A Survivor’s Story: From Victim to Empowerment
A Survivor’s Story: From Victim to Empowerment
Interview with Kim Parker Russell from Women’s March
Kim Parker Russell, middle, holding up “#ENOUGH” sign at the Brett Kavanaugh confirmation hearings, 2018. (Kisha Bari)
By: Eric Davidson
After surviving a horrific attack, Kim Parker Russell eventually turned her tragedy to activism via work with a number of gun violence prevention organizations, and today is Creative Director at Women’s March.
Give me a quick rundown about where you were born and raised?
I was born and raised in and around Atlanta, Georgia. I grew up in a rural area from age 5-11 in a house on a dirt road with two other houses and hundreds of cows that belonged to the man who parceled and sold his land. Our mailbox was at the end of the dirt road a quarter mile from our house.
I attended middle and high school in Smryna, GA, an Atlanta suburb. Yes, I went to high school with Julia Roberts. She was in the grade above me and was kind and funny. As an adult I lived briefly in Athens, GA, London, England, and Telluride, Colorado, but spent most of my time in the city of Atlanta until moving to Brooklyn, New York when I was 34-years old in 2002. My children are New Yorkers who imitate my so-called accent often.
Was there a gun culture around you growing up? Have you actually shot guns, or had relatives or friends who were firearms enthusiasts?
Until middle school when we moved to an Atlanta suburb, I grew up in a rural area south of Atlanta where guns were prevalent. My father owned several shotguns which he kept in a locked case with a glass door in our foyer and two revolvers. I remember seeing a 44 Magnum in the drawer of his bedside table. I don’t know if any of them were loaded. They always scared me so I never touched them, but I easily could have. There were a lot of hunters, too. We always had to be careful when we played in the woods.
As a teenager I shot a 12-gauge shotgun with my boyfriend at the time. It kicked back on my shoulder and I didn't do it again. My roommate in college kept a loaded gun in the dashboard of her car — an insistence from her father since she had to drive long distances through rural parts to get to school. He taught her how to use it, but it still freaked me out a little. So, yeah, I grew up around guns.
I understand it is very hard to talk about, but can you tell us about the terrible incident that, eventually, led you on your path to gun violence awareness activism?
The story took place four days after Columbine, April 24, 1999. My dear friend Philip — a beloved high school teacher — and I were out to dinner in Atlanta. We spent hours talking about Columbine. Philip was worried about his students and worried about himself. After dinner, we drove to an art opening in an older neighborhood filled with beautiful Victorian homes. We had parked and were headed toward the party when Philip turned back, he wanted to lock his jeep. Suddenly, I heard a loud pop, and then I heard Philip yell. To this day I wish I knew what he said. Those were his last words.
I ran for cover as shots whizzed past me until one hit my back, leaving a long, bullet-shaped burn. It was dark and I couldn’t see. I dove under a truck for cover and then heard footsteps. I decided to play dead. It didn’t work, and soon a gun was pressed to my forehead. He demanded my purse and removed the gun to take it from me. He then pressed the gun back on my head. I tightened my muscles, squeezed my fists, and prepared myself to die.
For whatever reason he removed the gun, shot in the air, and ran away. I slowly emerged to find Philip had been shot in the back. Technically he was still alive, but I could tell he was gone. His eyes were not connecting. He was pronounced dead a few hours later at Grady Hospital.
A few days later a 17-year-old was arrested and later pleaded guilty. He was sentenced to life imprisonment in GA. Not long ago I received a letter from the correctional facility alerting me that he had been denied parole. It never goes away.
You've told me how you did not instantly begin your activism right after the incident. Tell us about the months and years after the incident, and the inspiration to get more involved?
I had lived in a bubble after my shooting, and that bubble made me feel safe. I convinced myself that what happened to me was random, that I was an anomaly. I remember hearing about the Million Mom March in DC in May 2000 and thought about going. I even started to write to Rosie O’Donnell who was encouraging people to send their stories, but I didn’t. I was overwhelmed with a potential trial in Atlanta and didn’t think my story mattered.
