What surprised me the most about the National Rifle Association’s annual convention in Houston was just how natural a gun still felt in my hand.
I held a lightweight revolver with a latticed barrel, the metal colored iridescent, shimmering blue pink and gold under the George R. Brown Convention Center’s harsh lighting. Without realizing it, my hands made the proper grip, my finger off the trigger and to the side. I lined up the sights, squinted, cocked, and pulled the trigger. My body tensed.
Article continues below this ad
“It looks good on you,” the company’s representative told me with a wink.
“It feels good,” I said without thinking. I wasn’t lying. “I’m just window shopping, though.”
He went on to explain the design of his funky-looking revolver to me. Most revolvers have the barrel on top. These pistols, he told me, have them lower on the gun to reduce recoil. I nodded as if this was deeply important to me, as if reducing recoil was a thing I spent a lot of time thinking about.
Article continues below this ad
A representative of Chiappa Firearms shows me the Rhino 30DS Nebula .357.
Gwen Howerton/Chron.com
Since I became politically conscious, the NRA represented more than just a gun advocacy association. It was a monolithic, unstoppable force of supposed faith and freedom and all that came with it. I remember the 2017-era forceful Dana Loesch ad where she described a menacing “they” that wanted to take away your God Given Rights and stop your President. I remember how whenever a horrific mass shooting happened, the spectre of the NRA was always there ensuring nothing would be done.
The controversy from when the convention last came to Houston in 2022, just days after 19 children were massacred at Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, was fresh in my mind. Friends of mine drove to Houston to protest, and I remember finding the whole thing distasteful.
With all of that in mind, then, I was trepidatious about going. Not because of a fear or distaste of guns or personal politics, but because I wasn’t sure what to expect. Would there be massive protests or fiery speakers? Would I be inundated with Don’t Tread On Me flags and other conservative paraphernalia? Would people give me weird looks as a visibly transgender person?
Article continues below this ad
But what I mostly found was guns, guns and more guns. People buying and selling them, people entering raffles to win them, people trying to entice me to enter said raffles. I was surprised at how lowkey of an affair it was, and how semi-sparsely attended the convention appeared to be. In fact, if you took away the obvious NRA banners that hung from the ceiling, I could’ve been at any gun show anywhere in the country.
The laser sight of a pistol at the National Rifle Association’s 2026 Convention in Downtown Houston on April 17, 2026.
Gwen Howerton/Chron.com
People mill about inside the George R. Brown Convention Center in Houston, Texas on April 17, 2026 as the National Rifle Association’s 2026 Convention takes place.
Gwen Howerton/Chron.com
Vendors hawk guns at the National Rifle Association’s convention at the George R. Brown Convention Center in Houston, Texas on April 17, 2026.
Gwen Howerton/Chron.com
A pistol on display at the National Rifle Association’s 2026 Convention at the George R. Brown Convention Center in Houston, Texas on April 17, 2026.
Gwen Howerton/Chron.com
I learned more about recoil than I’d ever wanted to. Most vendors I spoke to were selling gizmos and doodads that reduce how much your gun moves. One seller who hailed from Slovenia excitedly disassembled his pistol to show me a spinning mechanism inside that pushed the gun back, instead of up.
Article continues below this ad
“Much more pleasant, as you can imagine,” he told me. The model of pistol I was holding was extremely popular with the Slovenian army, I learned.
A young, jovial man in glasses and a baseball cap explained overcompensators to me as I looked down the laser sight of a 9 millimeter pistol patterned in desert camo. Older gun enthusiasts, he explained, would balk at the concept of using such a device on a small gun. But not him.
“Who cares? I’m trying to have fun when I shoot,” he said with a laugh.
The acute lack of overtly political vibes took me aback. Sure, there were Thin Blue Line flag stickers and guns wrapped in American flags. I saw a shirt of Donald Trump depicted as Goku from Dragon Ball Z. One booth played a video of hunters trawling through a forest as a menacing voiceover told me that the company’s rifles were meant “to stop tyranny.” Sure, Gov. Greg Abbott and several Trump administration speakers will speak this weekend (though Trump himself will sit it out). But there were no protestors outside, and a knife vendor who declined to tell me his name (most people did the same) told me that without the protestors, business was booming.
“Nobody wants to come if they have to get through these protestors,” he said.
Article continues below this ad
A hoodie depicts President Donald Trump as a character from “Dragon Ball Z” at the National Rifle Association’s 2026 Convention in Downtown Houston on April 17, 2026.
Gwen Howerton/Chron.com
It makes sense. Since the NRA’s last shebang in Houston, it’s taken a nosedive. The group’s last president, Wayne LaPierre, the architect of the group’s in-your-face, doom-and-gloom hard-right agenda, resigned in disgrace after it was revealed he had swindled the NRA. Countless gun-rights groups, many of which now deem the NRA as too compromised after it allowed some small gun control measures to pass, have sprung up in recent years on the right and left. As a result, the NRA no longer boasts the membership it once did. With the Gun Owners of America, the Second Amendment Foundation, the Firearms Policy Coalition and other groups filling that void, why join?
With all that, that left the guns. I walked around and held countless in my hands. I know my way around them, having several gun enthusiasts in my family. I don’t shoot, but I know not to point them at anyone. As I shot a realistic but non-lethal laser gun in a shooting simulation, I was surprised by how well I could still aim. There I was, back at the range with my uncle at age 13, blowing the heads off of cardboard targets. My instincts kicked in, and I quickly filled the targets with simulated lead. The booth’s instructor nodded with approval.
As I turned around, I realized a crowd of older, bald men had gathered to watch this vaguely alt-looking transsexual shoot.
“Wow, nice job!” an older gentleman said in approval after I finished. He held out his hand for a fist bump, and I obliged.
Do I agree with the direction of the NRA? Certainly not. But I’m not immune to the allure of a cool-looking pistol and the feel of metal in my hands.
Article continues below this ad
After all, I am American.