☕️Deep Brew | Numbness Isn’t an Option

How Moms Can Lead the Charge on Gun Violence and Civic Action

Sep 05, 2024

September 4, 2024. My phone buzzed with yet another alert: Four lives taken at a Georgia high school. I stared at the headline... and felt nothing. No shock. No tears. Just… nothing.

I remember a time when I wasn’t like this. December 14, 2012. Twenty children. Six educators. Murdered in their classroom. I wasn’t a mother yet, but oh, I remember the horror. It wasn’t just sadness; it was physical. I wanted to throw up. Each little face, every eulogy... more unbearable than the last. The thought of those children, in their final moments, and the unimaginable grief their families would carry—forever. It crushed me. It felt like the world should stop. Like this—this would be the moment everything changed.

But nothing changed.

Then came Parkland. Uvalde. Roseburg. Nashville. Oxford. East Lansing. Tragedy after tragedy. Outrage flared, then faded. And was replaced by this eerie, uncomfortable silence. Each time, my heart broke.

But this time? As yesterday’s news scrolled across my phone, it was different. No gut-punch, no tightness in my chest. Just a strange indifference. Sad? Sure. But that deep, soul-crushing pain I’d felt years ago was missing. It’s as if the constant tragedies have trained us to stop feeling, to accept the unacceptable. And isn’t that the scariest part? When did we all become so numb to this nightmare?

The Trap of Numbness

One thing I know for sure: Numbness isn’t the answer. Because when we go numb, we lose our humanity. Numbness is spitting “thoughts and prayers” into the eyes of every parent who wants nothing less than justice. Numbness is when we stop seeing these tragedies for what they are—real lives, real families, real horror, shattered in an instant. Numbness lets the cycle continue. We become passive. Spectators. We forget that our voices—our actions—can demand change.

Friends, we can’t afford to be numb. Not for these children, not for their families, and certainly not for ourselves. Safety should never be a privilege—it should be a right.

But how do we make that happen when every day brings a new crisis—another headline about a school shooting or a war across the globe? We feel pulled in every direction, overwhelmed by everything we can’t control. It’s easy to feel powerless when faced with an endless stream of tragedy, especially when the problems seem too big to solve. But what if we’re wrong about being powerless?

The headlines beat on:

It’s everywhere. Every day, there’s a new crisis. A fresh wave of devastation. And if you’re like me, it tugs at your heart, shakes your faith in humanity. It feels overwhelming—like trying to stop a tidal wave with your bare hands. And with all of the everyday stuff—work, kids, practices, school—piling on? Well, it’s easy to push these tragedies aside for another day.

We justify it—"What can I really do?" The problems are massive. Too big. Too complex. It’s easy to feel powerless. But what if—what if we’re wrong?

The Cycle of Tragedy: How Do We Break It?

After Sandy Hook, we had hope, didn’t we? There was this palpable sense that this—this was the tragedy that would finally push us to act. “This is our first task—caring for our children. If we don’t get that right, we don’t get anything right.” Those were President Obama’s words in his passionate address at the Sandy Hook Vigil, urging us to face the uncomfortable truth that, as a nation, we weren’t doing enough to protect our kids. It seemed impossible that we’d let this moment pass without some kind of real change.

But time went on. Gun control stalled.

The same thing happened after Parkland in 2018. Seventeen lives, gone. And then the students—God bless them—created March for Our Lives, refusing to stay silent. They screamed for change. And yet—no sweeping national reform. In fact, it wasn’t until Uvalde in 2022 that Congress passed the Bipartisan Safer Communities Act. It was the first significant federal gun reform in almost three decades. This was our glimmer of hope. But still, it feels like a drop in the ocean compared to the mountain we’re facing. And here we are, again, September 5, 2024, starting another school year with blood on our hands.

And beyond the schools, the violence just keeps coming. Night after night. Ukraine. Sonya Massey in Illinois. Every story gut-wrenching. Every headline demanding our attention, making us feel like we should be fighting on every front—gun reform, human rights, justice for survivors.

