Yesterday I picked up Brene’ Brown’s book Braving the Wilderness, and used it as an oracle—that is, just opened it to a page and read. My eyes popped on a quote from her father regarding automatic weapons and big guns: “You want to shoot those kinds of guns? Great! Enlist and serve.”
I, like other people, knew Brown had a spiritual bent, and so I was surprised to see her writing about guns.
Brown grew up in a hunting household.
(As did I. But I’m not a hunter, never will be unless I’m lost in the tundra and must hunt to survive. Whoops, I lost
my gun, guess I’ll have to use a stick. Oh oh,
no sticks in the tundra. I’m in deep
trouble.)
Brown’s father came from a family of
six, and Brown has twenty-four first cousins. There were a lot of mouths to
feed. Hunting and fishing were as practical and necessary as they were fun for most of them. The kids weren’t allowed to shoot a gun until
they could take it apart, clean it, and put it back together.
As a parent, she can see now that what
was equally powerful was the combination
of our family rules concerning hunting and guns.
You only shoot what’s covered on your hunting license. You absolutely could
not shoot anything you didn’t plan to eat. These rules were non-negotiable.
The children weren’t allowed to watch
any violence on TV. Brown couldn’t watch a PG movie until she was fifteen years
old. The idea of romanticizing violence was out of the question.
By fourteen
Brown had decided she had not and would never shoot a deer, and that hunting
trips were just long days in freezing
blinds and cold nights in sleeping bags. It was over for her.
The
return from the hunt, however, was like a birthday or a holiday. There
were always family and friends visiting. There was nothing better than when the hunters came back from the hunt,
and twenty or thirty people would pack into their house to process deer meat,
make tamales, tell stories and laugh.
Sounds very tribal doesn’t it?
The point to all this is that she watched the NRA go from being an organization that she
associated with safety programs, merit badges, and
charity skeet tournaments, to
something she didn’t recognize.
“Why were they positioning themselves as the people
who represented families like ours while not putting any limits or parameters
around responsible gun ownership.”
Brown casually mentioned to a group of
people that her father and she were
looking forward to teaching her son how to shoot skeet.
One woman looked horrified and said, “I’m very
surprised to hear that you’re a gun lover. You don’t strike me as the
NRA type.”
“I’m
not sure what you mean by ‘gun lover or
the NRA type,” Brown replied.
“If you’re
teaching your son to shoot, then I’m assuming you support gun
ownership and the NRA.”
Brown took a deep breath, didn’t lose
her cool, and said, ” You’re one for two on your assumptions. I do support
responsible gun ownership. I do not in any way support the NRA just because I
support responsible gun ownership.”
“With all the school shootings—I don’t
understand why you don’t support gun control,” the lady was adamant.
"No, no, and no."
The woman, and the group around her,
may have felt betrayed by Brown’s answer
on gun control, or her willingness to get into a
tough conversation. But still, and most important, she didn’t betray herself.
Brown’s book, Braving the Wilderness, is her quest for true belonging and the courage to stand alone.
Brown’s book, Braving the Wilderness, is her quest for true belonging and the courage to stand alone.
According
to Brown, ”To know you can navigate the
wilderness on your own—to know that you
can stay true to your beliefs, trust yourself, and survive it—that is true
belonging.”