My mind is throwing thoughts in all sorts of directions, so I’m going to try to sort through them in the way I know how. I woke up Sunday, June 12, came downstairs, and received news from my father, who was already on his computer reading up on the news, that there had been a shooting in Orlando, Florida just a day after singer Christina Grimmie was shot at her meet-and-greet event.
I wish I could say I was surprised, I really do. And the fact I wasn’t infuriates me. Breaking news headlines of shootings are way too common, and it is the same situation. Over and over and over and over again. The same situation affects different towns and tears apart the hearts of different loved ones. Any day, it could happen to me or you.
When I first heard the shooting took place at Pulse, a gay nightclub, I didn’t think much of it. “It doesn’t matter what kind of club it was,” I thought. “This was a random, sick act. It could’ve happened anywhere.” I wish my naiive first thoughts were the right ones to have. As a proud bisexual woman, I am angry, and I am scared. This was an attack on my specific community, and an attack on humanity as a whole. We took one step forward in 2015 because I am now able to marry a woman that I love, but we took two steps back because I could be shot whilst saying “I do.”
The United States has always been a country that has encouraged people to be themselves. With one act of violence after another, that has been taken away from us. We cannot be ourselves. Our way of routine has been infused with hyperactive vigilance, fear and horror. When I go to a concert, I clutch my phone just a little bit tighter in case I will need to phone 911. When I go to a movie, my heart sinks and my guard rises as the lights go down and I can’t see my surroundings. As I walk around the mall, I focus in on the exit signs close by. This is all pure instinct for me. It is pure instinct that has been instilled by other people’s sickness, hate, and anguish. There is a difference between general safety and having a specific fear you can’t leave the house without returning home. You just never know.
I love my country, and I am proud to be an American. But, just like any other place, we have our faults. We worry about pieces of metal rather than the pieces of our hearts. I whole-heartedly believe that we would much rather see two men holding guns than holding hands. It makes me sick. It makes me tired. It makes me sad. If I feel this strongly, I can only imagine how I would feel if I were personally victimized by a shooting.
Thoughts and prayers are nice and all, for they show that people are thinking of those affected by this tragedy. I myself want the families of the victims to know I am thinking of them. The harsh reality is though, we need more than that. Instead of #PrayforOrlando, we need to be seeing more of #ChangeforOrlando. These innocent people have had their lives taken, and a prayer won’t change that. I'm not only thinking of these families, I'm signing petitions and engaging in conversations about gun control. THAT is how we create change. Maybe regulation will prevent the outpour of prayers in the first place.