But here’s the truth we hate to admit: We can’t be everywhere. None of us can.

Refer a friend

So, Where Do We Begin?

We have to start somewhere. My advice? Choose the issue that pulls at your heartstrings, commit to it, and dive deep – real deep. That’s where real change begins.

This week, I taught a class at The Ohio State University on the history of nonprofit organizations. We looked at how the American nonprofit sector has deep roots in ancient religious teachings—Hinduism, Buddhism, Christianity, Islam—all carrying forward a message of compassion and giving. We studied icons like Andrew Carnegie, who shaped modern philanthropy, and Jane Addams and Madame CJ Walker, whose work transcended industries and deeply impacted their communities.

And you know what struck me most? Values. Every movement—every leader—was grounded in values. These leaders—whether they were wealthy industrialists or everyday moms like Shannon Watts, founder of Moms Demand Action—had a deep sense of what they stood for. They let their values shape how they showed up in the world.

The Power of Everyday People

Take Madame CJ Walker. She didn’t set out to be a social justice warrior. She built a business, yes. But she wove her values into every corner of that business. She wasn’t just chasing financial success—she used her influence to uplift Black women and fight for their rights at a time when they were silenced.

And

Shannon Watts

? She wasn’t a professional activist. She didn’t have a degree in nonprofit leadership or public policy. She was a stay-at-home mom who, after Sandy Hook, felt she had no choice but to act. She started a Facebook group from her kitchen table, and it grew into Moms Demand Action—a national movement that has since helped pass stronger gun laws in states across the country.

What’s the common thread? Leading with values. Figures like Andrew Carnegie, Jane Addams, and Martin Luther King Jr. didn’t just act—they acted with intention and conviction. Carnegie, though complex, believed the wealthy had a moral obligation to give back. Addams and King were driven by their deep commitment to justice and equality. They showed up for their communities, fueled by the belief that they were working toward something larger than themselves.

So, How Do You Find Your Starting Point?

Let me ask you this:

What breaks your heart? Think back to a moment when you were deeply moved by an injustice. Maybe it was the sight of a polluted river. Maybe it was the story of a school shooting. Or a conversation with a survivor of abuse. That’s where your passion lies. What shakes you? What’s too painful to ignore?
What future do you want to help create? Picture the world 20 years from now. What do you want it to look like for your children, your neighbors, even the people you’ll never meet? Cleaner air? Safer schools? A society that values equality? Envision the change you want to be part of.
What values guide your life? Whether they stem from your faith, your personal philosophy, or your lived experiences—dig into the principles that shape your worldview. These are the values that will ground you in your work.

Sip by Sip: How You Can Show Up for Your Community

Now, I’m not saying you’ll become the next Madame CJ Walker overnight (though if you do, let me know—I’ll help you with that corporate social responsibility strategy). But what I am saying is this: Spend time reflecting on your values. Think about the issues that matter most to you. Let those reflections guide you. It’s through this process that you’ll find clarity on where to start, and more importantly, how to stay committed. Because, again, I’ll repeat this until the cows come home—civic wellness isn’t a destination; it’s a daily practice. It’s the choice to stay engaged, even when it feels overwhelming. It’s a lifelong commitment to showing up for the causes that matter to you—whether that’s volunteering in your local community, organizing a march, or just having difficult conversations with people who think differently. It’s showing up now.

We can’t be everywhere. None of us can. But by intentionally selecting one or a few issues that grip your heart, committing to them, and digging deep, you can make a lasting impact.

So, find your place. Find your cause. Choose to act—sip by sip, step by step. Real change is rooted in the actions of everyday people who refuse to be numb. Even small, local actions—organizing a community event, writing a letter to your representative, mentoring someone—can spark bigger movements.

We can’t afford to look away anymore. Not when lives are on the line.

The Advocate Next Door

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