For Indianapolis, Pride Week was a time of celebration, awareness, and most of all, love. But for Orlando, as you all have seen by now, this weekend was a glimpse into Hell. There is so much to say about this act of profound hate, and I have spent so much time weeping for the victims and their families, but I don't want to inundate an already suffering community with too many more words of heartbreak and sympathy. The truth is, I can't comprehend the pain of those who were there. I'm blessed to have not experienced this horror firsthand.
However, there are a few things all of us can do from afar. First, we can act practically, and donate to the Pulse Victims Fund. This is a safe, authenticated place to donate, and I would encourage you to spare a little cash to help make these wounded families financially whole. I donated a small part of my profits from my book stand at Pride. Please stand with me, if you can.
Second, we can stand up to fear and hate. America is not defined by the hateful actions of one deranged citizen (and yes, he was an American citizen, and he acted out of bigotry, not religion). As an ally, you can embrace your LGBT family and friends, you can be vocal for our cause, you can be unafraid of speaking out for what is right. As an LGBT person, you can prove that we are not a community to be broken and sent into hiding. We are here, and we are strong, and we refuse to live our lives in terror.
Have I told you about the night my fiancée, Kelsey, proposed to me? We had, over the past year and a half, become fairly comfortable being a couple in public. Sometimes, we were hesitant to give a quick kiss, or hold hands, or introduce each other as anything more than a friend (you know, just gals bein' pals, nothing to see here). But for the most part, we felt safe. So that night, we rode together in an admittedly cheesy Cinderella-esque carriage around downtown Indianapolis. I had just accepted Kelsey's ring and we were approaching the end of our ride when a man noticed us from across the street and began to lurch toward the carriage.
"THAT AIN'T RIGHT," he announced, because apparently his announcement might change our minds about being in love.
Then the carriage stopped, and we had to get off, because the brusque driver was clearly uninterested in taking us any further than Kelsey had booked. But we were scared. At least, I was. This insane man was just down the block, and our ride wasn't exactly subtle. He was between us and our car, and what if he had a gun? I was both frightened and outraged. How dare he stain our night? How dare he remind me that Kelsey and I still aren't safe in our own city? Just being ourselves?
I feel that rage in me again today, the kind that boils in the throat, burns the eyes as they tear up. And all the more I can say on the topic is that we should all take steps to transform the anger into positive action, and the hate into love.
We also need to take care to protect LGBT People of Color right now (and always). Queer Latinx were the target, and they need a great deal of love from us today. Please remember as well that Muslims, queer or otherwise, are not the enemy here. Keep them safe today and always! Please keep them safe and offer them your love and support!
Now, I do want to talk about the incredible atmosphere of joy and love that defined Indy Pride (or at least my experience of it). Because there are good things happening in the gay community, and even great evil cannot crush the great good that is building.
So, buckle up for a bumpy shift in mood.
