A Community with no Kryptonite: The Heroes of Isla Vista
“You’re wrong, Nolan!” I yelled, pushing up my glasses defiantly, only to be hushed by the steely eyed librarian moments later. My pudgy fingers flipped through one of the many comic book anthologies that lined our desk. I pointed to a particularly colorful image in which Superman, the Son of Krypton, was heroically hoisting a car over his head and crushing it against a rock. “See? Superman can do anything! He has heat vision and x-ray vision, super strength, and he can fly which makes him the best superhero! Definitely better than Batman.”
It was a sunny weekday at Madrona Elementary School when the third recess bell pierced the air, prompting every third grader in the school to file out of their classrooms clutching jump ropes and handballs. Meanwhile, myself and my best friend had chosen to spend our free time in the library as we usually did.
Nolan threw his arms into the air, emoting as children tend to do. “He’s overpowered! He’s so boring! Batman is smart and rich and good at fighting! He doesn’t need to have limitless powers to save people.”
This debate was not a new one, generally occurring once a day sometime between a discussion of the weeks cafeteria menu and deciding whose Dad could beat up whose Dad. Nolan stood in rrepresentation of Batman, the World’s Greatest Detective, who fought crime depending on his gadgets and intuition rather than his alien powers.
“He’s just like any of us, except he’s a total badass.” Nolan grinned victoriously.
It’s no secret that superheroes have been a part of our culture for the better part of a century, capturing the hearts and imagination of children and adults alike. All of us, particularly those of us who consider ourselves civically engaged, can all think back to moments where we heard our own call to action that changed us permanently, our own personal origin story.
Isla Vista experienced an origin story of its own on the night of May 23rd, 2014.
Most people experienced what would hence be known as the “2014 Isla Vista Killings” from their homes in other parts of the country through media coverage or social media updates. Some residents of Isla Vista were lucky enough to be in their locked homes. But the least unfortunate being the ones who had been out enjoying the evening air scattered defenseless and terrified in the crossfire as the bullets pierced the windows of Isla Vista Deli.
“What the hell was that?” said a voice.
“Were those firecrackers?” said another, laughing shakily “That’s Isla Vista for you.”
“No firecrackers don’t fire off in a pattern like that” A grey haired man stood up and regained his posture, “Those were gunshots.”
As the hushed conversations continued, I stood awestruck behind the counter of Blaze Pizza, across the street from the bullet-riddled deli.
As our shock wore off and the room sunk into silence, a woman stood shaking in the door of the kitchen, still partially crouched to avoid any potential gunfire. Her pasty white hands clutched her purse and she looked with horror at the empty street outside. I could recognize a panic attack, as myself and my mother had them frequently. I stood up, my legs still shaky from crouching behind the counter, and approached the woman.
I sat with the woman and talked with her, encouraging her to focus on her breathing. As I coached her, a sense of calm washed over me as I began to follow my own advice.
inhale…1…2…3…exhale…1…2…3
I looked around the restaurant and saw many people doing similar things. The room slowly became divided between the comforters and comforted. People of vastly different ages crying and praying. Complete strangers comparing news updates and contacting loved ones. No one in that room wore a cape, but that restaurant was full of people who were truly heroic.
As the days passed, more information about that night became available. The motive behind the massacre, as well as the utter destruction and loss left in the killers wake, left myself and the residents of Isla Vista feeling utterly wronged, confused, and lost. The shared pain of our tightly interwoven community was palpable.
However, the unity felt by the residents of Isla Vista only strengthened after this event. People began to take action in response to the shootings. The sounds of mourning were soon joined by the sounds of protest.
“Not one more!”
“Yes All Women!”
Everyone felt a sense of purpose in the community because everyone could feel that this was a time where civic engagement was a necessity. Sam Goldman, as well as rest of the Editorial Board of The Bottom Line, focused their actions on preserving the mental well-being of those mourning by reducing media presence in Isla Vista. They did this through publishing articles, providing words for those of us still speechless. They provided a forum in which people could submit their writings regarding the tragic event or memorialize those lost. Student-run news outlets like The Bottom Line and The Daily Nexus were vital to the healing process because they reminded Isla Vista’s residents that they were all united behind a single, pained voice that could not be silenced by the acts of a killer. This is something we need to tell ourselves when we are at our most vulnerable. We are not alone in our pain and we can find the strength to move forward.
