Where Are The Superheroes?
I’m going to get heavy, so if you’re in the mood for a laugh, come back next week. Last week’s shooting in the Aurora, CO movie theater, during the premier of “The Dark Knight Rises,” has created a myriad of discussions about gun control. While I understand that argument, and agree with it, I think we are looking at this wrong.
Let me be very clear. I don’t like guns. I am all in favor of gun control. I would like us to have the strictest controls in the world when it comes to guns. In fact, if you’re not military or law enforcement, I’d really prefer you not own a gun, Constitution aside. But I don’t believe that the issue here is just stricter gun control.
I believe the issue is that people need to take care of each other better. I am a mother, a daughter, a wife, a friend. I have ties that bind me to many others around me. It is my responsibility to take care of my children. Regardless of how old they are, I need to know where they are, what they’re doing, what they’re thinking. The parents who say their kids don’t talk to them—they’re not asking the right questions. The parents who raise their hands in exasperation or roll their eyes helplessly—they need to take a breath and re-engage. Whether my child is five, 15 or 45, I have a responsibility to him or her. I can’t just bring them into the world and release them into society for everyone else to handle. I’m sorry, but parents ARE responsible for their children. And that responsibility does not end when they are of legal age. There has to be a happy medium between the helicopter parent and the negligent one.
My parents are young enough that I don’t have to take care of them yet. But I do have to remain involved in their lives, to maintain that connection with them, not just to check up and make sure they’re okay (which is really important) but to model for my own children the importance of family responsibility. My job is to keep those family bonds strong. And you know what? My parents are the first ones to tell me when they think I’m doing something wrong, making the wrong choice, or making them proud. My being an adult has not absolved them of involvement in my life.
My husband, while not my responsibility per se, is someone I love more than anyone else in the world. What kind of a wife would I be if I didn’t know when he is troubled, stressed, tired, happy? I promised to love him for better or for worse—it’s understood that I need to pay attention to that “better” or “worse” and be there for support, encouragement, love. Just as he is always there for me. If there were something wrong with me and I refused to help myself, I hope he would step in and try to get it for me.
And my friends? Well, I may not be the best one ever, but I try really hard. I try to keep up with their lives, to know what they like or don’t like, to realize when they need a shoulder to cry on or someone to make them laugh. I do, occasionally, express my opinions unasked, but they know it’s because I care. And they do the same for me.
Sometimes, all that responsibility means we have to be willing to be the bad guy. We have to turn someone in, report the bully, ask for help with someone or something. We have to recognize our own weaknesses and make sure others are there to double up on that protection. We must stand up for someone weaker than we are, offer help to those who need it, and swallow our pride, shame and embarrassment in order to do the right thing.
People who say that we need better gun control laws are right. But if that’s the only thing anyone takes away from this tragedy, then they are taking the easy way out. It’s so much easier to blame a lack of stringent laws, because no one has to take personal responsibility for the gunman’s actions. Parents, friends and family should have seen signs that he was disturbed or recognized potential trouble. No one is perfect, and nothing can be stopped 100%. But if no one recognized the signs, or if people ignored that niggling feeling that something wasn’t right, then they are just as guilty as weak gun laws for failing to stop this tragedy.
I don’t mean to imply that the blame for this horrible incident lies at the feet of the perpetrator’s parents. Their suffering is inconceivable. There is no one thing we can point our finger to and say, “that’s the reason.” There does come a time in a child’s life when we have to let them find their wings and soar or sink on their own. That’s how they learn. But we can’t cut the ties completely. No one can, or should. We have to remain connected, even if only from a distance. We need to form that village to raise our children (while appointing ourselves as mayor), reach out, step up, butt in.
We are so willing to take credit and boast when our children do something well, when we know someone famous, when we were there when something incredible happens. The flip side of that is we have to be willing to take responsibility when things go wrong—even horribly wrong.
Our jobs as humans are to be superheroes. Superheroes are not perfect—Superman had his kryptonite; Batman was vulnerable without his armor; Spiderman underestimated his foes and lacked foresight. But superheroes felt a responsibility to the rest of society and an urge to protect others. They acted on those feelings and urges. And when united, they were virtually unstoppable.
Yes, gun laws need to be strengthened. But more so than that, and more immediately especially, is people need to remember that we have a responsibility to one another. We are not living in a bubble and we cannot coast on the comfort that the distance of social media provides us. We have to interact with each other, work with one another, defend each other and help each other.
Only then will we truly be safe and protected.
