This week, a certain popular artist in the fandom - and I won't name names - tweeted a snooty series of remarks stating that he'd be willing to give up his guns because "I care about lives more than my hobby" and "I have a cell phone for my self defense." Like many of my friends, I was deeply insulted by said statements. But after my blood stopped boiling, I realized suddenly what this gentleman had accidentally revealed: He is amazingly privileged.
Yes, I do believe privilege is real. Mind you, I think SJW leftists get it all wrong when they talk about "white privilege" as if that applies equally to both poor whites in Appalachia and rich whites in corporate boardrooms. Privilege, as I've noted before, is multidimensional and dependent on context, and there are absolutely situations in our society today in which, for example, a black woman can enjoy privileges that a white man cannot.
That being said, our wayward artist is a picture perfect illustration of what privilege is. He apparently lives in an area of the world that is so unbelievably safe that he's never had to contemplate using his guns for self defense. Evidently, he also lives in an area of the world in which he doesn't have to depend on his guns to put food on the table or defend his livestock from wild animals. He also seems 100% confident that, should he be victimized by a criminal, he can call 911 and wait on the police to arrive without suffering serious injury -- perhaps because he is male and able-bodied.
I, sir, do not live in that world.
In college, I was walking back from the mall one day when this guy approached me on the sidewalk and started groping me. This was before my rheumatoid arthritis became severe, but all the same: I was 5'2", maybe 95 pounds soaking wet, and unarmed. What might've happened if the man hadn't stopped when I told him to back off and had instead attempted to rape me? Could I have held him off until the cops arrived? Are you fucking kidding me?
Nowadays, my chances are even worse -- which is why I'm taking a course this summer and getting a gun. Because I can't run or fight with my fists. Because a gun will allow me to level the playing field.
It must be nice, sir, to have such bottomless faith in the police and in your own strength that you feel comfortable depending on a cell phone to protect your life and your bodily integrity. It must be nice to live in such a secure and cushioned bubble that you can consider a gun a mere plaything. But those of us who live outside that bubble don't have that luxury. We are not selfish hobbyists putting our toys before human lives. We treasure our gun rights precisely because we care about human lives more than anything else -- and our experiences have taught us that guns are indispensable tools that can be used to shield those lives from harm.