What I learned as a white woman in the gun safety movement

To end gun violence, Black women don't need us to be allies - they need us to be traitors

This week I read an article in the Washington Post about a “lifelong Republican” gun owner and parent of a Covenant School shooting survivor who went to the Tennessee statehouse to “plead with GOP lawmakers for change.” The article quoted her as saying, “A mass shooting hit one of the most affluent neighborhoods in Nashville and a very Conservative Christian school. Affluent. Conservative. Christian. Who do they vote for? It’s up to Republicans to change history in Tennessee.”

Sadly, Tennessee Republicans haven’t changed history during the special session. And they won’t. In fact, these right-wing lawmakers have — for years — boldly sacrificed the lives of children on the altar of gun industry profits.

Tennessee’s Republican-dominated legislature has made the state a haven for gun manufacturers by giving them millions of dollars in tax breaks and then passing laws to fill their coffers. As far back as 2013, Tennessee lawmakers passed a law referred to as “guns in trunks,” allowing gun owners to carry in their cars. And as recently as 2021, at the behest of the NRA, they passed a law allowing the permitless carry of handguns.

In other words, the gun violence hell created by the GOP in Tennessee didn’t start in March – it’s been going on for years under the watch of white women and the Black community has borne the brunt of it. Black Tennesseans are three times more likely to die from a firearm than white Tennesseans. And Black men and women in Tennessee have experienced the most significant and fastest increase in firearm death rates in the past decade, with the rate of gun deaths rising 196% among Black women and 144% among Black men (as opposed to 63% among white women and 23% among white men).

And while it may sound counterintuitive, these statistics underscore why it’s so important that Republican, Christian, gun-owning white women get off the sidelines and fight for gun regulation. Not because they can change the hearts and minds of Republican lawmakers, but because the only way to deliver actual consequences for lawmakers’ inaction is to advocate and vote in solidarity with Black women.

Black women voters are among the strongest supporters of gun violence prevention measures, and Black women gun owners are more likely to favor stricter gun laws than white women who do not own guns. And while promising poll data shows Republican women voters are increasingly open to voting for stronger gun laws, too many white women voted for right-wing NRA-allies, including Donald Trump – an avowed gun extremist – in the 2020 election.

Gun violence is the leading cause of death among children and teens in America, yet white women continue to hope against hope that the same lawmakers who don’t care about a Black child’s death somewhere else in their state will somehow care about their white child’s life in their community. But history has shown Republicans only come to the table on guns when they’re worried they’ll lose their jobs if they don’t. From the red flag law that passed in Florida after the Parkland mass school shooting to the federal Bipartisan Safer Communities Act that passed after the shootings in Buffalo and Uvalde, Republicans heed polling data and then begrudgingly support gun safety laws to keep their seats.

Right now in Tennessee, Republican lawmakers believe they can act with impunity, and they’ll continue to do so until they start losing their jobs. If you want proof, look no further than the GOP lawmakers who had state troopers drag white women out of a committee hearing in Nashville for the crime of silently holding up protest signs. As Brittany Packnett Cunningham has said, “Your whiteness will not save you from what the patriarchy has in store for you.”

I say all of this as a privileged white woman who got involved in gun safety activism in 2012 after the Sandy Hook School mass shooting. I became an activist because I was afraid my kids weren’t safe in their schools. At the time, I didn’t know anything about gun violence or organizing or the legislative process, but because I was a suburban white mom in the Midwest, I was considered credible by fellow white women, the media and lawmakers. And access to my husband’s income enabled me to serve as a fulltime volunteer for over a decade.

Over the years, I made a lot of mistakes, but I’ve learned a lot, too.* Here are some of those lessons:

Acknowledge your privilege: Remind yourself constantly that Black communities – due to systemic racism, a huge power imbalance, and the right-wing agenda – are disproportionately devastated by gun violence and have been for decades. Then apply that to everything you do. Get comfortable with being quiet, being in the back, being last, being wrong.

Acknowledge your lack of knowledge: Enter the space with humility and with the willingness to listen to people who have been doing the work where they live – especially those who have been impacted by gun violence. Bring your heart and brain, but – first and foremost – your ears.

Educate yourself: The solutions you advocate for might sound great to you, but have you pressure tested them? After every mass shooting tragedy, I’ve noticed many progressive white women immediately call for an assault weapons ban. Yet data actually shows a combination of background checks, red flag laws and secure storage requirements are the most effective way to stop mass shootings, and the lowest hanging fruit politically. But if we’re talking about the gun violence that kills the vast majority of children in America – daily gun violence with handguns – we also need to look at unlocking dollars for community violence intervention programs. That doesn’t mean we don’t need an assault weapons ban, it means the solutions we advocate for must be holistic and save as many lives as possible.

