From Newb to Leader: My Journey to A Girl & A Gun
I still remember the first time I picked up a firearm with the intent to actually learn it. Not a range day. Not plinking. A lesson. There's a particular kind of quiet that settles over you when you realize the thing in your hands could change a life in a fraction of a second. That quiet was fear. I'm not going to pretty it up.
If you're standing where I was standing, I want you to know something before I tell you the rest of this story: the fear is not a flaw. It's the first rung of the ladder.
1:1 Training — Fear
My journey started with one-on-one training. Just me, an instructor, a firearm, and about a thousand thoughts racing through my head. I was afraid of the gun. I was afraid of looking stupid. I was afraid of being judged by the men on the range. I was afraid of incompetency. I was afraid of my own fear, honestly, because a small voice kept telling me I should be afraid, I should already know this.
What I learned in those first hours is that good instruction doesn't shame the fear out of you. It walks alongside it. My instructor didn't rush me. He didn't patronize me. He just taught, clearly, patiently, one fundamental at a time, gently urging me to be persistent until to me finally the grip stopped feeling foreign and the trigger stopped feeling like a threat.
PSTC Classes — Learner
From there I rolled into group classes at PSTC. This was the learner phase, and I mean that in the best possible sense. I got to see other people at every stage of skill. I got to ask dumb questions and hear other people ask the ones I was too embarrassed to. I started to understand that shooting well isn't a mystical talent, it's a stack of small, teachable skills built on top of each other.
I stopped being afraid of the firearm. I started being curious about it, about my skill and I challenged my ability with class upon class.
Coaching — Confidence Building
Somewhere in there, my instructors suggested I start coaching. The thought had never entered my journey picture. Structured feedback. Drills with a purpose. Somebody watching what I was actually doing instead of what I thought I was doing. I decided to take on the challenge with a deliberate and cautious approach. This is where my confidence was built, not the loud, performative kind, but the quiet kind that lives in your head. The kind where you draw from your experiences like drawing from the holster and your body and mind already knows what to do next.
Confidence, I learned, isn't the absence of fear. It's evidence that you've done the work.
Instructor — Certification & Acknowledgment
Getting my instructor certification was a turning point I didn't see coming. I thought it would feel like a finish line. It didn't. It felt like an acknowledgment, a formal nod from the people who'd trained me that I was now ready to train others. That shift, from student to teacher, changes how you see every drill you've ever run. Suddenly you're not just practicing for yourself. You're responsible for being able to explain the why to somebody else.
A Girl & A Gun Member — Skill Building
Joining the local A Girl & A Gun chapter was when things got personal in a different way. These weren't clients. These weren't classmates. These were my people, women who understood, without me having to explain, why we needed a space like this. Being a member meant showing up. Working through challenges specific to women. Drilling. Sharpening the edges that coaching had roughed out. Pure skill building, in community.
A-Team — Challenge
I was invited to join the Portland chapter A-team and again was propelled into a cautious and deliberate mindset. Moving onto the A-Team was the first time the work stopped being comfortable again. That was the point, where you're challenged, pushed past the clean, familiar drills and into the stuff that exposes what you have and haven't worked on yet. I wanted that. I needed that. Comfort is where skills go to die, and I wasn't about to let mine atrophy.
Facilitator — Growth & Passing It Along
As time and life changes set afoot, there came the role I didn't know I'd been training for this whole time: Facilitator. This is where the work turns outward. Where you start passing along what was given to you. There's a woman standing in front of me now at the start of every session, gripping a firearm for the first time, carrying the same quiet fear I carried. And I get to be the person who tells her, not with pity, not with a script, but with the authority of somebody who has been there. that you can do it, the fear is just the first rung of the ladder.
Leading and growth isn’t just about you, it’s also about the next woman up.
RSO — Coming Full Circle
Another step in the journey. Becoming a Range Safety Officer pulled all the pieces together for me. Putting skill, safe operations, accident prevention, operational control, facility management and emergency response all into a bundle. It's what I learned in that first 1:1 lesson, and it's what I'm now responsible for upholding on every line I run.
Next Steps - Mastery
The goals I have for myself will never stop. I intend to seek out more certifications and challenges in the future and keep going as long as I can.
If You're Standing Where I Was Standing
Here's what I want you to hear from me, today:
You don't have to be fearless to start. You just have to start.
Every role I have had: Learner, Coach, Instructor, A-Team Member, Facilitator, RSO; started with a woman who was afraid on a range by one patient instructor.
If that's you:
Come train with us 1:1 at Raven and Rose. We'll meet you exactly where you are, no judgment, no shame, no assumptions. Book a private lesson →
Find your people in A Girl & A Gun. The community changed everything for me, and our local chapter is ready to welcome you. Learn about Girl and a Gun
The ladder is right there. I'll see you on it.
— AJ
