The first time, I was 15 years old.

I was a freshman at Saugus High School in California, worrying about my Spanish grade and whether someone might ask me to the next school dance. Then, on Nov. 14, 2019, an older student I had never met walked into my school with a gun.

I was talking with my friends when I heard a loud bang. Then another. Then another. The force knocked me to the ground. When I stood up, disoriented and terrified, the quad that had been filled with students and laughter just moments before was nearly empty.

I ran across campus and up several flights of stairs to my Spanish classroom. Only when I was surrounded by shaking classmates did I realize what had happened to me: I had been shot. I was rushed to a nearby park, then airlifted to the hospital with a .45-caliber bullet lodged in my stomach. After emergency surgery saved my life, I learned the truth that would haunt me forever—my best friend Dominic had been killed beside me. 

Students are escorted off campus after a shooting occurred at Saugus High School on Nov. 14, 2019. David Crane—MediaNews Group/Los Angeles Daily News via Getty Images

This time, I’m 21 years old. A college student studying for finals at Brown University. I quickly went from hanging out with my friend and roommate in my dorm room to receiving alerts about an active shooter on campus. Sporadic alerts turned into hundreds of texts, and I knew I was reliving the nightmare from Saugus all over again. I am forced to confront a reality no student should ever have to face: this is the second school shooting I have lived through.

The shooting at Brown University on Dec. 13 killed two students and wounded nine others as they sat quietly studying, doing exactly what students are supposed to be able to do without fear. Their lives were changed forever in an instant.

I know what it means for a community to be shattered by gun violence. I know what it’s like to return from winter break with empty desks and unanswered questions. I know what it feels like to be discussed in press conferences instead of classrooms.

I never imagined I would have to relive that trauma again. But for too many students, this is the price of getting an education in America. For years, I’ve channeled my experience into action. I lead Brown’s Students Demand Action chapter to advocate for safer gun laws and hold the gun industry accountable. I’ve shared my story over and over and over again, because no student should ever receive an alert telling them to “run, hide, and fight” simply because they chose to go to class. No family should have to wait for confirmation that their child survived the school day.

The author at the Rhode Island State House for the passage of the assault weapons ban on June 21, 2025. Mia Tretta

I chose to attend Brown in part because I believed Rhode Island was serious about gun safety. So I was shocked to learn that, until recently, our state had no ban on assault weapons. That’s why I joined Rhode Islanders across the state earlier this year to fight for and pass an assault weapons ban.

But the tragedy at Brown is a devastating reminder that progress cannot stop there—not in Rhode Island and not across the country. The students whose lives were taken, the classmates who were wounded, and the families whose lives have been forever altered deserve the same urgency and leadership our lawmakers showed when they acted this year to ban the sale of assault weapons. This moment demands more than thoughts and prayers.

Our grief must turn into action. I will honor those we lost by continuing to fight for public safety. Not just for students at Brown, but for every student in every classroom across this country. And for my 12-year-old brother, who I struggle to convince how important good grades are when at the same time, it’s really his life and safety on the line.

We should not have to survive school to graduate from it, and I refuse to accept a future where surviving is the best America can offer its students.