I was shot in the head as a child. It took 20 years, and other survivors, to heal

On April 3, 2000, when I was 10 years old, I was shot in the head. I was on an errand for my mother in East Mount Airy when someone opened fire near me.

My shooter has never been caught.

I spent weeks in a coma. I couldn’t speak for six months. I needed a wheelchair for a year and a half. I had to relearn how to walk, talk, and write with my left hand, as my right side was partially paralyzed. People teased me, because I walked and talked differently. Over the years, I saw no future for myself. I wished I hadn’t survived the shooting, and tried to take my own life more than a dozen times.

I was also angry. I thought about what my life might have been if I hadn’t been shot that day, all the potential that was robbed by a bullet — maybe I would have been an NBA player, or running a company. Mostly, I was angry at the people around me. I felt as if no one in the city or state cared what happened. When it comes to gun violence, we talk more about murders than survivors, but more than 1,000 Philadelphians have survived a shooting in 2022 so far. How will this affect the rest of their lives?

» READ MORE: Shot in the head at 10 in Philly, he’s now an antiviolence activist

I decided to make a documentary that I called They Don’t Care About Us. The goal was to expose how survivors of gun violence have been abandoned by the city and the people who are supposed to be in charge.

But while filming it, something changed for me.

Once I began interviewing other survivors of gun violence, hearing their stories and how they had processed their trauma, I began to process mine.

In talking with other survivors, I discovered the reason why I survived that night 22 years ago. My purpose is to help other gunshot victims and protect others from the same fate by leading antiviolence rallies, mentoring young men, and telling my story at events.

I do all of this to help my community. But as I do it, I am healing myself.

“I do all of this to help my community. But as I do it, I am healing myself.”

I talked to Uhara “Free” Russ, who was shot seven times by her ex-boyfriend in January 2008, who then shot himself. I asked her what it means to her to be a survivor of gun violence.

“For years, it felt like you were the loneliest person in the world,” she told me, tearing up. She confessed there were times she felt as if she didn’t want to be in the world anymore. “But you have to figure out how you want to live this life, on your terms.” She appreciates now the “odd, strange, special connection with various people” she has, who like us, are also survivors of gun violence.

Today, if she met a woman who experienced the same thing as she did, she would tell her: “You have work to do. But know that the work is worth it.” Now, she is a registered nurse; when we spoke, she was expecting a much-longed-for baby.

I spent time with Semaj Obranty, who, like me, was shot in the head at age 10 when he got caught in crossfire on his way home from school. Like me, he also had to relearn how to talk and walk; at 13, he still talks slowly, and he and I have the same walk. We both wear hoodies to hide our scars.

“Do you ever get angry?” I asked him.

He shook his head. He doesn’t get mad about what happened, or ask, Why me? “At the school, they think I’m different,” he told me. “But I’m not.”

On March 26, 2007, Leon Harris was shot in Upper Darby during an attempted robbery. He was 17. He was paralyzed, and will need a wheelchair for the rest of his life.

I found Leon on Instagram, and he initially didn’t want to talk; he told me he didn’t want anyone to exploit his story. But when I told him I was a victim, too, he agreed to meet. He showed me how he modified his car so he can drive without the use of his legs; he introduced me to his beautiful daughter. I asked if he feels he has been robbed of his life.

“Every day,” he told me. “Everything I do is difficult. Everything I do is a struggle. Everything I do I have to figure out how to do.” But he’s doing it. He’s married, and starting a new job, working his way toward a career in cybersecurity.

Free, Semaj, and Leon weren’t letting anger stop them from building a new life for themselves. So gradually, I began to let mine go. All the people I was angry at — the city, the politicians — didn’t pull the trigger. I realized it was up to me to fix my life, and discover why I survived that night. My work gave me the answer: I’m here to help my community.

That said, it shouldn’t be only up to survivors to help each other. Over the course of the project, I realized there are public resources available; Leon, for instance, received help from a nonprofit that offered waivers he used to hire an attendant to care for him. He also received funds from Pennsylvania’s Victims Compensation Assistance Program, which pays millions of dollars per year to crime victims in the state. But as always, more support is needed — too many shooting victims wait for too long to obtain help to modify their homes for wheelchairs and other equipment.

I still think sometimes about what my life might have been if I hadn’t gotten shot. But I was. I may not be able to go back to April 2000, but I believe I’ve been put on this Earth to save other people from the same fate. And that feels amazing.

Oronde McClain is an antiviolence activist and the Credible Messenger Newsroom Liaison at the Philadelphia Center for Gun Violence Reporting. @orondemcclain1