I’m a grandparent, a military veteran, and a gardener, and I manage mobile devices for a school district in Minnesota. I’m also a black man who owns guns. And Philando Castile, killed by police at a traffic stop after telling the officer he was armed, could have been me.

I was devastated when Castile was shot last year in St. Anthony, Minnesota — it took place in our own backyard. Castile had been pulled over for a broken taillight. A responsible gun owner, he told then-police officer Jeronimo Yanez he was carrying a firearm. Yanez reacted by shooting him in a matter of seconds.

I’m a 280-pound black guy with a bald head, a beard, and, sometimes, a gun. It’s already hard enough going through life stereotyped as a dangerous black man. Add in that I exercise my right to bear arms and that I live in a country where police officers can shoot black men with impunity, and you have a dangerous situation.

Last week, a jury cleared Yanez of three counts of manslaughter for Castile’s death. I knew he would get off as soon as I read in the paper that the jury had hit a third day of deliberation.

As much as we’d like to believe it, justice is not blind. This happens repeatedly: A black man, whether he’s armed or not, is shot by police; there’s damning footage that shows no real reason for the shooting to take place; and then a jury clears the officer. Every juror who won’t cast a verdict, every judge who won’t heed proper sentencing, and every police officer who lives behind that blue code of silence is complicit in the powder keg that this inaction creates in America.

I choose to own guns for self-defense. But that doesn’t automatically mean I’m safer when I’m armed — especially if I am stopped by police. Being a black gun owner comes with its own sets of risks and responsibilities. It’s one reason I help other black people buy, store, and safely use guns as the director for the state of Minnesota for the National African American Gun Association and as president of the local chapter, the African American Heritage Gun Club. Somebody needs to offer support for gun owners like me.

Castile’s death shows that for black gun owners, the NRA is not on your side

Castile was a registered gun owner, killed despite following the procedure that gun owners do as a courtesy — in Minnesota, you’re not required to disclose that you have a firearm with you when pulled over. After his death, some looked to the National Rifle Association to advocate on Castile’s behalf. Surely they would step in to defend Castile’s Second Amendment rights instead of making a statement that vaguely addresses his death without even mentioning his name.

But their deafening silence was no more than the status quo. As I told others in the aftermath of the shooting, if you are waiting for the NRA to say something, don't hold your breath. It’s a big part of why the organization I work for, the NAAGA, exists.

I used to be a member of the NRA. I was really impressed when Colion Noir, a prominent black gun enthusiast, joined the NRA, because there was somebody who looked like me. But after a while, I started to see through the organization’s messaging. Whenever they want black gun owners to pay attention, they put Milwaukee Sheriff David Clarke out there. They put Lt. Col. Allen West, a former Florida Republican Congress member, out there. They trot out Noir just to show, “Hey, we have black members.”

But then there’s Ted Nugent, who has called a black man subhuman and made other vile statements. He’s on the NRA board. Why should I give my money to people who don’t have my best interests in mind? Eventually I had to let my membership lapse.

After Castile’s death, the hypocrisy of the NRA is even more apparent. Even if you remove race from the equation for a moment, why should I give money to an organization that has barely said anything about a gun owner who was killed by a police officer? I do understand there’s a large contingent of members who are law enforcement officers. They don’t want to offend them or alienate them. But the truth hurts sometimes.

That’s why I’m involved with the NAAGA. We truly have all flavors of life. My group is primarily African Americans, but I say that all of God’s children are welcome, so our membership is mixed. We have women and men. We have people on different ends of the political spectrum, because the group itself is apolitical. We have Republicans, Democrats, conservatives, and liberals, and we embrace them all. We just had a joint range day with the Pink Pistols of Twin Cities, an LGBTQ gun club. For us, a gun owner is a gun owner, no matter their color, what they look like, or their orientation.

There’s added risk when you’re armed and facing the police as a black man

I’m now 49 years old. When I was a kid, though, every kid in our neighborhood wanted to be a police officer, a fireman, or a doctor. We looked up to police officers in our neighborhood. That’s largely because they were part of our community. Now you have cops who don’t even live in your city, and our police force has become militarized.

