I’m sharing some painful memories, which are offered to illustrate, rather than to offend. Please forgive the coarse language I’ve quoted. It was common “back in the day.” Thankfully, those days were long ago.
After school one day, my brother told our mother a classmate called him a “kite.” Our teachers told us, “Sticks and stones can break our bones, but words will never hurt us,” and the phrase, “I’m rubber, and you’re glue. Whatever you say bounces off me, and sticks to you,” was offered in reply to bullying and name-calling.
My mother replied, “Tell him he’s uncouth.”
The next day, my brother told Mom his antagonist had had gotten him in trouble by telling their teacher my brother called him a “coon.” Mom calmly explained that “kyke” was a derogatory name for a Jew, and “coon,” was an equally insulting name for an African American. At that time, African Americans were still called “colored people,” and “Negroes.”
It’s important to mention that our father was a Jew. Our mother wasn’t. The little boy hurling the racial slurs was white.
My mother was in a difficult situation, because our family was vulnerable, but Mom never permitted others’ prejudice to intimidate her. We learned to ignore the taunts and not to engage with the provocateurs. Fifty years ago, when words were the weapons, rather than guns, that was the appropriate response.
I wish I could end this essay, here, but I need to add an explicit conclusion.
More guns is not the appropriate response.