On Masculinity and Gun Massacres
DP Life Writers Reflect on Yet Another Shooting
Much like the rest of the country, when the news came in about the shooting at Umpqua Community College in Roseburg, Oregon, we were devastated. Here at DP Life we often focus on our own spiritual path and the ways to find the good in life. However, we also know that the world is not the beautiful ideal that we strive toward. There is pain and unspeakable tragedy that many face on a daily basis. We aspire to bring Divine Principle to our daily life, and unfortunately that includes facing and processing these kinds of horrific events.
When we asked our writers to write a response to the shooting, we knew it would be a charged topic, but we didn’t expect that we would learn just as much from the process itself. We often edit each other’s work and offer feedback. This time, the comments were less about grammar and more about the philosophical issues. You’ll see below that a few of the writers focused on the topic of “masculinity.” Our discussion around this topic was passionate, and yet there was a level of respect, gentle guidance and active listening that helped all of us to think more deeply and come out with a better finished product. It seemed like a lesson in what is possible when we come together, and what that might look like on a larger scale.
Just as each of us is a unique expression of our Heavenly Parent, we all grieve and process in different ways. We know that there are no easy answers. At the very least, it’s an opportunity to begin that conversation—to come together, to listen and to learn. We invite you to be a part of that conversation, too.
Here’s what we had to say:
Here We Go Again
By Laurel Nakai
Almost three years ago I wrote an article about the tragic shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School. The emotion was raw. As a parent of young children, the grief felt stunningly close. Too close. I grieved alongside those families and that community, and tried to find a place of peace within myself. I engaged in conversation about gun control and mental illness. I had faith that this would be a turning point. “Never again,” we said. I don’t have to tell you about the heartbreak. I can venture to say that I don’t have to tell you about the despair either, in seeing the next waves of mass shootings stack up one after another. The chorus of “Never again” has turned into “Here we go again,” and I am furious.
I am angry that my seven-year-old has to have active shooter drills in his elementary school. I am angry that more than 10,000 Americans are killed every year by gun violence. I’m angry that our elected officials seem to throw up their hands or point fingers instead of offering solutions. I am angry at myself, for losing faith in a system that is supposed to protect its citizens and for feeling helpless. I am angry at every single article popping up in my newsfeed, regardless of the political slant, because I just can’t believe this is STILL happening.
I am angry. But I also know that the anger is part of a larger picture. It is a necessary part of the grieving process, and we are all collectively grieving. As an American and a person of faith, my biggest hope is to get to a place of love, forgiveness and meaningful action. But today I am angry. I am shaking my fists and stomping my feet and screaming as loud as I can until I make it through to the other side. I know that beneath that anger is really sadness and fear. I know that tomorrow or the next day, the anger will dissipate into that deep despair … again. And I hope, beyond everything, that we can stop saying, “Here we go again.” I hope that “Never again” can become a call to action instead of just words. I hope. Again, I hope.
Another Statistic
As we continue to digest (or rather attempt to, as such things really never ought to be digestible) the acts of violence that occurred at Umpqua, inevitably our conversations turn to how we can prevent this from happening again. Many argue for stricter gun regulation or a better infrastructure for dealing with mental illness, both of which have their valid points, but one topic seems to be mentioned far less frequently: a warped perception of masculinity.
Why are an overwhelming majority of perpetrators in mass shootings male? Why do men make up ten times as many incarcerated citizens as women, and 79% of suicide victims? And how on earth can it be possible for little boys as tender and openhearted as my own son to grow up into someone who feels the need to kill?
Fragments of the answer, I believe, can be observed in the way many boys and young men are often spoken to. “Man up,” they hear. "Crying is for girls.” After hearing words like these enough times, these little men grow up believing that if they feel sad or frustrated, reaching out for help in processing those emotions is not an option. They learn instead that exertion of power is the best way to achieve goals, and that control over others rather than cooperation with others is what to strive for.
However, our beautifully loving and wise Heavenly Parent, the source of all our very best qualities, did not design only one gender to have feelings or to need help. We all experience both of these things, and we all deserve societal permission to experience them. As a mother to (soon) two boys but also simply as a person, it’s important to me to do whatever I possibly can in helping these future men—and further, my loved ones of all genders—to never feel the need to add to those statistics.
Our Heroes
By Phil Brown
In my teenage years, I used to love old James Bond films. I remember that an independent TV station once ran a 007 marathon every weekend and I sat through all of them. Bond is a fairly standard movie hero; he always plays it cool, outwits his enemies and has the coolest gadgets, but on the other hand, he kills without remorse, sleeps around and gambles.
In retrospect, I feel this notion of a “hero” can give young boys conflicted ideas of what it means to be a man. Not only is James Bond a corrupt man, but he is also an impossible standard to replicate, because no one can be that cut off from their emotions. Growing up, I always found it important to find role models in people I met in day-to-day life, whether it be among family, friends or my church community. I always found it important to learn not only from the strengths of elder brother figures but also from the strength that they would find in their weaker moments.
James Bond is a flat character; he has no weaker moments, he’s not real. Therefore, he can’t really serve as a model for what it means to be a man. Our world is a lot more complex and richer than Bond’s, and that’s why we need to place our trust in role models from our world as opposed to his.
So what do issues of masculinity have to do with gun massacres? We live in a world that has given rise to false measures of masculinity and what it means to be a man. Mainstream films provide young men with heroic characters whom we relate to but who often commit gross acts of violence. While it’s easy to take a step back and call film scenarios fiction, the issue is that gender representation can come across as fact. When a character is presented as an idealized form of masculinity, then young and impressionable minds often can use such a character as the blueprint for their own masculinity. The danger is that we can lose touch with our original nature and what God intended us to be. While these characters express traits such as autonomy, self-confidence and boldness, they tend to use them for selfish motives. In reminding ourselves of our original nature and value, I feel we can transfer energy that is wasted on acts of violence and “macho culture” into being good fathers, brothers and sons.
The shooting at Umpqua seems to have evoked something in us all, and there's still a lot that needs to be said, felt and healed. Join in the conversation by leaving a comment below.