Nashvillians of the Year: The Gun Safety Advocates

Gun safety advocacy is not the kind of work people get into because it’s enjoyable. It’s exhausting, often painful work that forces us to come face to face with horrors — like learning the kind of damage an AR-15 can do to a child’s body, or envisioning a person’s last moments before being gunned down. But it’s work that can also show us the most redeeming aspects of humanity, as people turn tragedy into action, working together to prevent others from experiencing similar horrors. 

On March 27, a shooter armed with legally purchased guns entered the Covenant School in Green Hills, opening fire on staff and students. The shooter killed 9-year-olds Evelyn Dieckhaus, Hallie Scruggs and William Kinney, along with substitute teacher Cynthia Peak, head of school Katherine Koonce and custodian Mike Hill. The tragedy marked an awful new milestone in Tennessee’s history of mass shootings. According to an August report from the Tennessee Comptroller, 49 school shootings have resulted in 12 deaths over the past 25 years. Tennessee Under the Gun, an information hub created by the Tennessee Senate Democratic Caucus, states that there have been at least 21 mass shootings and three mass murders this year alone, resulting in 37 deaths and 80 injuries.

The American Academy of Pediatrics cites guns as the leading cause of death for people ages 24 and younger. The Sycamore Institute also reported this year that guns are the leading cause of death for children in Tennessee, and that Black families are significantly more affected by gun violence. Gun fatalities have increased over the years, while regulations have been rolled back by Tennessee’s Republican supermajority. Tennessee has some of the most lax gun laws in the country, ranking 11th in overall firearm-related deaths (also according to the Sycamore Institute). People can carry firearms in public, and they’re allowed to store loaded weapons in cars. As of Dec. 12, at least 75 percent (1,134) of this year’s stolen guns in Nashville came from vehicles. In 2021, a law allowing permitless carry was passed despite opposition from advocates and law enforcement agencies. While federally licensed arms dealers are required to run background checks, private sellers are not. 

Though the Covenant School shooting marked a new chapter of gun safety advocacy in Tennessee — a chapter that reached fever pitch during August’s special legislative session — it’s a movement that’s been happening for a long time. People like Linda McFadyen-Ketchum of Moms Demand Action have been doing this work for over a decade. Her friend was injured in a 2008 shooting at Knoxville’s Unitarian Universalist Church. (Though McFadyen-Ketchum’s friend survived, Gregory McKendry Jr. and Linda Kraeger did not.)

Shaundelle Brooks has been a vocal presence in the movement since her son Akilah Dasilva was murdered alongside Taurean Sanderlin, Joe Perez and DeEbony Groves in Nashville’s 2018 Waffle House shooting. Brooks recently posted on social media that she’s considering a run for a seat in the state House after having “watched politicians do nothing to stop gun violence.” Jason Sparks began speaking out after his brother Chris Sparks was killed in a road-rage incident in 2016. Rafiah Muhammad-McCormick, whose son Rodney Armstrong was killed in 2020, has also advocated for gun safety legislation and has supported other mothers who have lost children to gun violence.

This is not a comprehensive list of local advocates, and it’s a community that continues to grow. So do the voices demanding change from state leaders.

This year’s Nashvillian of the Year issue — our 34th — honors those who have worked for gun safety in Tennessee. This includes students and community members who rallied at the state Capitol calling for change, or found other ways to advocate for gun safety. It includes doctors, mental health professionals and first responders who have treated gunshot victims. Specifically, the Scene is highlighting three emerging voices in Tennessee’s gun safety advocacy space.

Sarah Shoop Neumann is a parent of a student at the Covenant School. Soon after the shooting, Neumann began speaking publicly and has maintained a consistent presence at the Capitol alongside other Covenant parents united by a shared experience and goal. Maryam Abolfazli has quickly become a well-known presence in the gun safety space post-Covenant, and has done much to encourage civic engagement and teach people how to foster a safer Tennessee. Ibtihal Cheko, a junior at Hume-Fogg Academic High School, has been active with Students Demand Action since March, calling for adults to do more to protect her and her peers.

