I was alive for it. I don’t normally get to say that. The Civil War? I wasn’t alive for that. When Germany invaded Poland? I wasn’t alive yet. Even things I was alive for, I don’t really remember. 9/11 – I was alive for that, and I think I remember bits and pieces, but really I think they’re just memories my mom gave to me. But I was alive for this. I was alive and I was conscious and I was awake. I was awake at 2 a.m. when the gunman opened fire in a gay bar in Orlando, Florida.
I was in my bed fantasizing about dating some silly boy. And when I woke up in the morning, I read the news, I heard the news, I saw the news. 49 dead. The largest mass shooting in the history of the U.S., and I was alive for it. But those 50 people, they are not. I wish I was not alive to witness this history being made. To witness fear and hatred and the ugliest side of humanity.
Today my mom called my grandmother, who is gay, just to offer condolences for the loss in her community. My grandmother called back sobbing because she felt so helpless and defeated for just being alive and being herself. For being gay. Her being gay is like water being wet.
It just is, it has always been that way. She always says that to me, “Is the water wet?” whenever I go swimming, just because it’s silly. Being gay is not immoral, or sinful, or ugly. It is my grandma. It is silly, and quirky, and loves refinishing antiques. It is not wrong or fake, it is frozen birthday cake and trips to Cape Cod and letters in the mail to tell me she misses me and that I am her favorite granddaughter, especially because I am her only one.
Her life is not defined by her sexuality, her life is defined by her love of odd birdhouses and limited knowledge of technology and Christmas mornings in her living room. When we go out in public, l I lose her a lot because she is so curious and determined to know everything she can about everything. Are those real plants? She’ll pull a leaf off and tell you. Are those shoes really 30 percent off? She’ll know before you even know what she’s doing.
My grandma does not frequent gay clubs, especially at 2 a.m. because she is a woman in her 60s. But she does volunteer at a LGBT center every week and frequents Provincetown and even goes to Lesbian dances to meet other singles her age. And I have never been afraid for her before. But I am now. I’m afraid that she’ll be working one day and someone will just come up to the front desk where she is working and shoot her in the head because she is a Lesbian trying to give back to her community. My grandma, she isn’t the biggest fan of ice cream, but she’ll always take you if you want some. She wants to hear about your day, and play practical jokes on you whenever she has the chance. I do not want to be afraid for my grandma, and I do not want her to be afraid.
No one should live in fear for just being themselves and loving openly. I know love always wins, but love cannot combat a gun. People were killed. People’s children, partners, best friends, cousins, co-workers, parents. I cannot even begin to comprehend their loss, but I share their fear for my family and friends. No one deserved to die. They deserved to live and love openly, loudly, and proudly. Right now if feels like love doesn’t always win, but I will continue to choose love.