Melvin Singh and members of Associated Students, used their resources and social media outlets to organize rallies and memorials as a form of outreach and cloture for the community. People congregated on the beach with their surfboards, paddling out into the cold Santa Barbara water at sunset, defiantly screaming the names of our lost brothers and sisters.
The killer’s name would go unspoken that night.
Spider-Man uses his experiences with bullying as a child to help a boy in need. (From: Marvel STOMPs Out Bullying)My definition of a hero has not changed. A hero doesn’t have to have godlike strength or gadgets to be considered heroic. Superheroes are revered because they recognize the issues that face a community and work to solve these issues with the skills that they have. Super-man isn’t a hero because he has powers, he’s a hero because he chooses to use those powers for a higher cause. Writers played a key role in the healing process following the shootings. Whether it be through keeping a community updated through concise, supported news updates or encouraging the public to act in response to this tragedy to ensure it never recurs. Writing both engaged and mobilized the public to march the streets in silent memorial. It rallied a crowd of hurt Isla Vista residents in Harder Stadium. It made people realize that we weren’t alone in our pain, in fact, we counted among the thousands. There is power in these numbers, and by finding unity through tragedy, we can find the power to heal our community.
Maya Angelou, in a speech given at President Clinton’s 1993 inaugural ceremony, said that “History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage, need not be lived again.” Her poem, “On the Pulse of Morning”, Angelou acknowledges the universal nature of pain and claims that in our pain we can find unity. Steven Beringer relates this idea to writing in his podcast, claiming that civic engagement must from a place of pain and solidarity. When we have experienced pain and devastation ourselves, it becomes easier to empathize with others. She goes on to encourage her audience to believe in our own potential and use it to shape a more positive future. Though we are nearing the year anniversary of the shooting, we are still very much in recovery. Everyone has been permanently influenced by the trauma of that evening in their own way, and everyone has their own methods of healing. We must continue to remind ourselves that though the shooting devastated our community, it did not break us. Isla Vista is made strong by the unity felt by its community. A community that we all have stake in.
It was a sunny weekday at Madrona Elementary School when the third recess bell pierced the air, prompting every third grader in the school to file out of their classrooms clutching jump ropes and handballs. Meanwhile, myself and my best friend had chosen to spend our free time in the library as we usually did.
Nolan threw his arms into the air, emoting as children tend to do. “He’s overpowered! He’s so boring! Batman is smart and rich and good at fighting! He doesn’t need to have limitless powers to save people.”
This debate was not a new one, generally occurring once a day sometime between a discussion of the weeks cafeteria menu and deciding whose Dad could beat up whose Dad. Nolan stood in rrepresentation of Batman, the World’s Greatest Detective, who fought crime depending on his gadgets and intuition rather than his alien powers.
“He’s just like any of us, except he’s a total badass.” Nolan grinned victoriously.
It’s no secret that superheroes have been a part of our culture for the better part of a century, capturing the hearts and imagination of children and adults alike. All of us, particularly those of us who consider ourselves civically engaged, can all think back to moments where we heard our own call to action that changed us permanently, our own personal origin story.
Isla Vista experienced an origin story of its own on the night of May 23rd, 2014.
Most people experienced what would hence be known as the “2014 Isla Vista Killings” from their homes in other parts of the country through media coverage or social media updates. Some residents of Isla Vista were lucky enough to be in their locked homes. But the least unfortunate being the ones who had been out enjoying the evening air scattered defenseless and terrified in the crossfire as the bullets pierced the windows of Isla Vista Deli.
“What the hell was that?” said a voice.
“Were those firecrackers?” said another, laughing shakily “That’s Isla Vista for you.”
“No firecrackers don’t fire off in a pattern like that” A grey haired man stood up and regained his posture, “Those were gunshots.”
