The mexican government confiscates approximately 30,000 illegal firearms each year.
When the guns are taken they get dismantled and the metal is used to make other types of weapons that will later be utilized by their military.
In 2012, Pedro Reyes, an artist from Mexico City convinced his government to donate the guns to him, And he turned them into musical instruments.
So somewhere there’s a tambourine, a drum set, a guitar, all made out of things that were used to take people’s lives, but now they create a sound that puts life back into people’s bodies.
Which is to say a weapon will always be a weapon but we choose how we fight the war. And from this i learned that even the most destructive instruments can still create a melody worth dancing to, and sometimes don’t we also call that a battle.
I wonder how long it took to convince the first rifle that it can hold-note instead of a bullet, but still fire into a crowd and make everyone move.
When i was 10 years old i learned how to throw a punch, according to my parents, that was the anti bullying movement.
The first time, the first time some guy tried to force his way onto me i remembered my training, so i turned his nose into a fountain, my fist five pennies, i closes my eyes, i made a wish, i came home with bloody knuckles and it was the first piece of artwork my dad hung at the fridge.
I remember staring at my hands the same way you stare at a midterm when all your answers are correct. I didn’t know what class this was but i damn sure knew i passed, and isn’t that what standing up for yourself is supposed to feel like.
A bunch of girls afraid to say no, afraid of their own feelings. Terrified of any emotion other than sadness, because that is what we’re used to. Constantly yelling at the shadows on the wall, but still haven’t realized that we’re the ones standing in front of our own light.
We learned how to smile nicely, act innocent, we learned how to say yes sir and no ma’am, be respectful, we learned how to talk nicely, sit act and walk like a proper lady. We learned that the hart is the same size as a fist, but we keep forgetting that they don’t have the same functions.
Society keeps telling boys to man the fuck up, while we don’t even know what the fuck that means.
We turn our boys into bayonets, we point them in the wrong direction, we pull their triggers and then we just ignore all the damage they’re doing in the distance.
The word repurpose means, it means to take an object and give it amnesia, it means to make something forget what it’s been trained to do so you can use it for a better reason.
I am learning that this body is not a fun fair, i am learning that this body, this precious body is not here for his entertainment. I am learning that i am not a target practice, i am not a bulls-eye.
I am learning that his body is not a shot gun, i am learning that his body is not a pistol, i am learning that being a man is not defined by what he can destroy.
I am learning that a man who only knows how to fight, can only communicate in violence and that shouldn’t be anyone’s first language, i’m learning the difference, the difference between a garden and a graveyard, is only what you choose to put in the ground.
You see, once, once i came across a picture of a strange looking violin, the caption said that it was made out of a rifle. I thought to myself that someday that could be him.
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