, these foes are not invincible. They can be beaten, they can be healed.

To skeptics, my words likely make me sound like an idealist, a dreamer. But the irony is, I am often labeled as the pessimist, the cynic. Because in my faith that we can be more as a society, I also dare to point out the flaws in our plans to get there. I dissect, I dismantle, I critique. Every vision of progress presented to me undergoes this unwelcome autopsy. Not because I seek to undermine, but because I believe. Because I care.

I suppose I’m a strategic idealist.

Pricking the balloon of idealism not to burst it, but rather to deflate it just enough so that we might test whether it will still float when faced with far more harsh gravity. In that way, I consider myself a strategic idealist, an optimist with eyes wide open to the world's shortcomings.

All in the belief that we can be better tomorrow than we are today.

Yet, I have found myself wrestling with a sense of defeat, of helplessness, when faced with the disease of gun violence. In my recent writing, I stated that gun violence is a choice the United States is making with a grim, profit-driven determination, paying the price with the lives of its own people. We have all lost something precious to this horrifying blight - our safety, our innocence, our loved ones.

Many of us have written furiously about it, spoken against it, cried over it — ran from it. And still, the apathy of the people in power is as chilling as the cold steel of a firearm, a blatant disregard that leaves us teetering on oblivion.

Despite everything we have done, more bullets claim us.

But recently, I’ve found some of my faith in ending gun violence rekindled. Largely thanks to my dear friend, Saira Rao, and the Here 4 The Kids movement.

A few weeks ago, my wife Porsche and I had dinner with Saira at a dimly lit restaurant in Manhattan's East Village. We were excited to see her, as sharing time with Saira is always a gift. She is a beacon of change, who occupies countless roles — a best-selling author, television producer, political activist, wife, and mother. All of which give her a rare wealth of wisdom, which she combines with an innate vision for change.

The evening did not disappoint. It was alive with the hum of conversation and clinking of cutlery, a perfect soundtrack as we reconnected with our friend.

As the waiter took our order, we found ourselves already delving into a weighty dialogue about the state of U.S. It was obvious the waiter was taken aback from overhearing the startling truths, the glaring inequities, and the potential for change we were discussing. There was no dilution of discomforting realities, no softening of hard edges. Which is typical for us.

Eventually, our discourse found its way to the topic of gun violence. The daily pings of phone notifications carrying tales of fresh bloodshed from some corner of the United States. Images of sobbing parents, their grief imprinted in our minds. Weekly videos of people fleeing scenes of pandemonium created by whizzing bullets. We all acknowledged the chilling reality: if this course remains the same, nowhere will ever be safe again.

It was then that Saira disclosed an idea that had been brewing among her and a few others. She explained that a small group of women was going to call upon Colorado's Governor, Jared Polis, to put pen to an Executive Order to put a dent in gun violence. The order would create a statewide ban on guns, along with a program for buying them back. Saira said their audacious plan was to stage a sit-in involving over 25,000 white women from across the country on the morning of Monday, June 5th in Denver, Colorado.

They believe if they can get Governor Polis to take the moral action of saving lives with this Executive Order, political leaders from other states will follow.

She told us that the effort was being steered by Black, brown, indigenous, and other women of color, drawing inspiration from the 600 Black civil rights leaders who dared to walk from Selma to Montgomery back in 1965. Amongst other historic efforts. But the Here 4 The Kids movement would specifically be calling upon white women to leverage their white privilege and stand alongside marginalized communities, to lend their bodies to the cause as communities such as BIPOC, LGBTQIA+, non-citizens, and disabled people whose bodies are often on the front lines, have done and continue to do.

I must confess, mine and Porsche’s initial reactions were of doubt. And so we committed ourselves to what we thought would be most helpful: inquiry.

Pricking the balloon a bit.

As we discussed the budding movement, we spotlighted gaps, drew attention to the possible pitfalls of their plans, forewarned inconsistencies, and underscored the chance for failures. The largest sticking point was whether white women would rise to the occasion. In her work, Saira holds a mirror to white women, reflecting the potential for their better selves, possibilities that are as alluring as they are daunting. She has changed many hearts and minds in the realms of white privilege and supremacy. But will enough of them, nestled within the bosom of comfortability, meet the demands of this movement?

We are both still unsure.

