The other day, my brother, my sister and her friend were just playing around, doing what teenagers do. My dad —who was visiting from North Dakota— and I were both doing our own things in our open dining/living room when my sister’s friend was messing with my brother and introducing herself to my dad as his girlfriend, which my brother began denying profusely. My dad begins chuckling, he is clearly in on the joke, he begins congratulating my brother and complementing my sister’s friend. Then something happened that changed the entire atmosphere. My sister quipped, “Hey, at least he doesn’t have a boyfriend.” My dad’s exact response was “Good because if he did I would kill him, better yet I would take him to Orlando.” Needless to say, this didn’t improve the strained relationship my dad and I had (how we got there is another story for another time) or help me feel safe in my home. Unfortunately, this was not the first time I was privy to such homophobia and hate.

I came out as bisexual to my family almost a year ago, and what a terrifying and exhausting year it has been. It began with the historic Supreme Court decision that made same-sex marriage the law of the land, and I just like everyone else with a Facebook profile, I put that rainbow filter over my profile picture, and I was ecstatic that there was nothing that could stop me from marrying any person I loved. However, the hope and joy quickly dissipated when I was hounded with messages from family members, most who were clergy or of strong Christian faith, asking why I could support such “abominations”, asking, in the most accusatory manner, if I was gay myself, as if that was the worst thing I could possibly be. My mom tried to talk me into reverting my picture back to its rainbow-less state. At this point I was already out to most of my friends, some of whom also identified as queer, and I chose to remain steadfast in my public support for the LGBTQ+ community. I wasn’t going to change that banner for anything. Until I did. On my birthday, just a few weeks after the historic decision, I was beaming as I replaced the rainbow colors of the gay pride flag with the blue, pink and purple of the bi pride flag as I came out publicly to the world. The night before, however, was the most terrifying night of my life. I had my belongings packed and made arrangements with friends just in case things took a turn for the worse when my mom came home from work. However, when I finally came out to my mom, all she said was “Why are you doing this to me?” as if my identity was an ink blot on the clean sheet she thought her life to be.

So, what am I getting at? What is the point in me saying all of this in the wake of the senseless tragedy that took the lives of people who are outside the norm and living their truths— people like me? Most of them had a coming-out moment with their families. Some of them ended up coming out the day they were injured or died. These people met resistance for being who they are from their families, and if not their families, then their friends, and if not their friends, then their communities, and if not from their communities, then society at large. Sure, we are at a point in history where discrimination against LGBTQ+ people is at the lowest point it has ever been, but it is 2016 and we still have people who think “all gays should be killed” or “all gays are pedophiles”. We have politicians trying to regulate bathrooms to protect women from trans people, but either do everything in their power to restrict that of women or completely ignore when women actually need protection. This perpetual ignorance is the reason most LGBTQ+ youths are homeless, abused, or killed when they come out. It is the reason the shooter did what he did. It is a system that does nothing but aim hate towards those who want only to love. Something’s gotta give because I will not stand by idle, doing nothing while my brothers and sisters are being murdered, just for living their truths.