This Sunday morning started like every Sunday morning for me. My fiancee rolled over, kissing my shoulders, to leech body heat from me. I took the role of little spoon willingly, snuggled into her arms, and checked my phone.
Sunday morning started like nothing I have ever experienced before, and yet it seems like it happens like clockwork. As I check my Facebook feed, my screen is immediately filled with hashtags. Early that morning, one man held a night club filled with over 300 people hostage. Around 2 a.m., his first shots rang out. Over the next three hours, 49 people were needlessly slaughtered, and over fifty others are now lying in hospital beds injured.
Did I forget to mention, the nightclub was packed with members of Florida's LGBT community?
Police are now saying that this is the worst mass shooting in American history. Sunday morning saw more bloodshed than Virginia Tech in 2007, and almost eight times more than at Columbine High School in 1999.
I am shaken, thoroughly shaken by this event, and it only gets worse. Another man was arrested this morning with fire arms, ammunition, and explosives on his way to L.A. Pride. Thankfully, he was stopped in time.
I am shaken, but I am not shaking with fear. I am angry, I am hurting and I am confused.
The shooter was a man, and while I will not share his name or face, I cannot ignore him. He was 29. My fiancee is 27, they could have been friends in school if life had been different. In almost 30 years of life, something happened that made her a loving, loud, lesbian and him a terrorist. I do not know what that something was, nor how to change the past. I can only look forward, and plan for the day we raise our children. What kind of world do I want to prepare for them?
Sunday marks a new beginning for the LGBT+ community. We are a proud people and we are an angry people. We are people entangled in a war we never started, fighting battles against people we don't know. We do not take up arms against those who threaten us, instead we carry flags. We do not throw grenades, we throw beads and candy. We do not wear armor, but we bravely face hatred in everything from tutus to prom dresses to Borat-inspired men's one-pieces. We have been fighting this war since someone had the bright idea that there was something wrong with us.
June is National Pride Month, which started almost 50 years ago as a violent riot that lasted for days. Pride started with blood in the streets, and nearly half a century later, Pride has blood filling its streets again. America is broken. It will be no easy fix. But in 47 years, we have changed. The alphabet soup has become filled with letters, and we have stood firm and continued the work of those who came before us. I do not ask for more riots. I do not ask for more blood. I ask for life.
We already know we are targets, the 100+ laws proposed against us this year alone prove that. We already know we are in danger simply for existing. But the thing about terrorism is, it feeds on terror. Do not give these men what they want, our fear. Instead, I urge you all to meet me in San Francisco for Pride. Bring your anger, your rage, your exhaustion...but bring your joy, your love, and your pride too, because that is what we are fighting for. That is what 49 of our own died for on Sunday, and what thousands have died for before them.
There are still 53 people fighting in Orlando hospitals. If you want to be an ally, you can find more information here.
