Excuse Me. We Are Not in 1791.

To be clear: today is May 24, 2022. Not 1791. Earlier today, there was a massacre in Uvalde, Texas, at an elementary school called Robb. As I write this, one gunman has killed at least nineteen children and two adults. Words like sad and outraged feel insufficient, almost evasive. The world feels darker tonight than it did last night.

Photo by Jason Leung on Unsplash

Earlier in the day, an email referencing George Floyd had me thinking about progress. Ten days ago, a massacre in Buffalo targeted Black Americans. Is this what we call progress? Two years ago, one white police officer killed one Black man. Today, a white young man targets Black lives in a mass shooting. Progress? If so, the word has lost all meaning.

I was already thinking about racism and the myth of progress when I learned about today’s massacre. It immediately brought me back to the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting, where twenty-six people were killed—most of them children. That was 3,448 days ago. What have we done since then? What has changed?

Nothing.

How can a nation claim progress while clinging so fiercely to intentions drafted 231 years ago?

Yes, I am talking about the Second Amendment.

Adopted in 1791 as part of the Bill of Rights, it reads:
A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.

The intention behind this amendment was not ambiguous. It was written to protect citizens from federal overreach, to ensure balance of power in a young and fragile nation. I am confident the framers were not envisioning assault weapons in elementary schools. I am equally confident they were not imagining massacres targeting children or Black Americans as “necessary to the security of a free State.”

231 years ago was a profoundly different world. For heaven’s sake, the 13th Amendment—which abolished slavery—was not ratified until 1865. We are not living in the moral or political context of 1791. Pretending otherwise is not fidelity to history; it is cowardice disguised as tradition.

We are not in 1791.
It is time to evolve.
It is time to admit that gun control is not an erosion of freedom, but a requirement for it.

A free State cannot be secured by sacrificing children. Lives must matter more than guns.

_____

Retrieve from the archive to read: It Is Okay to Be Not Okay

Comments

Curated Clutches: Tiny Bags, Big History

Before the clutch became the red-carpet punctuation mark of a gown, it had a more domestic ancestor: the reticule, a small handheld drawstring bag that emerged when women’s hidden tie-on pockets began losing their usefulness beneath slimmer, sheerer late-eighteenth- and early-nineteenth-century dresses. What had once been tucked under petticoats was suddenly carried in public, and privacy became ornament: silk, velvet, beadwork, embroidery, a little theater of necessity held in the hand. The bag was never only a container; it was a social adjustment, a concession to fashion’s old habit of taking away utility and selling it back as elegance. Yoko Ono: Music of Mind at The Broad The modern clutch came into its own in the 1920s and 1930s, when evening moved faster, dresses grew sleeker, and women needed only the glamorous minimum: powder, mirror, lipstick, perhaps money, perhaps not. Tiny dance purses, Art Deco shapes, celluloid and Bakelite, metalwork and beading turned the bag into an o...

My Last Gift to Dad Was a Do-Not-Resuscitate Order

When Dr. Moon, a pain management specialist, told me about Dad’s wish, it was not the first time I had heard it. A few days earlier, Mom had told me that Dad wanted to be transferred from the hospital to hospice. I did not quite understand what hospice meant at the time. Between that conversation with Mom and the one with Dr. Moon, I had watched Dad take about twenty steps with the support of a walker and the assistance of a physical therapist. After seeing him come out of critical condition, I took those steps as a sign of recovery. So I was surprised when Dr. Moon told me that Dad had expressed his wish to end all medical treatments and go peacefully. I had been struggling with the continuation of his medical treatment. Three days after I wrote Will Love Give Us the Courage to Let Our Dad Go? , Dad passed away peacefully, as though he had simply fallen asleep, with a morphine drip erasing the pain that had once dominated him. He was eighty years old and had spent the last six years o...

Balsamic Caramelized Brussels Sprouts

Brussels sprouts are one of those polarizing vegetables. They are either embraced or avoided with conviction. I once avoided them entirely, until I tasted them finished with balsamic glaze . The bitterness softened. The edges crisped. What had felt harsh became unexpectedly compelling. Roasted Brussels sprouts with caramelized edges, glossed in balsamic reduction and finished with brown sugar, change the equation. The exterior turns crisp and almost candied, while the centers remain tender. Sweet and acidic. Charred and balanced. While these Balsamic Caramelized Brussels Sprouts are dependable as a side dish, they hold their own as a meal in a bowl. INGREDIENTS [serves 4 as a side] one pound of Brussels sprouts, trimmed and halved balsamic glaze made from a half cup of balsamic vinegar two teaspoons of brown sugar salt and pepper to season olive oil to drizzle Preheat the oven to 400°F. Arrange the Brussels sprouts cut side down on a baking sheet lined with aluminum foil. Lightl...

Are We Living in 1864?

My heart sank. There it was on my iPhone: a New York Times headline— Justice Dept. Asks for 1-Day Sentence for Ex-Officer Convicted in the Killing of Breonna Taylor . It took me back to 2020. The deaths of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd made headlines and triggered Black Lives Matter protests across the nation. Thousands of us marched, raised our fists, shouted Black Lives Matter, kneeled, shouted I can't breathe, and continued to march as we shouted no justice, no peace. Untitled by Robert Longo, 1981, at The Broad It was the year that made many of us realize that we hadn't changed much since the brutal torture and murder of Emmett Till in 1955. He was only fourteen years old when two white men brutally beat and killed him. There was no justice for Emmett Till 70 years ago. The judge rejected the Justice Department's sentence recommendation of one day and sentenced Brett Hankison to 33 months in prison for violating Breonna Taylor's civil rights. Was i...