It wasn’t until I became a mother myself that I started to pay attention to the political aspects of gun violence and understand that it’s largely preventable.
When, why, and how did you move to New York City?
I moved to Brooklyn in October 2002. I met a New Yorker on one of my visits in 2000. After two and a half years of dating long-distance we realized one of us had to move. I’m sure you know those New Yorkers who can’t live anywhere else. I fell in love with one of those, so I moved. Oddly, I’ve always felt physically safer in NYC than in Atlanta. Stronger gun laws are a big part of that.
Kim Parker Russell, with “Abort Guns” sign, at March for Our Lives march, 2022.
Once in NYC, you first started working with Moms Demand Action and then the Brady Campaign (now Brady: United Against Gun Violence), right?
That came later. I was a graphic designer with the NYC Department of Education for a while, and then a stay-at-home mom. I was planning to return to design work once both kids entered school full-time, but Sandy Hook happened.
I'll never forget the moment I found out about the shooting. It was probably like when my dad first heard JFK had been shot. I was standing in my living room with my then four-year-old son preparing to leave for an outing, putting on gloves, jackets, scarves. My daughter was sitting in a first-grade classroom.
I had a PTSD episode that rocked me to my core. Like previous ones I had the usual symptoms of sweaty palms, a racing heart, nauseated stomach, and a feeling of wanting to flee, but no ability to move. I was terrified because I had never had one so intensely. And this one came on while caring for one of my children. Unlike previous PTSD episodes, where I re-live what happened to me, this time, the day Sandy Hook happened, the gun was on my daughter's head.
What were some initial lessons you learned early on from getting involved in activism?
It’s a marathon, not a sprint. Greed and power are not stronger than the power of the people. Most importantly, I’m a survivor. I had always referred to myself as a victim of gun violence until Sandy Hook, when I shifted to calling myself a survivor. I was empowered to fight.
Tell us some highlights of working with both organizations.
The people I’ve met, especially other survivors — who fight our nation’s scourge of gun violence through their trauma — are the highlight of this work. I’m not a religious person, but I consider my activist family to be my church. This community gives me support, safety, love, guidance, and hope. Another highlight is when I have a productive conversation with a gun owner and we agree on common sense gun laws. It does happen!
You then moved onto Women's March. Why the change? Was it simply a part of growing into a wider vision of activism, beyond one issue?
Before Sandy Hook, gun violence prevention was a third rail issue for political candidates. No one talked about it on either side. We worked hard to change that. Hearing gun violence discussed at political debates and as part of candidate’s platforms was a victory. After all, nothing can change if no one admits there is a problem and is willing to take on the gun lobby.
Anyway, after the 2016 election it seemed like gun violence prevention was chopped liver again. Nothing was going to change. I heard about the Women’s March planned for the day after the inauguration in 2017. Some of the organizers lived nearby in Brooklyn, so I volunteered and organized a group of Brady activists to attend the historic march in DC. After learning more about intersectionality, it seemed like a way to keep the issue of gun violence prevention at the top of mind by linking it with other issues and working in coalition. After all, gun violence touches other issues directly: police brutality, domestic violence, LGBTQ+ hate crimes, etc.
Of course, the spikes in gun violence since I’ve started working as an activist have warranted enough press and outrage to keep this issue boiling on the front burner despite who is in office. I’m pretty sure when I started — December 2013 — 86 people were shot and killed every day [in America]; now it’s 117.
Is there anything you learned working in the GVP realm that you've utilized with Women's March?
Definitely. Women’s March is currently fighting hard for reproductive justice. From my perspective as an activist, I find guns and abortion share similar traits: both issues are polarizing; both are health issues, not political fodder; both have extreme counter protesters who can be dangerous; and both are tied to religious beliefs that are so deeply held they’re almost like DNA, therefore very difficult to persuade another view. I’ve learned patience, persistence, and the importance of safety for myself and marchers.
Was there any frustration involved working in the GVP field, as far as how hard it is to get any movement on gun legislation in our country?
