“Hey little n*****s, get outta the park!”
It’s March 6th 2023 in Portland, Oregon. A white man driving a shiny red pickup screams at my kids who are playing in our neighborhood park just before suppertime. The three Black girls, ages nine, eight, and five, scramble wide-eyed across the grass toward me, faces crumpling into sobs. I bend down and hold them, while keeping an eye on the truck. It cruises slowly around before pulling into the far parking lot, headlights pointed directly at us, too distant for discerning plates. The man switches on his flashers, waiting to see what we’ll do next.
It’s drearily familiar. Ever since 2016, when fascist groups began invading Portland, frequently in truck convoys, local groups have organized resistance. We never know who among them might commit another murder spree. The Charleston, Buffalo, Pittsburgh, Colorado Springs and El Paso mass shootings are still fresh. Almost two years ago a violent Proud Boy rally took place near my house and only one year has passed since a fascist opened fire across another nearby park, killing one woman and badly wounding several others including a dear friend of mine. Fortunately antifascist security quickly responded with their AR-15 and incapacitated the man with two well placed shots before he could hurt anyone else.
This situation is nothing new. Men in trucks flashing white power signs. Men in trucks hurling bottles and epithets. Men in trucks rumbling off the road toward families marching against police terror before swerving away at the last moment. I’ve experienced all this. Ordinarily I’d be working with a full security crew, pistols concealed but at the ready in case another deadly Charlottesville style vehicle attack unfolds. Now it’s just me and three children, all so young they can’t comprehend political issues like rising fascism. They aren’t aware that two weeks ago neo-Nazi leaflets were spread around Portland area dwellings to intimidate families like us. Still, like any playground veterans, they understand bullies and clearly see this one hates them because their skin is different from his.
As a white man with a Black wife and Black kids, my social status is split. In most other situations, that fellow in the red pickup would automatically treat me with respect. Maybe swapping jokes on a job site or admiring my own diesel rig. The only times I’ve been asked to leave public parks was by police officers. Exasperated, but politely responding to late night noise complaints from irate neighbors. No exclusions. No checking bottles or IDs. Just: PLEASE LEAVE THE PARK! THE PARK IS CLOSED! Unearned white privilege at its finest.
But sometimes privilege can be a shield. For now, facing off with the red truck, I stay in front, edging slowly sideways while assuring the kids we’ll be ok. It’s only a guess on my part. The man may have nothing left to lose and decided this evening to initiate his Christchurch. Though perhaps he slowly realizes, eliminating just one mixed family before going out in a blaze of gunfire with the cops isn’t quite worth it. Or maybe he notices security cameras posted on a nearby school building pointed right at his tailgate. Either way, he peels out of the lot in a hurry and speeds away, tires screeching.
So we make it home safe. My little ones are shaken but soon distracted by dinner and eventually books before bed. We read them stories about sharing with friends and being kind to others. They can’t help observing that the man in the red truck wasn’t very kind. I’m afraid the park may seem frightening but instead, the very next day they insist we all troop there together again. Everyone runs and swings and chases to their heart’s content, though my gaze constantly monitors traffic. It may seem like victories against bigotry are few these days, but at least our kids won’t let one local fascist ruin their play area. They’re still small… but so brave and we’re so proud of them.
The pandemic has also proven useful to gun control groups, who always find images of militia types effective fundraising tools and aren’t above distorting a medical crisis to push their agenda. For example, in late April the Brady organization sent out an email decrying how some firearm retailers had adopted a drive-through model, claiming “guns should not be sold like fast food” and that this allowed “the quick, curbside pick-up of guns.” Of course, they didn’t mention that federal background checks 
I headed out to the woods for a range day, with an Evo Scorpion and PSA AKV as sub-gun comparisons. For my first test, I threw in a magazine of FMJ rounds, expecting it might need a break in period. Instead, each shot rattled off just fine, the trigger breaking crisply every time. I ran through three more magazines with zero problems. Surprised but pleased, I switched to a mag of Federal 115 gr. +P+ hollow points. Earlier reviews specified GSG MP-40s struggled chambering FMJ rounds and performed even worse with other varieties. Again, no issues. Next I tried the same experiment with Magtech flat-nosed 95 gr. JSP. They worked great also. 
Accuracy was impressive. My partner and I fired casually at cans from about 40 yards and made hits easily. She appreciated how the long forward mass kept it steady in her hands. I definitely agreed. If any contrast appeared between the other guns, it highlighted the advantage that heft ads for follow up shots. My Scorpion is a pure delight, but definitely bounces a bit from recoil. Same with the AKV, though less pronounced, as it has a solid steel fore grip. No such movement from the MP-40. It’s weight could grow annoying slung over your shoulder, but makes double taps feel like it’s tank mounted. 
The safety requires special mention. It’s a 360 degree spinning dial mounted under the receiver just behind the mag well. An arrow points forward for FIRE and crosswise for SAFE, assuming you have time to flip it upside down and check. I used red fingernail polish to highlight the F side and left it black for S which at least allows visual inspection from the side. Still, it’s a pretty questionable system. In times of urgent combat stress, unslinging the MP-40 and verifying its status seems dubious. I’d be curious to know what the WWII German manual of arms suggested regarding that. The best method could potentially be three main conditions. 
Still, it’s important to be sensible about your choices. I remember years ago reading an article by gun expert Massad Ayoob where he discussed ways juries become biased about armed defensive situations. He maintained the more aggressively a firearm was named or appeared played significant part in influencing verdicts. In other words, someone who defended themselves with a Masterpiece Arms Grim Reaper would come across as more sinister than the same person bearing an STI Lawman, even if all other circumstances were the same.
Occupy the 2nd Amendment 