Orlando is political and I am sick of hearing that Orlando should not be politicized.
Anti-LGBTQ+ hatred already terrifies me. I am incredibly grateful to have not suffered any violence because of my sexuality and/or gender identity. Yet at the same time, I know that as a transgender woman of color, I am part of the group most likely to be murdered, assaulted, harassed, denied housing, denied healthcare, discriminated against in the workplace, education, hiring, public accommodations, and even the right to use the bathroom. This carries over into supposed liberal areas like Connecticut, I have been frequently discouraged from coming out and expressing my gender identity. That’s far better than what many members of the queer community face, but it still makes me fearful to even put on a skirt in my own home.
So when I woke up on Sunday and read about what happened in Orlando, I was shaken up in a way I never really had been before by a shooting. Violence is familiar to the queer community, but to think that the worst mass shooting in United States history would occur at a gay nightclub still came as a shock. Queer people have so few genuine sanctuaries, and to see one violated like that was so horribly heartbreaking.
Do you want to know what was even more heartbreaking? Seeing most of the world ignore that it was a queer tragedy. “Thoughts and prayers” went out to survivors and to the family and friends of the victims. Islamophobic rhetoric exploded. People bemoaned yet another mass shooting, yet another tragedy that could have been prevented by common sense gun laws. But rarely did anyone give more than lip service to the queer community. The fact that the shooting occurred in a gay nightclub during Pride Month and is part of a long history of anti-LGBTQ+ violence did not seem to be registered. Even the shooter’s homophobia, the motive for the killing, has been ignored in favor of his ties to ISIS, which, while important, should not be a reason to erase the anti-LGBTQ+ hatred that ended innocent lives.
Before the names of the victims were released, one of my queer friends texted me about how they were afraid that transgender or non-binary victims would be misgendered by the media, as is often the case. When the names were released, we looked through them together, hoping that the gender identity of any of the victims would be respected. We were happy to discover that nobody seemed to have been misgendered, but any feelings of joy were crushed by the overwhelming sadness of reading the names of the victims, learning about who they were, and thinking about how devastating this event must be for their friends and family.
But then sadness turned to anger. How selfish could I have been to see so many headlines about mass shootings pass by and simply tell myself that nothing will change? How could our country do that? Are we really just going to stand by and be complicit in murder? “Thoughts and prayers” are not enough. It is time for action. Actually, it is a criminally late time to take action. It was time for action in 2012, after Sandy Hook. And then in 2014, after UC-Santa Barbara. And once again in 2015, after Charleston, and Roseburg, and San Bernardino. After the over 1,000 mass shootings since Sandy Hook. After all that, we’ve done little to nothing.
This inaction does not just apply to gun control. This was a hate crime, and 2016 is a peak year for anti-LGBTQ+ hatred. Just this month, we saw the 14th murder of a transgender person this year, a transgender woman of color whose name has not yet been confirmed. But her story doesn’t matter much to the media. Neither do the stories of the other 13 trans people killed this year. Anti-LGBTQ+ violence is so common, yet it only matters when there is a mass shooting, and even then the queerness of the tragedy is erased. And then we’re told not to politicize it.
How is this not political? When our rights in housing, healthcare, employment, education, public accommodations, and even bathrooms are politicized, then are we really expected to just shut up and do nothing after members of our community are massacred? We watch every day as conservatives preach hatred against us, as laws are passed to legalize discrimination against us, as members of our community are harassed, assaulted, and killed, and NOW, after a mass shooting, we are told not to get political?
I am not advocating for gun control because I am exploiting a tragedy to further my political agenda. I am advocating for change precisely because I know the names of the Orlando victims, and because I know the names of Amos Beede, Mercedes Successful, Tyreece Walker, Keyonna Blakeney, Shante Issac, Quartney Davia Dawsonn-Yochum, Kandicee Johnson, Demarkis Stansberry, Maya Young, Veronica Banks Cano, Kayden Clarke, Jasmine Sierra, and Monica Loera, the transgender people who have been killed in 2016 alone. Politics should be about helping the people, and I cannot simply sit silently after another tragedy of gun violence and anti-LGBTQ+ hatred.
But how can you actually help? You can march. You can donate. You can volunteer.
And you can listen. Be an ally to the queer community. Anti-LGBTQ+ hatred goes far deeper than this one awful shooting. Violence exists in a pyramid. It is rooted in the hateful rhetoric of conservatives who have pushed for over 200 pieces of anti-LGBTQ+ legislation so far this year. It is rooted in the lack of existing legislation to protect the LGBTQ+ community. It is rooted in homophobia and transphobia. It is rooted in jokes mocking queer people. In hearing someone misgender a trans/non-binary person and not correcting them. In hearing someone use “gay” in a derogatory sense and not telling them to stop. In doing nothing. In inaction.
Despite all of the hatred and discrimination, I still genuinely believe that things can get better. I refuse to accept the idea that bigotry will reign supreme. No, not everyone will change. Some people will always be hateful, but that shouldn’t be a reason to give up. I have seen people change. I have seen them come around. I may not see equality for the queer community in my lifetime, but I have hope.
It’s easy to be cynical. It’s easy to say that there’s nothing we can do. But I reject that. And I hope you do too. We can’t let bigotry win.
Love must trump hate.