Sarah Shoop Neumann  

Christmastime feels different for Sarah Shoop Neumann this year. Accessing joy is difficult when you’ve experienced something as horrific as the Covenant School shooting.

“It just seems like the rest of the world gets to keep going on, and I feel stuck in this spot of, ‘Things will never be the same again,’” Neumann, who has worked as a pediatric nurse for well over a decade, tells the Scene. 

Neumann’s son was a preschooler at the time of the shooting, and was not at Covenant when it took place — but he was at the reunification site with the rest of his family afterward. When his parents began decorating for Christmas this year, Neumann’s son asked them not to put out a traditional German holiday ornament featuring a man with a gun. They obliged, but also explained that there are responsible gun owners.

It hasn’t been easy for Neumann and other families in the Covenant School community to contend with the aftermath of March’s events. Three Covenant parents recently shared with The Tennessean how deeply the experience traumatized their children. One child ran shooter drills in her own home after March 27. Some kids are just now starting to talk about it. One parent, Mary Joyce, told reporter Frank Gluck that she can’t shake the mental image of the shooter screaming at the Covenant children. 

As Neumann and other Covenant families cope with their new reality, they’ve also been working to prevent similar tragedies from occurring by maintaining a consistent presence at the state Capitol and advocating for gun safety. Soon after the shooting, Neumann spoke at a protest, reminding those gathered that the Covenant School “had everything” in terms of security — locked doors, shooter training. But it wasn’t enough. 

As someone who has owned guns and “voted conservative my whole life,” Neumann represents a powerful contradiction to a common narrative: that only liberals and urban voters want reform. Other Covenant parents have shared similar messages. A new statewide poll from Vanderbilt University shows that the majority of Tennesseans, including gun owners and Republicans, support stricter gun laws. But because of her advocacy, Neumann has received threats directed at her and her young son. She and other Covenant School parents have been mocked for their efforts. Neumann has also stood up to far-right hate group the Proud Boys. 

“I’m not going to let it stop me,” says Neumann. “If my son has to go to school … knowing that these types of guns exist and that they can come in through a school, I have to be brave enough to deal with it too.”

Neumann isn’t the only one in her community seeking change. In July, she and other Covenant School parents co-founded two nonprofits — Covenant Families for Brighter Tomorrows and the Covenant Families Action Fund. The nonprofits seek to educate others about school shootings while advocating for mental health and school safety support as well as firearm safety. According to the Covenant Families for Brighter Tomorrows website, their goals include “stricter background checks, closing loopholes in gun laws, and supporting legislation that ensures firearms are safely stored and inaccessible to unauthorized individuals,” while still “preserving Second Amendment rights.”

Hoping to spark change, Covenant School parents have shared their stories publicly, testified before legislative committees and met with lawmakers. Though they haven’t been as visible, parents of the students killed on March 27 have also shared statements advocating for and against certain bills during a special legislative session called by Gov. Bill Lee in August to address gun violence. Despite the community’s efforts, lawmakers left Capitol Hill for a second time since the shooting without passing any meaningful gun laws. 

Neumann says reliving those experiences is “retraumatizing.” Of the lawmakers she’s met with, many have been respectful, but she says there’s also been “a lot of dismissiveness.” Although she was able to briefly speak with state House Speaker Cameron Sexton, Neumann tells the Scene his office still hasn’t responded to her request for a meeting.

The Tennessee GOP has been firm in its opposition to passing meaningful gun legislation, even as fellow Republican Lee called the special session and proposed an extreme risk protection plan — that is, legislation removing guns from people who may pose a risk. (Lee has since stated that he won’t push for similar legislation in 2024.) In one committee meeting during the special session, some audience members applauded the failure of a bill designed to allow more guns on school property. They were subsequently kicked out — including Neumann and other Covenant parents who were planning to testify. In another committee meeting that week, Covenant School parents shared horrific details of what happened that day as a means of advocating against another bill that would have allowed more guns on school campuses. The bill still passed through the committee, to the outrage of many spectators, but later failed in another committee. Neumann described the failure of that bill as the biggest win of the session, even though she anticipates it will return next year.

