A Generation Triggered

It took my three friends and I over two hours to get through security, but we didn’t mind. We expected long lines and careful inspection at every entrance to Central Park. At age fourteen, this was the first time we’d gone un-chaperoned to the Global Citizens Festival, an annual music festival that takes over Central Park and attracts tens of thousands of visitors. We were excited to see our favorite stars perform, and waiting in a long line to pass the security checkpoint seemed like a small price to pay.

Four hours later, we’d danced to Shawn Mendes, posted Instagram photos of Cardi B, and sung along to John Legend. Hungry and tired, we decided it was time to grab some food and head home.

We were on our way out of the great lawn, heading towards the food tents, when we saw a frenzied crowd of people running towards the east exit of the park. Though I could not quite make out what the people were screaming, my first thought was the presence of an active shooter. What came next can only be described as a blur. I remember becoming one with the panicked crowd, passing by cops taking out their guns and putting on bulletproof vests. I can still feel the adrenaline that coursed through my veins. And I will never forget the sounds of teenagers telling their parents that they loved them over the phone. It felt frightening, shocking, and most of all, undeniably real.

So you can imagine my surprise when I received a text from my mom twenty minutes later, assuring me that I was in no real danger. The sound of gunshots was actually just a barrier that had fallen. At that point, I was out of the park, in the safety of a friend’s apartment, and my breath had begun to steady. I was glad that no one was hurt, but I was confused as to how something so trivial as a fence falling could trigger such hysteria. Upon further reflection that night, I realized the answer was simple.

It’s 2018 and Americans have grown accustomed to the ever-growing frequency of mass shootings around the country. Whether we hear about it on the news, read about it on the front page, or even know someone affected by a tragedy, nearly all of us are acquainted with the familiar feeling of “It happened again.” For many, this is accompanied by the worry that a similar tragedy could hit close to home. We have become a society on edge. We are almost convinced that it’s only a matter of time before it’s going to happen to us. Anything out of the ordinary — a loud sound, a power failure, even the presence of what we perceive to be too much security ­– is enough to propel us into panic. It seems we have a new normal, and it’s causing us all to react in ways people may have never imagined just a generation ago.

Maybe it’s a result of my experience at the Global Citizens Festival, or maybe it’s simply a result of seeing countless mass shootings making headlines, but I am certainly more aware of the potential for a shooting than I ever was before. When I am in public spaces like train stations or malls, I cannot stop my mind from pondering the what-ifs. There have been countless subway rides where any loud sound is enough to make my breath quicken and my heart pound. And like most students across the nation, I have questioned my safety several times at school.

I won’t equate my experience to that of an actual shooting survivor. Though the event felt real at the time, I only had to endure twenty minutes of uncertainty before my panic was assuaged by the assurance of a false alarm. Having experienced the lasting effects of that night, I can only imagine the emotional consequences endured by a true survivor of a mass shooting.

I wonder how my generation will be effected by these tragedies that have become such a regular part of our childhood. Perhaps every generation has their version of a mass shooting crisis. My grandparents huddled in bomb shelters in the 1950’s. My parents and their classmates hid under desks every time an untraceable prankster called in a threat. Is this any different? Will I be part of a nation of adults who have become desensitized to violence? Will my peers and I have an altered expectation of mortality? Are these the ramifications of an entire generation being raised in a national environment of frequent mass shooting incidents?

I know I’m not the only teenager asking these questions. Maybe the solution will come when my generation grows up. When we are the change-makers, maybe those of us who have never known a world without this insanity will finally put an end to the violence.