Shots ring out.
Chairs scrape, papers scatter, screams rise before anyone even understands what’s happening. Students duck under desks, text their parents, pray they aren’t next. What sounds like a scene from a horror film has become something students across America quietly prepare for every single day; rehearsed in our heads between lectures, whispered about between friends, joked about only because the alternative is too scary to name.

This weekend, it became a reality for students at Brown University, my mom’s alma mater and the school of some of those helping Quilly both past and present, where an armed individual, dressed in black, opened fire and changed the lives of everyone on that campus forever. For some of those students, this was their second school shooting experience.

Read that again.
Their second.

We talk about “resilience,” but what about the exhaustion? What about the fear baked so deeply into American student life that kindergarteners learn lockdown drills before multiplication?

As a college student myself, and a naturally anxious one, I carry a quiet fear every time I walk into a classroom. Every time someone slams a chair too hard. Every time I hear footsteps run down the hallway. Every time an unfamiliar person walks in late. There’s a split second where my heart jumps, where my mind does the math: If it’s today, where do I hide? Who do I text? Will I get to run?

This is not normal.
This is not inevitable.
This is not something we should accept.

And yet, here we are, grieving another campus, another community, another group of parents waiting outside police tape praying their child walks out.

Gun violence is now so commonplace that experts call it a public health crisis. Students call it Tuesday.

The Human Cost We Don’t See

When news breaks, the headlines mention numbers:

• students killed

• students injured

• suspect detained

• campus on lockdown


But behind each of those bullet points are human beings who will spend years healing from something that never should have happened in the first place. Survivors whose bodies may recover but whose nervous systems may never fully unwind. Parents who will never sleep the same. Professors who will remember which students weren’t in their seats the following Monday.

And for the Brown students who had already lived through one school shooting, there are no words for the level of trauma that statement holds. No young person should ever have to survive this twice.

Why Silence Isn’t an Option

It may feel strange to post “one more blog,” or “one more statement.” But we refuse to say nothing. Refusing to speak up is how we got here, a country where the right to exist safely in a classroom, at a mall, at a concert, beach or in a dining hall is treated like a luxury instead of a guarantee.

We deserve better.
We deserve safety.
We deserve to grow up.

If You Want to Take Action

Here are organizations doing critical work to end gun violence. Supporting them, sharing, donating, volunteering, does make a difference:

Sandy Hook Promise

Evidence-based violence prevention programs focused on schools and youth.

Everytown for Gun Safety

The largest gun-violence prevention organization in the country.

March for Our Lives

Student-led activism pushing for policy change at state and federal levels.

Moms Demand Action

Community-driven groups fighting for stronger gun laws and safer communities.

Giffords Courage to Fight Gun Violence

Advocates for legislative reform and survivor support.

Brady United

Focused on policy, lawsuits, and education to reduce gun violence nationwide.
Even one email or petition signature helps. Even one conversation helps. Even one moment of refusing to normalize this helps.

For the Students at Brown

Our hearts are with you, with your fear, your grief, your shaken sense of safety. We hope you feel surrounded by support, softness, and people who understand the magnitude of what you’re carrying right now.

To everyone reading: don’t let this moment fade into the next news cycle. Let it be a turning point, even a small one, toward real change. Call your representatives, your senators, your city council members. As Gen Z, this is our reality to confront. Raise your voice. Make noise. We can’t accept this as the price of being a student in America.

— Quilly