Six years ago today, I walked out of my high school in line with my friends, hands raised above my head, surrounded by a SWAT team. There was blinding sunlight, yellow tape, and a helicopter overhead. We piled our backpacks in the middle of the road and watched as police dogs sniffed through them all. Valentine's chocolates and flowers crumbled to the ground. My knuckles turned white as I waited to see who would come out of the building next.
17 of us wouldn't make it.
A few hours later I arrived home. My body numb, tears streaming down my face, I sank into the couch as the words “Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School Shooting” scrolled across the television screen. I was 17 years old at the time.
My parents sat on either side of me and held my hands as tightly as they could. I will never forget how empty and helpless I felt.
I've been reflecting a lot on my journey to get to where I am today, how much I've tried, what I've sacrificed, what I've been able to accomplish, and the struggles I still face. I did. I have given so much of myself to make a difference. And I know that in many ways, myself and the world have come a long way. In other ways, I feel like I'm right at the starting point.
The news is still full of the same story: another shooting, more victims.
Nothing is fair about the cards that were dealt to my classmates, my community, and me. What should you do when something like that happens?
A few days after the shooting, I jumped headfirst into the role of lead student coordinator for the March For Our Lives event in Parkland. The pain drove me forward and I traded the rest of my childhood and all the energy I had left for a chance to make a change.
As I look back on the day of the march in 2018, I can still feel the energy and enthusiasm pulsating in the air. It was filled with pain, suffering and passion. 30,000 cheers erupted, proving the magnitude of this moment that I had put everything I had into creating.
As I was speaking, I heard students in the stands say, “Enough!” The momentum was amazing. I could see and feel the power I have to drive change and the weight of my responsibility to accomplish even more.
I soon co-founded Empower the People (EtP), a nonprofit organization dedicated to harnessing the power of youth to create social and political change. I still struggled with my own anger and sadness and instead gave my all to this work. I loved how it consumed me. It distracted me and gave me purpose.
EtP has become an extension of myself. I needed to believe that I could channel my pain into something better, and I was hungry to move forward one step at a time. As the team continued to build, I felt like I was “defeating” what happened to me and doing justice to the 17 people I lost.
I was afraid that my trauma might win out, but it made me try harder. We have a great partnership with Teach Democracy, a national nonprofit organization, to close the civic opportunity gap for under-resourced youth. Together, we reimagined a dynamic, project-based civics curriculum for students in Title 1 middle and high schools across the country.
EtP was reaching more than 50,000 students per semester in all 50 states, but they still wondered if they were doing enough. I couldn't separate myself from work and felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. I was scared that all traces of my childhood and previous self were gone and I didn't know if I would ever get them back. After four years, I finally decided to leave and try to figure out who I am outside of what I've always done.
I spent five years desperately trying not to let the shooting define me. I tried to prove to myself and the world that I was more than what happened to me on February 14, 2018, but now I also distanced myself from all the ways that made me grow. I realized that.
I am filled with a tension between gratitude and sadness. I grieve who I was, the people I lost, and the life that could have been. But I'm also deeply grateful for how far I've come, the amazing people and opportunities I've had around me, and the strong person I've become.
Dedicating my life to social impact is a very personal thing for me. It will always be rooted in my past, and I will continue to struggle with the line between devoting myself to my work and maintaining myself outside of it. But I know I'm on the right path.
The path I have walked so far has been a difficult one. And there is no doubt that many more challenges lie ahead. But it is the difficult events we go through that shape us. They give us perspective, shape our view of the world, and encourage us to imagine how things should be. Over time, they may tell us more about who we are.
Today, 17. Think about your loved ones. People are what you live for. The people you fight against. They need your help to create a better world and a better life and to remember again and again why this work is worth doing.
I don't know what will happen in the future, but I look forward to future growth.
Author's Note: This blog is dedicated to my EtP co-president and most trusted partner, Sari Kaufman. My MFOL Parkland team. and an incredible support system of family, friends, and colleagues. And 17.
Casey Sherman is an employee of Carol Cone On Purpose.
