Ever since Jon died, sharing the message about gun safety has become personal. I never wanted to be an activist, and I’m not certain that I am one. If my story saves one person from death, then I’ve hit my target.
My target is responsibility. We can all be responsible, and we all have a right to our choices when they’re responsible ones. Many activists I’ve met seem to have another target. They preach tolerance of all diversity — except for tolerating the gun owners whom they disagree with. People choose ownership of guns, something that I accept and respect. But judgement seems to be a prerequisite for gun control. I meet activists who close down the conversation they truly want to have. I hope it’s a conversation they want to have; maybe they don’t.
I try a neutral approach. I try not to have judgements about the reasons for what people do. I’ve chosen to make my gun-loving audience a part of my conversations, instead of alienating them. This wasn’t easy at first. I had to dig deeply into the gun culture, reading books about it, going to gun ranges, and most importantly, investigating by talking to gun owners. My son Lance is part of the reason I dig deep. He’s an avid owner. Not every family has a Lance to help them listen and grow.
I’ve spent my time learning how a gun works. At a range I was taught how to load, unload, and secure a gun with a cable gun lock. I became good enough at it that a TV reporter reached out to me and asked to film a demonstration for her audience. I’m also the person who volunteers to teach this when I table at an event. Recently, at the Women’s March — yes, female gun ownership has grown rapidly since the pandemic — one woman asked me, “Can you show me how to secure my gun with this cable?”
My nonprofit gives away cable gun locks for free. Everyone who stops at our table is asked if they own a gun, and if they do, we ask them if they need a gun lock. Not long ago, I was talking with another gun owner when I heard Gyl, the director of Texas Gun Sense, say, “Leesa, this lady needs you to explain how the gun lock works.”
The woman waited patiently while I finished with someone else at the table. “Does it work for all guns?” the woman asked as she rocked her toddler in a stroller.
I said it did, pulling out the lock’s instruction pamphlet from one of the pockets of my desktop display on the table. I used it to show her how the cable can be laced through ejection ports or the barrel of autoloading pistols, revolvers, and rifles. I’m a visual learner, so I like the pictures the best.
At the table we offer Lock Arms swag, and swag from our partners: t-shirts, stickers, book bags, sling bags, earbuds, pencils, notepads, and more. Swag is free, of course. I have great partners like Texas Gun Sense, the Department of Public Safety, and Austin Public Health to help send the safety message with their swag. I’m after the National Shooting Sports Foundation to get me some swag to share. It’s taking awhile, but they’re closer to coming around. It makes me question their messaging. It’s a process, gathering these allies.
The gun lock instruction is a part of our groundwork, the education we do. At an event near the University of Texas campus, National Night Out, a freshman student stopped by my booth. At my table I have lots of giveaways besides gun locks. The booth is a magnet that draws in these young adults. We encourage them to be walking advertisements for safety by wearing one of our t-shirts. We even get mascots like UT’s Hook ‘Em involved.
The UT student that stopped by was a young Hispanic girl. Her dad wants her to get a gun. “I’m scared to,” she said.
She then explained why. She didn’t have any gun training, either to shoot or for gun safety. She loved her dad but felt he wasn’t the right person to teach her. “I want someone with more experience.” I think she might also have wanted someone who made safety with the gun as important as her personal safety. Gun training courses that I’ve taken don’t cover safety enough. Safety could be a separate class altogether
If only all new gun owners could think the way the student did. I was surprised that she trusted me to advise her. I gave her information about the Department of Public Safety’s gun safety webpages, then suggested a few gun ranges and gun shops to contact about training classes.
I’ve felt many disappointments as a gun safety advocate, but when I meet parents and students at these tables, it revitalizes my hope. Right before she walked away, she said, “I’m going to get fully trained before I buy a gun.” I smiled like a proud mother — and I told her to wear the Lock Arms t-shirt as proudly as she wears University of Texas’s burnt orange. They’re in educational institutions already. Gun safety is something we can all teach. Wearing a shirt shows what you stand for, even if it’s something as simple as team spirit. Some of those students tell me that ours is their favorite t-shirt.
