My Right to Bear Arms


I’ve been reading news accounts of the “Restore the Constitution” (a.k.a. Tea Party: Now with More Guns!) rally that took place in Northern Virginia yesterday.

Part of me is terrified, and the other is indignant.

I don’t know enough about the gun debate to have any kind of informed opinion about the subject. I’m not a gun owner, nor was I raised in a household that encouraged gun ownership.

But based on the profile of gun owners being portrayed in the media (e.g., paranoid and mentally unstable White supremacists who can’t spell), I’m curious to know why the NRA hasn’t pushed back and started its own viral campaign about the diversity of gun owners in America.

When I see coverage of these rallies, I want to see images of a middle-aged soccer mom proudly displaying her holstered handgun at her 10-year old’s game. I want to see a Catholic priest cleaning his pistol (no euphemism intended) while listening to a parishioner’s confession. I want to see a drag queen diva fashionably brandishing an AK-47 on her back as she belts out a soul-stirring lip synched rendition of “I Will Survive.”

I recall a cutaway on Family Guy a few years ago that envisioned the founding fathers trying to clarify what the “right to bear arms” was intended to mean—the right to own and proudly display a pair of bear claws above one’s mantle.

If we all have the right to bear arms, why don’t we all have them?


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