Ryan L.
Photography by Julia Thompson
Please note: Before reading my letter, please be aware that it describes my personal experience with school-related gun violence at UNC, including what it was like in the classroom during this tragic event. If you find this content distressing or triggering, I encourage you to explore other resources or content, or to ensure you have access to any support systems that may be helpful before proceeding.
Sincerely, Ryan
If you’re reading this, your fear does not define you.
My story for this letter revolves around a horrifying ongoing experience that breaks everyone’s hearts and makes you think, “Wow, this country needs to do better” and then makes you take a deep breath and think, “That could never happen here”. But then it does.
Hi, my name is Ryan Lipton, and my university is just another name added to the terribly long list of schools that have endured school shootings.
One minute you’re about to step into class and the next you’re receiving a text alert that there is an armed and dangerous person on campus. Then you’re running into a room and barricading the door with tables because the door doesn’t have a lock. Then you tell the 13 other students in the room with you to take out their water bottles and pepper spray to use as weapons. Then you text your family and friends. “Where are you?”. “Are you safe?”. “Who are you with?”. “I love you”. You find out the shooter killed someone in the building directly connected to yours. You’re hearing rumors that there is more than one shooter and that they are dressed like police officers. You’re trying to calm yourself down and tell yourself it will be okay but then every time you look at the barricaded door you can imagine someone barging in with a gun. You look to the right and see one student quietly listening to the police scanner and you look to the left and see another student crying and shaking. You continue to text your loved ones. You sit with your back up against the wall without moving or speaking for three hours. You wonder if you are going to die today.
And then it’s somehow over and the police are evacuating you from the building. You call your family. You walk back to your apartment and hug your friends. You don’t really know how to process what happened, so you try to make a joke and laugh with your friends. You stay with your friends the rest of the day. Then it hits you all over again and you feel your stomach drop and the fear that eats you alive. Then the next thing you know you must go back to class. Yeah, that one, the one where you were hiding for your life just a week ago.
Then two weeks later you’re studying in the library instead of the building where your class is because you are traumatized by simply being there. But then you receive that same text from two weeks ago. “Armed, dangerous person on or near campus. Go inside now; avoid windows”. Your heart starts pounding and you think to yourself that this must be a joke. But then everyone is running around finding a place to hide. The girl that is sitting at my table has headphones on and is oblivious to the chaos around her while she works on her physics problem. I tap her and show her the message. I run up to hide in a study room on the eighth floor of the library. I find out someone brandished a gun in the building right next to mine. I wonder how this could happen again, exactly at the same time two weeks later. I sit in fear for my life. Again. I am evacuated. Again. For the next few days, I go to bed and wake up wondering what is going to go terribly wrong today. The debilitating fear continues to hit me every day and I constantly feel anxious on campus. I am living in fear.
Flash forward some time and I am finally feeling somewhat comfortable on campus. I am still going to classes, meeting up with friends for lunch, and going to football games. The fear still creeps in sometimes, but I am doing much better. My family and friends constantly support me and are there for me during the dark times. I am so thankful for them.
For me, time has been healing and so has been leaning on my loved ones. I knew I had to take my power back and not let this trauma take over my life. Life can be overwhelming and scary but also beautiful. Although I haven’t felt the debilitating fear in a while, I’m sure being on certain parts of campus or hearing new plans for safety protocols will spark some difficult emotions in me. I am proud of the fear I have overcome and how I have continued to live my life to the fullest. But the fear may come back, and that’s okay. I’m only human. But I hope that I will push through it and come out stronger.
I’m not sure if the fear will ever really go away completely, but I know there is so much about life to appreciate, and I can’t let that fear hold me back.
To anyone reading this, thank you. I hope this letter was eye-opening or a comfort to someone who may have experienced something similar. And even if you haven’t experienced it exactly, it’s okay to have that fear for whatever it is you are going through. You are only human. I hope the fear becomes a small voice in your body that you can push through. I’m right there with you, finding ways to control the fear and to not let it take over. So, if you are reading this, your fear does not define you and you are not alone, we are all fighting together.
Ryan L., University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
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