It is a matter of opinion. I'm a knife and firearm junkie, and carry a nice Spyderco folding knife everywhere I go, short of a courthouse or airport. Most people would look at it and think that it's a weapon. I have never viewed my knives as a weapon primarily. They are, first and foremost, a tool, to me.
This is rather a personal story for me, but I will share it here, to give the opinion of someone who has many firearms, but does not "promote violence." I have numerous firearms, mostly rifles, but a good number of handguns. And I abhor violence. I do not advocate it or promote it in any way, and to own a firearm does not mean that I am promoting it.
I used to think that firearms promoted violence. I used to think "That'll never be me. I'll never get one. People that do are just asking for trouble, they want to use them, they're violent by nature. I live in a safe area. Nothing bad will happen to me." How f*cking wrong I was.
When I was seventeen years old, I was carjacked. I was shot twice and shoved out of the passenger side of the car. They joyrode the car for six hours and left it in a church parking lot, as evidenced by security footage from a convenience shop across the street. It was found two days later. I was shot in the back and thigh so that they could ride around in my stepmother's car for six hours. Yep. Senseless. I can honestly say that violence can happen when you least expect it, and especially when you are wholly unprepared for it.
I lived in fear for four and a half years, until I finally looked at the life that I was living, and decided that I actually wanted to live life. I decided that my life, the one I wanted to live, it was worth protecting. It was worth holding on to, and not letting some try to take it away. Getting my first firearm and concealed carry permit was the best step I have ever taken in life, short of having my children. I trained with it extensively and got to know it inside and out. I felt prepared. I knew that, at the very least, if senseless violence reared its' ugly head again, at least I'd have something. I started going out after dark again. My panic attacks while driving, they lessened. Before that, they were absolutely awful, and happened because of something as simple as a street fruit vendor coming up to my car selling oranges, or if I made a wrong turn into an unfamiliar neighborhood. I'd drive to a well-lit parking lot and pull over and sit sobbing in my car for 10-20 minutes, struggling to breathe and just hating myself for how afraid I was.
I was afraid of everyone I encountered. I didn't date, didn't make new friends, didn't stay out after dark. It wasn't the life I wanted. Now, I at least have some small comfort knowing that I can at least have a chance to protect myself. I have the means and the training, and...this life that I have built, that I love, and these people in it, they are worth protecting. If I am ever in the wrong place at the wrong time, at least I'll have the right means to defend myself if necessary.
Evil doesn't always wear an ugly face. It's not like you can always see it coming and avoid it. My view on firearms,... better to have and not need, than need and not have. I didn't have one when I needed it. I won't make that mistake again.
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Plan the work. Work the plan.