This question almost feels like a joke. It was not only frustrating, it was demoralizing and insulting. Being gaslighted by elected officials, news anchors, conservative family members, counter protesters — sometimes armed with assault rifles — it messes with your head.
Luckily, our community is there for one another. We keep each other going and learn to celebrate our wins, no matter how small. Our bonds are stronger than greed. Eventually we will win, but we can’t do it alone.
Can you highlight some actual steps forward you have seen — and perhaps feel you were intimately involved in?
I remember when Starbucks took out a full page ad in the New York Times saying they did not want customers to openly carry guns in their stores. I think that was in the fall of 2013 after we had been lobbying hard for them to stop open-carry at all locations. That was huge.
After that we’ve seen state wins over the past decade with background checks and red flag laws. There was even some movement federally under Biden in July 2022, after no action since the mid-90s, when he signed the Bipartisan Safer Communities Act, closing the Boyfriend Loophole, funding state intervention programs, and better NCIS record keeping. Of course, we’ve also seen state losses where permitless carry is making rounds across red states. But again, we remember to celebrate our wins to keep us going.
My proudest achievement hands down is when I helped lead our nation’s youth for the Enough! National School Walkouts that saw 1.6 million students walk out of schools in every state. I’ll never forget it. We intentionally set the start time to be the same nationwide so kids would start walking out for hours across all time zones. I was exhausted after attending the one at LaGuardia High School in NYC, but elated to get home and see walkouts starting in California and later in Hawaii.
Can you clue us as to some GVP organizations we should look into?
There is no lack of organizations fighting gun violence out there, so it’s not hard to find one:
National organizations: Everytown; Moms Demand Action; Giffords; Brady; Newtown Action Alliance; Sandy Hook Promise; March for Our Lives; States United to Prevent Gun Violence; Community Justice Action Fund.
Creative organizations I adore: Gays Against Guns; Change the Ref
For Survivors: Survivors Empowered; Survivors Lead
State organizations — find one! Many states have a dedicated gun violence prevention organization, and they are often doing the nitty gritty work of helping elect legislators who will support issues, and later helping them write bills. They are typically underfunded too. While national organizations can be useful at the state level they are often based far away, so state orgs may have a better understanding of local politics.
A few state organizations I know and admire:
Safe Tennessee Project; Nebraskans Against Gun Violence; New Yorkers Against Gun Violence; Texas Gun Sense; CeaseFirePA; Connecticut Against Gun Violence; Women Against Gun Violence (CA); Protect Minnesota; and more.
Having grown up in the South, and now having lived in NYC for a while, I assume you've stayed in touch with friends and family down South. We all know the generic assumptions about the divide in gun culture between Georgia and New York, but do you see any change going on back home, as far as attitudes towards guns and gun legislation?
In Georgia, I spent most of my time in Atlanta where my peers agreed with me. Not necessarily my extended family, which can be sticky. Legislatively, Georgia elected two democratic Senators and my friend, gun violence survivor and activist, Lucy McBath, who is serving her second term as U.S. Congresswoman. This gives me hope that we’ll see change there soon.
Despite the frustrations, what gets you up and at 'em in the morning?
Community. One cannot underestimate the power of a community that comes together. Those bonds are powerful and often lifelong. I will always fight for the people I love, and they will do the same for me. That is what keeps me going.
Kim Parker Russell was moved to advocate for commonsense measures to reduce gun violence in America after the tragic shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut. In 2012, she helped to launch a national grassroots organization — Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America — which quickly became a leading voice of reason in the gun violence prevention movement. Kim has also worked with Brady United Against Gun Violence as an organizing manager and every other year co-produces Fun Lovers Unite — a night of comedy and music to raise gun sense awareness and funding. After the 2016 election Kim began working with Women’s March to tackle intersecting issues impacting women and families. She currently serves as their creative director and inspired youth to lead Enough! National School Walkouts that saw 1.6 million students walk out of schools demanding safety from gun violence. Originally from Atlanta, Georgia, Kim is a mother of two living in Brooklyn, NY, with a background in graphic design.
Top photo by Kisha Bari; second image courtesy of Kim Parker Russell.