Tony Grist
This is the second of several student gun range field trip reflection essays from my fall 2024 Sociology of Guns seminar. The assignment to which students are responding can be found here. I am grateful to these students for their willingness to have their thoughts shared publicly.
Previously posted reflection from Fall 2024 are available here: Reflection #1.
Reflections from previous semesters of Sociology of Guns are available HERE.
By Alex Mojica
The exhilaration that came with shooting guns with a group of people I barely knew made me sympathetic to US gun culture. I didn’t know anyone in my group well; I had only had a few classes with each other but had never talked outside of those. For some reason, however, it was incredibly easy to bond over our shared hesitation with shooting and the thrill of hitting the target. Even though I don’t know any of them very well, I felt like I was on the same page with the other three throughout the visit to Mocksville. As we chatted about the drive into the North Carolina country, the frightening boom of the gun, and our limited experiences shooting guns with each other, I realized I was entering this visit–and the class itself–with profound common ground.
The common ground I think I share with my peers is multi-faceted. I think many people in the class are, in a broad sense, afraid of guns. I think this is for a good reason. All of us are growing up in a period of American history where school shootings are mundane. As a result, I would think many would be hesitant to express an overt admiration for US gun culture. However, it extends beyond fear. I was happy when I was able to hit the target and found myself cheering for my peers when it was their turn to shoot. I realized that guns don’t just signify the beginning of a disaster, but also a tradition or team-bonding experience.
When I returned to Wake and shared my journey to the range with a few close friends, they didn’t share my excitement. It seemed like they heard the word “gun” and checked out for the rest of the story. To them, the idea of having fun with guns wasn’t registering. To be fair, most of my close friends are introverted and probably wouldn’t have signed up for a discussion-based class about guns in the first place. However, even my most extroverted friends found it shocking and confusing that we started class this way.
I have mixed feelings about being excited at the range. On one hand, I think it’s natural. Our generation, while growing up with school shootings, also grew up with Call of Duty and Fortnite. It doesn’t seem unreasonable that the real-life experience would generate a similar affect and excitement. Further, I’m not sure this phenomenon is unique to Gen-Z. When my parents tell me stories of their childhood, they talk about playing dodgeball or slinging rocks with slingshots at each other. Those things aren’t the same as shooting a gun, but in the back of my head I’ve assumed those things are fun for the same reason a first person shooter or actual shooting experience could be enjoyable.
On the other hand, I don’t know if this natural disposition to enjoy the range is good. I mean this in the broadest way possible: as I enter the second week of this class, I have no idea what’s to be done with gun policy or gun culture. So, I’m inclined to withhold my judgment about cultures and relationships built around guns. For now, I’m starting to realize why it might be so hard for the US to let go of guns. Decades of social change, political evolution, and violence are built around it–it’s almost like reforming access to them would radically change the US’s social landscape.
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