I stand on a single, rickety, red bench looking out over the grassy field. Behind me on the shining silver bleachers there are 17 backpacks spread out in a line. My fingers are frozen as I look down to read the sign I’m clutching.
“Protect kids, not guns!”
Then, I look to my left and it’s a sight to behold. A stream of students are slowly making their way up to the football field where I and the other speakers stand. Students of every size, shape, color, and creed are flooding out of the building that we once felt was safe. Students of all sorts decided to walk out.
When the blaring bullhorn gets everyone quiet, the speakers begin. First, a senior with the task of telling everyone why we’re here today. Then another girl reads three names. Then I do.
Those three names will forever be engraved into my head. Their faces. What they did. What they did in both life and death.
All of their names. All of their faces. I see little six-year olds waving goodbye to their moms and dads on the bus to school. I see fourteen year olds reluctantly hugging their parents goodbye in the morning, and then never hugging them again. I see seventeen and eighteen year olds with their whole lives ahead of them, only to have them snatched away in an instant.
All of these people, all of these children that we lost… we lost because of one thing. Guns. It always comes back to guns. It comes back to assault rifles, assault rifles in the hands of mentally ill eighteen year olds. Yes, we can blame mental illness. We can blame bullying, society, and the individual who was behind the gun. But that individual is powerless without the gun itself.
I walked out because I believe we need stricter gun legislation. I walked out because I believe I can have a voice and make a change. I walked out because I’m scared that I will be murdered in the halls of my school.
Schools are supposed to be safe. And we can make them safe. It just always comes back to the guns.
Protect kids, not guns.
Protect transwomen, not guns.
Protect black lives, not guns.
Protect life, not guns.
5 replies on “The Walkout”
Kiley, I am a friend of your grandmother and though I’ve never met you, I am so happy and proud to know that all is not lost and that YOU and your generation will hopefully enable this nation to become a safer, saner place for all. YOU are a tiger!!! Go get ’em…
Kiley, your grandmother’s friend here again because I don’t think my little check mark in the “notify me of future posts” was actually checked and I want to make sure I’m aware when you posts your thoughts…so, I’m making this comment only to make sure the box IS checked
I’m so proud of you for being the person you are! This experience and others like it will empower you.
May we be so lucky as to keep hearing your voice and others like yours.
A GREAT article, Kiley! Keep up the good work. It seems today’s youth is our country’s only hope to return to our pre-Trump days of grace and eloquence!