Neumann and her colleagues experienced other wins too, such as having productive conversations with gun owners about firearm safety. In September, Neumann and a Covenant School teacher were invited to Washington, D.C., for the opening of a national Office of Gun Violence Prevention. She described the trip as “bittersweet” — she appreciated being there but never imagined she’d be invited to the White House for this kind of work. Another goal of her trip was to speak with U.S. lawmakers representing Florida to see how that state’s legislature was willing to make bipartisan efforts to pass gun safety laws after the Parkland School shooting. 

“Our goal cannot be damage mitigation,” Neumann tells the Scene. “Our goal has to be prevention, because even the kids that were not shot at are still not sleeping right now, still having to change schools, still waking up in total-body night terrors and shrieking.” 

Maryam Abolfazli

Lately, if there’s a major conversation or protest happening related to the well-being of children in Tennessee, you can bet Maryam Abolfazli or one of her collaborators is involved. Coming from a career focused on nonprofit work and political and economic development, Abolfazli is vocal about everything from LGBTQ rights to the financing of a new Titans stadium and, of course, firearm safety. She is also a mother, a writer and board chair of the Metro Human Relations Commission. 

On March 30, just days after the Covenant School shooting, Abolfazli led the organization of a protest attended by thousands of people — attendees covered a wide spectrum of ages, races, political affiliations and religions.  

Leveraging the energy from the rally, Abolfazli founded Rise and Shine Tennessee, a nonprofit with a mission to build “a culture of civic engagement.” Most of its members’ energy is channeled specifically into advocating for gun safety and education-related matters. Though the nonprofit is still in its infancy, it has already established a significant presence. Abolfazli describes it as “decentralized,” “bottom-up” and “scrappy” — many of its members contribute however they can amid busy schedules filled by work and family responsibilities.

“People are hungry and dying to make their voices heard,” says Abolfazli. After the March 30 protests, she knew she needed “to channel this energy into action.” 

“Then we just did that over and over and over and over again, and it keeps resulting in brave, courageous acts that hold our democracy together just a little bit more as it continues to fall apart,” she says.

One such instance occurred at August’s special session. While Rise and Shine members researched, protested and educated others throughout the week, a few of its members also resisted a restrictive House rule prohibiting spectators from holding signs during House floor sessions and committees. Abolfazli and fellow Rise and Shine members Allison Polidor and Erica Bowton held signs anyway, and were subsequently escorted out of a House committee meeting. The next day, they filed a lawsuit against the House — which they won. Citing the First Amendment, a Nashville judge temporarily barred the House from prohibiting signs. 

Part of Abolfazli’s work is helping people sustain the energy and desire to engage in the political process. She likens it to exercise — it can be daunting to go to the gym regularly, but people usually feel better after they do. Noting that they’re playing a long game, she also encourages people to focus on daily wins, like using social media to counter preexisting narratives or misinformation, voting and speaking with lawmakers. 

“Doing these actions is not just for the sake of democracy,” says Abolfazli. “It’s also for the sake of humanity, for yourself, for community. And being in that work of alchemizing these awful emotions into this kind of sense of progress is psychologically very important.”

This work doesn’t always mean resistance. It also means sitting down with others who hold opposing opinions to better understand where they’re coming from. Abolfazli has done that with lawmakers and gun owners alike, finding commonalities in those conversations, like a shared desire to protect loved ones. 

“How do we get it where you feel like you can protect your family without having a gun?” wonders Abolfazli. 

She says she’d like to see more accountability and regulations for those who own and sell guns. Specifically, she advocates for legislation pertaining to safe storage, background checks, illegal purchasing of guns, magazine capacities and extreme risk protection orders. 

Abolfazli is careful to mention that she couldn’t do this work alone — her community keeps her going, including those inside and outside of Rise and Shine. She acknowledges that others like Shaundelle Brooks have been advocating for gun safety for much longer, and she collaborates with those who came first to strengthen resolve in their shared goals.  

“A lot can be done when there’s a lot of people unified together,” says Abolfazli. “I think that’s really what’s going on. A lot can be done when there’s a lot of people being brave and courageous.”