I have police officers in my family, and I’m very aware of being courteous. If you talk to a police officer respectfully, if you give them the common courtesy you’d give anyone, sometimes they’ll let you off with a warning. In many cases, if everyone’s compliant, everyone goes home safe. But the officer who shot Philando Castile was incompetent. If you’re that afraid of black people, you don’t need a firearm. Maybe you should be a mall cop.

We have a certified trainer in the NAAGA who instructs our members on conflict resolution and deescalation in these situations. We tell them: Don’t be jumpy; keep your hands on the steering wheel. You should have your license and registration readily available to the officer. Is it fair that we even have to be so much more cautious around police than everyone else, for fear of our lives being taken? No. But it is our reality.

I’m a big guy, and I know I look intimidating. If you’re like me — or many other black people — you learn how to give people space. You’re not necessarily walking on eggshells, but you try so hard to not make other people afraid of you. I hate to say it that way, but that’s the way I’ve come to think. Of course, when people get to know me, they realize, Oh, that’s just Louis. People who don’t know me are afraid. People who don’t have exposure to African Americans on a daily basis — they’re afraid. It shouldn’t be like this.

To too many people, in a split second, a tall, armed black man can only equate to “the enemy.” I live in a fairly affluent neighborhood in the Twin Cities. So If I’m in my house and I call 911, there’s going to be someone at my door in three minutes. You can’t say that for some parts of Twin Cities. I watched this story about an interracial couple on CNN. The wife, who is white, said she was afraid that if her husband, who was also a black gun owner, had to defend their family against an intruder, the cops would come and shoot him. She feared the cops could only see her husband as the bad guy.

There are plenty of other things to worry about: We have to be cautious of the terrorists; we have to be cautious of the criminals. And we, sadly, have to be cautious with police. It’s just another layer that we have to worry about, and we shouldn’t have to.

As we now know with the video released this week of the deadly altercation between Castile and Yanez, it’s clear Castile did what he was supposed to do. He did what I would do with police officers too. It’s better to be upfront to stop the worst from happening.

Unfortunately for Castile, it wasn’t enough to save his life.

We need more openness on firearm safety

I know how to shoot a rifle and a shotgun because I was in the military, and I’m a hunter. Because of my own experiences, and the need I see among black people in Minnesota and across the country to understand gun safety and ownership, I do what I do. We help people learn how to store guns safely in their homes. As a former scout leader, I’ve taught kids as young as 12 about firearms and safety.

But a lot of people in our community don’t learn about guns because Democratic politics gets in the way. A lot of children and adults in the black community don’t have positive exposure to firearms safety and ownership.

At NAAGA, though, we have a certified instructor on board now to teach a lot of first-timers who have never fired a pistol or a rifle. I introduce them to basic gun safety. In four hours, I can get them from missing their target to hitting a pretty small target.

We do this because the Second Amendment was not made with people of color in mind — even though we have shed blood in every conflict this nation has been involved in. If you don't know who was on the other end of "the shot heard around the world," sparking the American Revolution, it was Crispus Attucks, a black patriot! We have earned our Second Amendment rights by a baptism of blood that was shed for this nation.

From the Revolutionary War to the Gulf Wars, from Normandy, France, to Khe Sanh, Vietnam, we have come to the point where we must decide if we will be both seen and heard, or shuck and jive with the status quo. The revolutionaries of the 1960s didn't get sprayed with water cannons and attacked by dogs so we can sit on our butts in our comfortable loungers, sing Kumbaya, or cower in the corner.

Philando Castile’s death must not be in vain. For black gun owners, this is a critical moment to take a stand for our Second Amendment right to own and carry guns. And even if you won’t, I will keep fighting for your rights too.

—as told to Michelle Garcia

Louis Dennard is the director of NAAGA for the state of Minnesota, and president of the local African American Heritage Gun Club. He manages mobile devices for a school district in Minnesota and owns Miss Judy’s BBQ. He’s the father of three and a grandfather of one.

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