Seek the input of Black women: My friend Lucy McBath is a gun violence survivor who I met just months after her son, Jordan Davis, was shot to death by a racist white man with a gun and a grudge. Lucy became a spokesperson for Moms Demand Action, and now, of course, she’s a three-term Georgia congresswoman. But back in the early days of our organization, she was concerned that most of our events were only attended by white women. She sent me a handwritten letter and candidly told me the only way we’d grow is if we made a concerted, ongoing effort to diversify our leadership, volunteer base, and agenda. Because of Lucy’s guidance and the insight of so many Black women along the way, Moms Demand Action is more diverse and vibrant today than it’s ever been. That inclusivity, in turn, makes it a more equitable and effective organization.

Partner with other mothers: When you’re at the statehouse or Capitol, look around. Is it an endless sea of white women? If you live in a mostly white suburb, I guarantee you there are communities just miles away that have grappled with the gun violence crisis for decades with very little attention. Get in your car and drive there. Uplift the work that these women have been doing. Don't assume you know what they need – ask them what they need and then follow though. Check your white saviorism at the door. Support organizations already doing the work on the ground with your money and time. Don’t just invite Black women to show up at your events; show up for the Black women and families who are feeling the most pain where they live.

Use your privilege for good: In her book “Good and Mad,” Rebecca Traister talks about an interview she did with woman of color and longtime organizer who said “…the crazy thing about working with white women is that they’re obsessed with permits. I don’t assume the state’s going to work for me. But middle-class white women assume the state is there to work for them. There’s something about going in with resources, with power, with authority and expecting the systems to work on your behalf that can actually serve [diverse women] well.” As a white woman, you’re imbued with attributes and skills that make the wheels of justice turn more quickly and smoothly – identify them and use them to benefit others.

Be in it for the long haul: One social media post, one protest, one policy won’t fix gun violence. White women have an obligation to find a piece of the work we’re passionate about and keep at it. If you’re tired, take a break. But as Alice Walker said, “Activism is my rent for living on the planet.” It should be clear by now that none of us can afford to stay on the sidelines. Get your friends involved. Engage and invest in every election cycle up and down the ballot. When you lose, do it again. Another quote from Rebecca Traister: “Losing is actually the default position when you’re coming from the margins and fighting the powerful system, so you lose a lot more than you win. In fact, one of the most crucial points of living a life in which you are correctly engaged in fighting for a better world is learning the skill of losing and continuing.”

Be brutally honest with yourself (or ask someone else to be): If you look at your life and don’t see any ways in which you may have benefitted from and/or supported the white patriarchy, you’re still in a defensive crouch. It sucks to admit we’re part of the problem! Get comfortable with the fact that it will take your entire lifetime to help dismantle what you’ve learned, absorbed and practiced. Get educated. Read books (by Black women) and take courses (check out the Critical Race and Intersectionality Summer School). You’ll make mistakes and fail spectacularly and publicly. People might call you out; they might hurt your feelings. Keep trying. You have the privilege to not be fragile and to not give up. Learn, apologize, do no harm. Rinse and repeat.

Put your ballot where your mouth is: This quote from the Washington Post article bears repeating: “A mass shooting hit one of the most affluent neighborhoods in Nashville and a very Conservative Christian school. Affluent. Conservative. Christian. Who do they vote for?” WHO DO THEY VOTE FOR? This is an important question for white women to ask ourselves, especially when November rolls around. Time and time again, too many white women vote against their own interests – and against the interests of Black women – because white supremacy is in their own interest.

For example, if you’re a white woman who voted against the Democratic gubernatorial candidate in Virginia because you were mad schools were closed during COVID, you helped elect a Republican governor who was very clear during his campaign that he was bad on both guns and race. Just imagine what could happen if white women stopped propping up a political party that’s given the United States a gun violence rate 25 times higher than our peer nations and became unapologetic, unwavering voters for our collective safety and freedoms.

At the end of the day, Black women don’t need allies – they need traitors. They need white women who are willing to betray the husbands who tell them to vote for lawmakers who enable gun violence, not placate them. They need white women willing to stand up to extremists who do nothing while kids are shot to death, not woo them. And they need white women to understand that by centering themselves and their own children, they uphold not just gun violence, but patriarchy and white supremacy, too. 

Yes, we need lawmakers in both parties to be on the right side of this issue, but that only happens when white women decide to take out their sticks and put away the carrots. The majority of lawmakers in this country are white men; white women will never cajole the extremists among them to give up their political power. We will have to take it from them, and that only happens if and when we stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Black women and leverage the collective power of our voices and votes.

*I’m sure I’m missing a lot in this list because even now – nearly 11 years after starting Moms Demand Action – I’m still learning. This is an imperfect list written by an imperfect person whose activism has been grounded in privilege. I look forward to your feedback to make this guide for white women activists as robust as possible.