Reading through the paper, I came across an article that I just had to take issue with. My issue is that it spends the first three paragraphs seeming to imply that those with mental disorders or disabilities (including such “diagnoses” as being “socially awkward” and having anxiety”) are more likely to snap and go on a school shooting spree.
The title is that there is “no simple formula to identify dangerous people,” but then the first three paragraphs review three people and incidents. Scary! Scary! “Those” people are dangerous!
Except…except that in the fifth paragraph, the article says – for those who have bothered reading that far – that “attempts at profiling run the risk of misidentifying individuals who may only be suffering from depression or a behavioral disorder.” In fact, the article went on to say, “only a third of the attackers had received a mental health evaluation” and “most of the shooters – whose ages ranged from 11 to 21 – came from two-parent families, socialized with mainstream students, had no history of violent or criminal behavior, and had never or rarely been in trouble at school.” Basically, there is no way to predict that those people would commit those atrocities.
So why the seeming subterfuge? Why spend the beginning – the part that’s most likely to be read – giving the idea that there is something “at fault” with these people?
Well, I hate to keep harping on it (no, I don’t), but once again, it’s that need to separate ourselves. The need to make sure that anyone capable of such acts isn’t “one of us.” As was repeated over and over in an episode of Life: “There’s us. And there’s them. Us. Them. Us. Them.”
We like that division. But it isn’t real.
I remember one evening about 20 years ago, around 6 p.m., my at-the-time-boyfriend-and-now-husband and I were going out on a date. We were driving down the main drag of my town, over by the train station that everyone commuting to New York rode out of and into daily, and this guy, carrying a briefcase and wearing a suit, was walking down the road, obviously one of the previously mentioned commuters. Then, he stumbled a little and started to jog. Then run. All the while pulling at his tie, shedding his jacket, and first muttering then yelling, “I just can’t take it anymore!”
And it scared me. Because it hit me: we’re all on that edge of not taking it anymore.
Don’t get me wrong – I’m not saying that I feel myself on that edge now. I don’t think I’m going to run down the street, stripping off my clothes and screaming. It’s just that I accept that it could happen. And for some people, it does happen. And we should know that and accept that and be less judgmental of those who seek help to fix their problems and try to find help for those who need help and don’t know it.