Courtesy of the author
I remember the day I arrived in the US, ready to start my new life. I landed in JFK at 27 years old with a heart full of hope and two suitcases packed to the brim with my belongings.
I grew up bouncing around South America and saw some extreme violence as a kid. My family lived in Bogotá, Colombia during the height of Pablo Escobar's power, and bombs would go off unexpectedly. To this day, I can't sleep with the lights off because I have a recurring dream of an explosion happening and being unable to see where I am.
In Brazil, I was held at gunpoint coming back from school. Argentina has a long and complicated history of femicides, and I never felt safe alone in public.
All I ever wanted as an adult was to feel safe. It was my main motivation behind moving to the US and leaving my family behind.
I did feel safe for years. But that changed when there was a mass shooting just 30 minutes from my home in Maine.
When I first moved to New York City, I'd walk by myself down the streets, always keeping an eye out because it's in my DNA, but never living in fear.
As mass shootings became more common over the years, that changed. I would arrive at crowded public places, like movie theaters, and immediately look for emergency exits or go over in my head what I would do if someone came in with a gun.
I was raised to be ready to run or hide.
I eventually met my now-husband, who is American. He didn't understand my fears; he had grown up in a relatively safe major city, years before school lockdowns were a weekly occurrence. He reassured me every time we were out that things were going to be OK.
After having three kids in New York City, my husband and I wanted a slower, quieter life. So in 2020, we packed our things and moved to a town near Portland, Maine.
We took many things into consideration, including proximity to my husband's extended family, my need to be near the ocean, and the fact that Maine hadn't had any mass shootings.
As I continued to see school shootings in the news, I realized I had a new fear: my kids' safety. I told my husband that we would have to pack our lives up and leave if a mass shooting ever happened in Maine.
I didn't want my children to grow up like I did. The whole point of moving here was to shield them from having an upbringing similar to mine.
On October 25th, my husband and I were out having dinner when I overheard a man at the table behind us say, "Dude, this is the first mass shooting in Maine."
My heart sank.
We ran home with knots in our stomachs and watched as the news developed: 18 people were killed and 13 injured in a mass shooting in Lewiston, Maine. At the time of writing, the suspected shooter is still at large.
Maine is a large state in terms of land, but it's a small community. Slowly, texts started coming. My friend's husband was out near where the shooting happened. We had been to their place days prior to celebrate their daughter's birthday.
My friend's coworker had to hide in a restaurant while they listened to gunshots. We got a robocall from my kids' school to let us know school was closed until further notice.
My biggest fear had come true.
Before the shooting, I thought this would be the moment when we left. The destination wouldn't matter as long as I felt it was safer. But we've invested in Maine. We have friends, our kids have friends, and we love our lives here.
No place in the US feels safe when it comes to mass shootings, which makes fleeing feel impossible. Today, we are focused on keeping our kids sheltered from the fear of violence by not talking about what happened in Lewiston, so their innocence lasts a little longer.
