On February 14th, over 3,000 students went to school expecting to go to class and chat with their friends in the hallway. They went to school expecting to do the things that characterize nearly every normal high school experience. That day was anything but normal. Instead, seventeen students were shot at the hands of their own classmate.
Just two months after this tragedy, the Parkland students have emerged as resilient leaders. These young adults have overcome trauma, grief, and tremendous loss to organize one of the largest youth protests since the Vietnam War.
This march has reminded me to recognize and respect the voice of American youth.
Politicians wag their fingers at students, telling us that that we should stay out of politics. Some say that students should learn CPR (https://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/us_5ab7cb36e4b008c9e5f87731) instead of protesting gun violence. Some media personalities are “tired” ( https://twitter.com/KTHopkins/status/968573921187516416?s=19) of the shouting and wonder why this country would allow “upset children” make big decisions on gun control.
We certainly shouted during the rally. “Vote them out!” we said. “This is what democracy looks like!” we said. “Enough is enough!” we said.
They say that young people do not have a place in politics, but we created a place for ourselves.
Students have fought on behalf of immigrants, minorities and women for decades. Now with March for Our Lives, students spoke for their friends who belonged to any one of these groups and died from senseless gun violence.
Some may say that this march was made up of students who simply wanted an excuse to yell at politicians and would give themselves a pat on the back for making a difference. That’s not what I saw.
I met one of the speakers at the Tallahassee March for Our Lives, Ronny Ahmed, who was a victim of a shooting that happened at my own university, Florida State. I see the result of that shooting every day when I swipe my FSU ID to gain entry into the library.
The gunman left Ahmed paralyzed and with limited mobility in his right arm. He tried to lobby at the Capitol after his own dealing with gun violence, but he was met with apathy. He fought for gun control years before this movement, but politicians didn’t listen. This march forced them to listen.
I had the privilege of talking with Marjory Stoneman Douglas students myself, when they visited Tallahassee to talk to state representatives about gun control reform.
I talked with young women who looked and acted like any other teenager. But they experienced trauma that I hopefully will never have to experience in my lifetime.
I stared at the cafeteria of students, and it was so difficult for me to picture that day. Some ran for their lives, huddled with their teachers inside closets, witnessed their friend be shot, and watched someone they once shared a classroom with firing an AR-15 rifle. I was struggling to imagine this scenario, but it is their reality. I marched for all the survivors I saw that night.
Fast forward one month, and I was standing at the steps of the Old Capitol. March for Our Lives Tallahassee was the second political action I have ever taken-the first was only a month prior. For a long time, I was disillusioned by politics. I discovered that the results of presidential elections were often decided well-financed middlemen in the electoral colleges. But feeling the rebellious spirit of the march made me believe in American democracy. The march reminded me how much power I had, and how much power local and state elections have. We threatened to use American democracy against politicians if they turned their back on public safety.
Yes, I will look up the names of the state representatives who take money from the National Rifle Association and voted down the assault weapons ban. Yes, I will vote them out.
An Article by Jordan Anderson
CollegePost 