Stir-Fried Tteok (Korean Rice Cake)

Tteok, rice cake in English, has many types, such as sirutteok made by steaming, jeolpyeon made by pounding, and hwajeon, which is pan-fried. The most well-known tteok, often simply referred to as tteok, is garaetteok, used in tteokbokki (spicy rice cake) and tteokguk (rice cake soup). Ceramic bowl was wheel-thrown and glazed by me. Another garaetteok dish I enjoy is this Stir-Fried Tteok. Made with sliced rice cakes—the same shape used for rice cake soup—for quick-fire cooking, this dish is loved for its precise balance of savoriness from soy sauce and sweetness from sugar. INGREDIENTS [serves 1 as an entrée] one and a half cups of sliced rice cake a three-quarter cup of shredded cabbage five shishito peppers, sliced in halves two green onions, diced three ounces of seafood mushrooms two tablespoons of soy sauce two tablespoons of sugar a quarter teaspoon of minced garlic vegetable oil If you are using fresh rice cakes, then you do not need to soak them in water. When using refrig...

Slow Cooked Gochujang Chicken

Created while I was developing a Dakdoritang (Korean spicy chicken stew) recipe for a slow cooker, this dish turned out to be something entirely different. Although the ingredients resemble those used in Dakdoritang, the flavor and texture developed in an unexpected way. Instead of a stew, the gochujang-based sauce thickened and clung to the chicken drumsticks as it slowly cooked, deepening in flavor over four hours. In a slow cooker, the sauce does not reduce the way it would on the stovetop; rather, the natural thickness of gochujang and the starch from the vegetables help create a rich sauce that coats the chicken. Ceramic bowls were wheel-thrown and glazed by me. While not what I originally intended to create, this Slow Cooked Gochujang Chicken turned out bold and deeply flavorful. Sometimes the results we did not plan for are far more interesting than the ones we set out to make. A note about the spearmint: while not traditional in gochujang-based dishes, it adds a subtle herbal b...

Will Love Give Us the Courage to Let Our Dad Go?

I believe the cruelest thing a human can experience is burying their child. While the only thing guaranteed in life, from the moment we take our first breath to our last, is death, for a parent to bury a child is not the natural progression of life. For more than six years, I have watched my Dad go through rounds of chemotherapy, years of dialysis, emergency room visits, and hospitalizations where doctors advised against further medical treatment—until my brother vehemently fought for it. If you ever need a medical advocate, you should hire him. Perhaps it is the lawyer in him that convinces doctors to shift their medical opinions. My Dad asked, and my brother passionately advocated for him for days so he could receive his first round of chemotherapy more than six years ago, which the doctor at first refused to administer since it was an unusual treatment for his autoimmune disease. He would have passed away within a matter of months without it. He did squats after his first chemothera...

Quick Fire Stir-Fry Beef

Time is always fluid. It never holds for more than a second, carrying us from the present into the next. I feel rushed at times, even when there is neither expectation nor commitment—only an impatient anxiety, as though I am about to run out of time. This sense of urgency often pressures me to neglect myself, to overlook the quiet moments within my own space, both mental and physical—the small pleasures that offer comfort and serenity... the simple act of slowing down with ordinary things that allow me to feel lived. Bowls were wheel-thrown and glazed by me. For me, that is cooking. As much as I enjoy dining out, cooking allows me to decompress and reset. The ritual—focusing on the ingredients, the process, the rhythm—at times releases me from the chaos that consumes me. There is a quiet satisfaction in savoring a meal of my own making, held within the calm of my space. The dishes don’t have to be opulent. A simple dish, like this Quick Fire Stir-Fry Beef, offers a gentle pause—a brief...

Gwyneth Paltrow is Aloof, So What Are You?

There are days when I feel utterly disconnected from the world. It took an IG feed from Diet Prada for me to learn that Gwyneth Paltrow had starred in an ad for 51 Park, a luxury residential development in Herzliya, Israel. Herzliya is an affluent coastal city north of Tel Aviv, and the project is being marketed as a luxury residential development there. To be clear, 51 Park is not in Gaza. It is in Israel. But precision does not make the geography innocent: parts of present-day Herzliya overlap with or sit near the land of al-Haram, also known as Sidna Ali, a Palestinian Arab village depopulated in 1948. Lisbon, Portugal There is misinformation about where the 51 Park residential development is located, and the distinction matters. If our beating of Gwyneth Paltrow is going to be effective, it should at least be accurate. I have never liked her. I have never hated her. Even before the 51 Park ad controversy broke, I felt she was irrelevant. Her acting skills are not impressive. Would ...

Tsuyu Konjac Bowl

Last summer, I did a dreadful thing. Never say never. Since I had said that I would never do it, it was inevitable that it happened. I went on a diet. It sounds awful, doesn't it? My goal was, and remains, to lose 40 pounds. I lost nearly 20 pounds in about two months and gained 5 back. The diet was paused, but I've maintained a loss of 15 pounds. Since I don't exercise, my diet plan was all about creating a calorie deficit, and I couldn't have done it without the stinking konjac noodles. Ceramic bowl was wheel-thrown and glazed by me. They stink. I tried different brands and differently processed konjac noodles, and they all smelled very fishy. Just so that we are on the same page, konjac is a root vegetable that naturally emits a fishy odor. Fortunately, a good wash under cold running water and lemon juice easily removes the fishy stench, thus making it a great diet food with only 10 calories per serving. While I tried several recipes using konjac noodles, the Tsuyu K...

Exhaling Life

Search This Blog