As the hushed conversations continued, I stood awestruck behind the counter of Blaze Pizza, across the street from the bullet-riddled deli.
As our shock wore off and the room sunk into silence, a woman stood shaking in the door of the kitchen, still partially crouched to avoid any potential gunfire. Her pasty white hands clutched her purse and she looked with horror at the empty street outside. I could recognize a panic attack, as myself and my mother had them frequently. I stood up, my legs still shaky from crouching behind the counter, and approached the woman.
I sat with the woman and talked with her, encouraging her to focus on her breathing. As I coached her, a sense of calm washed over me as I began to follow my own advice.
inhale…1…2…3…exhale…1…2…3
I looked around the restaurant and saw many people doing similar things. The room slowly became divided between the comforters and comforted. People of vastly different ages crying and praying. Complete strangers comparing news updates and contacting loved ones. No one in that room wore a cape, but that restaurant was full of people who were truly heroic.
As the days passed, more information about that night became available. The motive behind the massacre, as well as the utter destruction and loss left in the killers wake, left myself and the residents of Isla Vista feeling utterly wronged, confused, and lost. The shared pain of our tightly interwoven community was palpable.
However, the unity felt by the residents of Isla Vista only strengthened after this event. People began to take action in response to the shootings. The sounds of mourning were soon joined by the sounds of protest.
“Not one more!”
“Yes All Women!”
Everyone felt a sense of purpose in the community because everyone could feel that this was a time where civic engagement was a necessity. Sam Goldman, as well as rest of the Editorial Board of The Bottom Line, focused their actions on preserving the mental well-being of those mourning by reducing media presence in Isla Vista. They did this through publishing articles, providing words for those of us still speechless. They provided a forum in which people could submit their writings regarding the tragic event or memorialize those lost. Student-run news outlets like The Bottom Line and The Daily Nexus were vital to the healing process because they reminded Isla Vista’s residents that they were all united behind a single, pained voice that could not be silenced by the acts of a killer. This is something we need to tell ourselves when we are at our most vulnerable. We are not alone in our pain and we can find the strength to move forward.
Melvin Singh and members of Associated Students, used their resources and social media outlets to organize rallies and memorials as a form of outreach and cloture for the community. People congregated on the beach with their surfboards, paddling out into the cold Santa Barbara water at sunset, defiantly screaming the names of our lost brothers and sisters.
The killer’s name would go unspoken that night.
Spider-Man uses his experiences with bullying as a child to help a boy in need. (From: Marvel STOMPs Out Bullying)My definition of a hero has not changed. A hero doesn’t have to have godlike strength or gadgets to be considered heroic. Superheroes are revered because they recognize the issues that face a community and work to solve these issues with the skills that they have. Super-man isn’t a hero because he has powers, he’s a hero because he chooses to use those powers for a higher cause. Writers played a key role in the healing process following the shootings. Whether it be through keeping a community updated through concise, supported news updates or encouraging the public to act in response to this tragedy to ensure it never recurs. Writing both engaged and mobilized the public to march the streets in silent memorial. It rallied a crowd of hurt Isla Vista residents in Harder Stadium. It made people realize that we weren’t alone in our pain, in fact, we counted among the thousands. There is power in these numbers, and by finding unity through tragedy, we can find the power to heal our community.
Maya Angelou, in a speech given at President Clinton’s 1993 inaugural ceremony, said that “History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage, need not be lived again.” Her poem, “On the Pulse of Morning”, Angelou acknowledges the universal nature of pain and claims that in our pain we can find unity. Steven Beringer relates this idea to writing in his podcast, claiming that civic engagement must from a place of pain and solidarity. When we have experienced pain and devastation ourselves, it becomes easier to empathize with others. She goes on to encourage her audience to believe in our own potential and use it to shape a more positive future. Though we are nearing the year anniversary of the shooting, we are still very much in recovery. Everyone has been permanently influenced by the trauma of that evening in their own way, and everyone has their own methods of healing. We must continue to remind ourselves that though the shooting devastated our community, it did not break us. Isla Vista is made strong by the unity felt by its community. A community that we all have stake in.