The strict self defense laws were when I lived in Manhattan. After the sun went down, things got crazy on a regular basis. I’m not an aggressive looking dude—skinny hippy type. I never started anything, but in the two years that I lived there, I was rushed head on by meth addicts twice, nearly mugged by a man in a ski mask, stalked in a park, and aggressively confronted by drunks at the subway platform many times.

I can’t explain it. I guess I just look like someone to bully if you are a specific kind of jerk.

I now live in a different state, but the worsening conditions in the country have caused my neighborhood to explode with the homeless and addicted. People have set off the fire alarm three times in the last year and tried to break into apartments when people open the door to evacuate. One of the people robbed was my next door neighbor—that is when I decided to buy a firearm. My apartment has only one exit, so if someone gets through my front door, I am essentially blocked in with no way to retreat.

It wasn’t a decision I made lightly or even desired, but life taught me that I needed to be ready to defend myself.