In August of 1999, I was six-years-old, attending the North Valley Jewish Community Center Day Camp in Los Angeles. It was mid-morning, a sunny day. I was walking back from a game of Capture the Flag when I was faced with a man I assumed was a construction worker, because at his hip he was holding what my six-year-old mind perceived as a power drill. But what I was looking at was a Neo-Nazi wielding a semi-automatic weapon and hundreds of rounds of ammunition. The next thing I knew, I was on the floor.
As the gunman unleashed a barrage of bullets, two hit me – one piercing through my left leg, breaking the bone and the other lodging in my hip, narrowly missing my spine and other vital organs. Adrenaline kicked in and I got up and ran for my life.
A man scooped me up and ran with me to a little red schoolhouse where all of the preschoolers and kindergartners were. I lay on the floor wrapped in blankets, overcome with abject terror. I screamed out for someone to call 911, and kept screaming until the paramedics arrived. I was put on a gurney and transferred to a helicopter where I was airlifted to Children’s Hospital Los Angeles.
I received great medical care and love and support from all of those around me. I healed well and was out of the hospital within a week. When the JCC reopened, I returned. The JCC was my home away from home. My family wouldn’t let hatred keep us from our community and a place that we loved.
My family later learned that the shooter was a known Neo-Nazi who was on parole. He had a history of domestic abuse and mental illness. Despite all of this known information, the shooter was still able to obtain an assault weapon and wreak havoc on the lives of innocent people that day. My family knew that we would have no choice but to get active in fighting for the safety of other children, that we would have to do everything we could to prevent this tragedy from happening to anyone else.
Fighting senseless gun violence has been a family affair. My mother worked alongside other mothers to form the Million Mom March, which had its inaugural march on Mother’s Day 2000, less than a year after the shooting at North Valley Jewish Community Center. Ever since, we have remained dedicated to eradicating the epidemic of gun violence in America.
Fifteen years ago, my life was changed forever. I was six years old when I became a survivor of gun violence. Since that day, this is the only life I know. My views on the world have been forever shaped by this experience and I am forever dedicated to preventing this from happening to anyone else.