White women, historically, have held a curious place on the spectrum of social change. They have been both champions of progress and its Achilles' heel, demonstrating an ability to muster their privilege for the betterment of society while simultaneously often serving as pillars of systemic discrimination. As an example of this, look no further than their support for Donald Trump in both the 2016 and 2020 presidential elections. This dichotomy is at the root of our concern as to whether Here 4 The Kids should be so deeply bound to them.

But Saira, unwavering Saira, deeply believes. Every question we posed, a response stood ready. The instances she couldn’t immediately reconcile with an answer, the resolve and faith in her eyes stepped forward in her stead. And then, in a moment that seemed to freeze time, her gaze locked onto Porsche's and mine, as she declared, "I believe this will work. Children can’t even safely leave their homes anymore. This has to work."

Her conviction, her certainty, hung in the air, a declaration weighty with the dire urgency of the task ahead. And, as the words fell between us, our skepticism receded, replaced by something approaching belief. Perhaps their plan will yield the fruits of success, or perhaps it would shrivel on the vine. In either case, the weight of our support would be fully thrown.

In that moment, I think we both came to a realization: we are not always afforded the luxury to be strategic idealists, to dissect and scrutinize each angle, every nuance of a plan, carefully crafting blueprints to ensure victory. We are also rarely in control of who the messenger must be for the message to be heard. Sometimes, we must instead surrender to pure idealism. Unadulterated dreamers, visionaries with hearts ablaze and hands poised for action. Placing our bets not only on the likelihood of triumph but on the nobility of the cause. Times when we must gamble on the simple, fundamental premise of morality.

Because that’s what hope is, and right now, the United States needs hope.

In the weeks that have since followed, I've watched, somewhat awestruck, as the movement has gained momentum, even as the grim news of mass shootings has continued to punctuate our days. White women are heeding the call, thousands have registered to show up in Denver on June 5th, journeying from all over the country. Content about the movement is flooding social media, posted by women from various walks of life. The effort is being covered in print and on television. And the small group of women who began with a bold idea has metamorphosed into an entire organization with logistical operations and leadership structure, which includes people I respect deeply, such as Tina Strawn, myisha t hill, and Jo Lorenz.

To put it plainly, things seem to be going even better than planned.

Still, a restless apprehension continues to churn within me concerning the success of the movement. The unease about this effort is not rooted in the capable individuals at its helm, nor does it arise from the multitudes of women who will assemble in Denver. Instead, my apprehension is anchored elsewhere.

I am apprehensive because they are challenging political leaders who sit ensconced in the ivory towers of authority to act in ways that are daring, bold, and historical. They are demanding them to peer over the edge of the customary, to venture into uncharted territory where the safety nets of precedent and policy do not exist.

These are individuals who've navigated their way through the corridors of power, often choosing the safe over the right, the expedient over the fair. Here 4 The Kids is asking them to shed their armor of predictability, their cloaks of self-preservation, and to stand exposed in the winds of change. Asking them to save lives.

It is the audacity of that demand that stirs the waters of my concern. For it is no small thing to ask those in power to surrender their comfort for the greater good, to trade the solid ground of the known for the shifting sands of moral progress. But it is precisely this audacity that makes the endeavor worthy. For it is only in the audacious that we find the seeds of real change.

So, yes, I am nervous. The stakes are high, the challenge Herculean. But within that nervousness, within that trepidation, I also find a sense of excitement. Because what's important is that there's a chance, however slim it might be. But I know, if it fails, it won't be because they didn't try hard enough. It will be because those in positions of power lacked the moral courage to put our children's safety before their own interests.

For my part, I am determined to exert all my efforts to nudge them towards making the right choice. To save children. I can't help but feel a surge of pride for Saira and Here 4 The Kids, for their courage, for their dedication to this cause. Which is why I urge everyone to learn more about Here 4 The Kids and find a way to lift their efforts here: https://here4thekids.com

It is a gamble of extraordinary stakes, yet isn't that the essence of transformation—to wager against the odds, armed with nothing but the strength of conviction and the audacity of hope? Believing that if pushed, people will choose to do the right thing. The moral thing.

Saira said — "This will work." — watching Here 4 The Kids mobilize strangers into sisters against gun violence, I find myself believing that she just might be right.