Ibtihal Cheko

Ibtihal Cheko is a junior at Hume-Fogg Academic High School. She’s a member of Generation Z — also referred to as “the lockdown generation” due not only to time spent in pandemic lockdown, but also to the amount of school shootings and intruder drills its members have contended with in their short lives. She’s a member of her school’s branch of Students Demand Action, a national organization seeking to end gun violence through various approaches, from advocating for commonsense safety laws to registering young voters and educating people about gun violence. Students Demand Action has branches at Hume-Fogg, Vanderbilt University and 12 other high schools and universities across Tennessee. 

Cheko got involved in gun safety advocacy in March, following the Covenant School shooting.  Alongside her peers and through Students Demand Action, Cheko attends regular meetings to educate herself and others about gun violence and related legislation, and to plan for the forthcoming legislative session. During August’s special session, she missed some of her classes to testify in a Senate hearing — but Senate leaders closed the committee meeting before Cheko was able to speak.

“It felt very counterproductive,” says Cheko about her trip to the Capitol. “In that moment, it made me feel really helpless and just unable to do the very little that I can. Because when these tragedies do happen, what they tell you to do is, ‘Oh, speak to your legislators, speak to representatives.’ But when you go out of your way to actually do that and take their advice, you’re not given the opportunity to even say so, and they made me feel very unheard, because I took the time out of my day. … I built up the courage. I wrote a whole speech, and I did a lot to prepare for that. And they weren’t even interested in hearing what I had to say.”

Cheko says that had she been able to testify that day, she would have told lawmakers, “The solution to gun violence is not adding more guns.” She would have advocated for safe-storage laws and other data-driven measures that have proven to reduce gun violence. 

 “The special session was really a disheartening way to start the school year,” says Cheko. She says it doesn’t feel like anything has changed since Covenant. During classes, she still sits in places where she can see the door and wonders how easy it would be for intruders to enter the building.

Metro Nashville Public Schools and other districts across Tennessee have bolstered security over the years. When a shooter killed 19 students and two teachers at Robb Elementary in Uvalde, Texas, the Nashville school system and police department enhanced school security across the district, including a controversial push to add more school resource officers — armed MNPD officers — in schools. Though Cheko told the Scene in August that she doesn’t support the proliferation of SROs, she understands the need for other safety measures like locking doors. 

“I understand why they’re trying to do this,” says Cheko. “But at the same time, I feel like it’s kind of like a Band-Aid on a much bigger issue.”

Cheko says she’s doing everything she can to address that bigger issue — gun violence and the lack of regulations in Tennessee — even as it affects her own mental health, and even though it shouldn’t be up to her or her peers.

“It’s frankly not [young people’s] responsibility,” says Cheko. “You shouldn’t be in charge of keeping people your own age safe. It should be the adults and the people in power and the people who we vote into office to keep us safe in the first place.”

Cheko is also an artist, and she aspires to become an international rights lawyer. With three more semesters until graduation, she plans to remain active in Hume-Fogg’s Students Demand Action branch, and she will step further into a leadership role next year. After that, she intends to continue working with Students Demand Action in college.

“I hope by the time that I am grown enough to have a job, I will be able to focus on something a little bit more fun [and] lighthearted, and not have to keep advocating for gun reform.”

Even so, Cheko knows that might be “wishful thinking.”

“This is kind of a lifetime fight,” she says.

Efforts toward gun safety and meaningful justice for gun violence victims will continue in 2024. As lawmakers return to Capitol Hill, so will advocates and protesters planning to hold them accountable and demand commonsense gun laws. Well aware that it’s an election year, they will be paying attention to how lawmakers respond to widespread calls for gun safety legislation.  

The Covenant School will also continue preparation for students to return to its original campus. Covenant students have been hosted at Brentwood Hills Church of Christ while the school’s original location receives renovations with the help of trauma-informed counselors. The school initially planned for students to convene at the Covenant campus in January, but pushed the start date back to April so they could finalize certain preparations and give students and teachers time to properly prepare for their return.

Meanwhile, those who have lost loved ones to gun violence must continue to move forward. Families will navigate grief as they enter the holiday season, facing empty seats at the kitchen table. Some will continue to advocate for gun safety and face the hardships that come with that work. It’s not pretty work, but it’s important — a matter of life and death.