87% of citizens say that “political polarization is a threat to America,” according to a 2024 study conducted by the Listen First Project. The problem is escalating into politically motivated violence resulting in everything from the murder of elected officials to violence at public protests advocating for peace. Despite an overwhelming despondence creeping over the United States, through research, process and commitment Dr. Micheal Siegal and his team have discovered there is a way back to us.
There’s a Way Back to Us is a documentary rooted in the urgent hope that Americans, even across vast ideological divides, can still find common ground. Centered on one of the nation’s most polarizing issues—gun policy—this film is not just about what we believe, but why we believe it, and what it might take to trust each other again.
At the heart of this story is the question of control—a word that echoes loudly in American political discourse. Control of rights, control of bodies, control of public space, and personal power. In the conversation around guns, “control” becomes a cultural fault line. But we’re not only interrogating what it takes to give up control—we’re asking what rewards might supersede control, and what conditions give us permission to believe that compromise isn’t just possible—it’s preferable.
There’s a Way Back to Us brings together a diverse group of Americans—gun owners, survivors, veterans, law enforcement officers, teachers, and activists—for a bold civic experiment. Instead of debating, they’re invited into structured, facilitated dialogue to explore their lived experiences, shared fears, and individual beliefs. Their challenge: to co-create a gun safety policy proposal that reflects their common values, not just their political affiliations.
Historically, gun ownership in America has been tied to identity—particularly in rural and conservative communities where it symbolizes freedom and self-reliance. In contrast, many urban and marginalized communities, especially Black and Latino communities, associate guns with loss, trauma, and systemic neglect. These conflicting narratives are often flattened into partisan soundbites, leaving little space for truth, empathy, or nuance.
Through candid, cinematic storytelling, the film highlights how our language shapes division. Words like “gun control” trigger defensive reactions, while terms like “safety” or “responsibility” can soften barriers. We show how reframing conversations opens new
pathways toward connection—and how emotionally charged issues, when held with care, can lead to transformative dialogue.
We’re interested not only in the political, but in the personal: what it takes to be vulnerable in front of someone you were raised to fear or oppose. What happens when a veteran hears a survivor’s story—and vice versa? When a gun rights advocate sits across from a trauma nurse? These aren’t just conversations; they’re invitations to see each other as full human beings.
The stakes are painfully clear: over 40,000 gun deaths per year, rising youth suicide rates, mass shootings, and an increasingly paralyzed political system. Americans want safety—but we’ve been taught that our neighbor’s safety means less of our own. This film pushes back against that zero-sum framing. It insists there is another way.
There’s a Way Back to Us is ultimately a story of democratic courage—of letting go of certainty to make room for collective wisdom. It captures the difficult but essential journey from fear to trust, from rhetoric to relationship. It suggests that the real solution to polarization is not silence or agreement—but honest, courageous engagement.
As the participants learn to listen, challenge, and collaborate, they build not only policy but a model—one that could be replicated in classrooms, councils, churches, and communities across the country. Gun safety is the lens, but the deeper message resonates far beyond a single issue: we can heal what’s been fractured. We can learn to talk again. We can, in fact, find our way back to us.
I come to this story as an Emmy-winning videographer who cut her teeth covering news on the South Side of Chicago—where the urgency of violence and the complexity of its roots demand both clarity and compassion. I’m also the daughter, granddaughter, niece, and cousin of police officers. I come from a long line of responsible gun owners—and I own a firearm myself. These truths are not in conflict; they are the foundation of my perspective.
As a certified conflict resolution facilitator, I’m trained to hold space where opposing views can surface without collapsing into division. That lens—combined with my lived experience—shapes every choice I make as a storyteller.
As a woman of Black, Puerto Rican, and Choctaw descent, I also carry the layered experience of being perceived through multiple lenses before I even speak. That informs my deep commitment to building trust with both participants and audience.
This project isn’t about forcing consensus or offering easy answers. It’s about illuminating how our identities, beliefs, and fears intersect—and what it takes to listen through that noise. My goal is to create a container where honest reflection is possible, and where new understanding can quietly begin to grow.
