Friday, June 29, 2007
Flowers and beads grace one of the 33 stones placed near a makeshift memorial in front of Burruss Hall on the campus of Virginia Tech in Blacksburg, Va., in this April 20, 2007, file photo. Virginia Tech will replace the temporary memorials on the campus lawn with 32 engraved stones for those killed by a student gunman, officials announced Thursday, June 7, 2007. The temporary memorials, large stones, were placed in a semicircle near the administration building by student group Hokies United immediately after the April 16 shootings by student Seung-Hui Cho. (AP Photo/Chuck Burton, file)
I never doubted the value of my little bottle of pepper spray.
As a Washington, D.C., intern last summer, I spent countless hours on the public subway system and walked to my car at the station late at night many times. I was aware it was a station where five attempted sexual assaults had previously occurred.
Each time I made that walk, I would discreetly grasp my pepper spray—a present from my parents—and hope that I wouldn’t be making the trek to the parking garage with any of the degenerates I’d seen on the train. I didn’t realize the worthlessness of that bottle until I thought I might actually have to use it. A suspicious-acting man driving an old, beat-up car followed me through the empty parking lot until I reached my own car. It was then that I realized my complete vulnerability, a feeling that was solidified for me after attending my first year at Virginia Tech.
The false sense of security that a college campus provides is what allows women to lower their guard, unwittingly putting themselves at greater risk. Sure, we hear the horrors caused by date-rape drugs and too much drinking, but who is on guard at the bus stop, on a mid-day jog around campus, or even just in the classroom?
The answer? Nobody.
Nobody was on guard that terrible morning in April at Virginia Tech, myself included. Most universities in Virginia, including Tech, require students to check their firearms with local police or campus security. This policy didn’t stop the gunman. Nobody could defend themselves, and nobody was safe from his rampage. What’s worse is that Virginia Tech administrators previously applauded the defeated efforts by the Virginia General Assembly to allow Tech students to carry concealed weapons on campus.
Following the most recent attempt to pass a bill in early 2006, Tech Spokesman Larry Hincker self-righteously responded in a January 31st article in the Roanoke Times that, “I’m sure the university community is appreciative of the General Assembly’s actions because this will help parents, students, faculty and visitors feel safe on campus.”
Although a tragedy of that magnitude will hopefully be avoided in the future, we should not overlook the fact that students, particularly young women, face daily risks on college campuses.
How should young women protect themselves? For that matter, how should any innocent citizen avoid being a victim? According to the Metropolitan Police Department, you should stay alert and “wear clothing and shoes that give you freedom of movement.” Those are well-intentioned ideas, but for those of us not interning at Sports Authority, sneakers and running shorts are usually not included in our daily dress-code.
So assuming I can’t run away fast enough in heels or move to a well-lit area (perhaps under one of the lamps in the deserted parking lot?), the options they provide during an attack include screaming and blowing a whistle. I am not surprised “call the police” doesn’t show up on the list, as their eight-and-a-half minute response-rate would seem about as long as waiting for Christmas morning when you were little.
What if the assailant has a weapon? According to the police, you may then have no option but to submit. Well, may I suggest an addition to the list?
Option 6: shoot him.
For years guns have been banned in both the District of Columbia and on many campuses nationwide. As a 20-year-old intern and student, I have never felt more marginalized. Whether it is walking to my car at the station, trekking across campus from the 24-hour library, or, in light of recent events, even going to class, the inability to protect myself is ever-present. To put a fine point on it, I am often in fear of my life.
Both of my parents work in law-enforcement, and I have spent countless hours at the shooting range and attending classes for a gun-carrying permit. It is unfortunate that the only place I have ever been allowed to carry a gun is at our mountain cabin—and that’s only to protect myself from bears!
The ownership of a gun requires much responsibility. Numerous laws have been established to keep guns out of the hands of violent or otherwise unstable individuals. However, to outlaw guns for law-abiding citizens who have no other reasonable way to protect themselves is asking all of us to jeopardize our feelings of security, our safety, and, ultimately, our lives. That is not a gamble I’m willing to take.
As long as the Left dictates where and when I can feel safe, allow me to suggest alternative option #6. Perhaps the liberal “do-gooders” who support gun-bans would be so kind as to volunteer to escort me everywhere I go to ward of potential attacks. But in reality, the left doesn’t care about defending the rights of a free people. If they did, administrators at Virginia Tech and D.C. bureaucrats would never have taken steps to strip us of our Second Amendment right to keep and bear arms.
Allison Aldrich is a junior political science and English major at Virginia Tech and a Summer 2007 intern at the Young America’s Foundation headquarters in her hometown, Herndon, Virginia.
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