Feeling our Pulse.

So here we are again. A country confused in the the aftermath of another mass execution of innocent citizens. Another situation, where people armed with automatic weapons, decide to make a statement with murder. It keeps happening. My daughter is 9 years old, and I won’t be able to protect her from this sort of violence for much longer.  I don’t know how I will explain it, or why we let it keep happening. As a culture, it appears we have decided there is nothing that we can do to stop it, except to have more weapons.

I am sad. I am angry, and I am sad again.

For me, the pain is more intense this time. The Pulse massacre has hit me deeper.  It is harder for me to turn off the reality of the event in my mind. I am having a hard time turning my mind to my work and family. It is coloring my daily interactions.

Last night I had a girls’ night out with my daughter. The man selling me my shoes, pretty gay and fabulous. The apparent manager at the art gallery we stopped in, pretty gay. So are they targets? When we were set down to our table at dinner, I was going through exit and protection strategies in my head. Is my crowded restaurant a target?  Where would the most defensible position be? Crap, I don’t have a weapon, how could I defend myself. The same thing happened in the bathroom. There is only one entrance/exit to the bathroom. Crap. We did not stay long.

Part of it, I am sure, is that the pain and trauma is cumulative. Something that should never happen, keeps happening. I wonder if the gun advocates think that we are supposed to get used to it? I don’t want my children to have to get used to it. I don’t want my daughter to have to live like this.

Another part of my difficulty with “moving on” this time, is I have more empathy for the young lives that were lost in this atrocity. I feel that I could have been there. I realize the Pulse night club is more than four thousand miles away from us here in Alaska. And to be honest, I actively avoid all conferences and events there, and prefer to go anywhere that is closer. The thing is, if I were in Orlando, during Pride week; The Pulse is where I would want to be.

No, I am not a member of the LGBTQ community, but I am an ally. I frequent gay establishments and events. Granted it’s only about once or twice a year that I go to a club now that I’m in my 40’s, but it is where I am comfortable and have fun.

I had always felt uncomfortable in “straight establishments” where there is the constant worry about the toxic mix of “dominance testosterone” and alcohol. In a straight bar, if you accidentally bump into someone, you can get a glare, a push, a punch. In a straight bar, when a girl is offered a drink or a dance, there are risks and repercussions to each option of response.  It is tiring and I don’t enjoy myself.

I discovered gay bars about 15 years ago, and found a very different experience. Everyone seems more relaxed. I have never been hassled or given an attitude because I am straight, and neither has my husband. We have been warmly welcomed.

Walking into a gay club is like walking into a smile. When I bump into someone, I get a compliment on my shoes.  If I do happen to get a compliment on my body, it isn’t with a leer. I take it as a compliment, and not a pick up line. I can dance with girlfriends. I can dance with guy friends.  Yes, I get “hit on” by girls. Yes my husband gets hit on by guys. And you know what? Its ok.  We smile, we are flattered, and we politely decline, and maybe chat for a while. No big deal. It’s like being invited to a party, “I’m sorry. I can’t make it, but thanks for the invitation.” We still might chat if the music is not too loud.

I think one of the reasons that gay clubs are so welcoming is that they are sort of like a VFW. People have seen a lot of crap, and don't want to deal with any more, unless their hand is forced. All the regulars; the Queers, Dykes, Gays, Transvestites, Lesbians, and “Yet to be decided’s” are all veterans of a domestic war. They’ve had to survive 21 years in a society that doesn’t accept them, where they physically don’t feel safe, to be able to get in the door. It’s their sanctuary, refuge, and community center. It's a safe place to commiserate, revel in life, and throw pretty great parties.

People that frequent these refuges, have come to refer to each other as family. I have heard the word morph from meaning someone who is gay, to slowly umbrella-ing people under the LGBTQ banner. A person who is family, is someone who has traveled their path of struggle. I don't know how many times I have heard the term "they're family," settle everyone's nerves. 

So I want it to be clear to the Heterosexual community, that the attack on the Pulse night club was attack on a sanctuary. This was not 50 random strangers in an airport or other club. It was Latin night. The people celebrating were a doubly marginalized group of Family. Can you imagine the overwhelming sadness you would feel if someone murdered 50 people at your family re-union, or at a veterans memorial? I think that is something that most of us couldn’t process. On top of that grief, our gay friends are feeling the targets expand on their backs.

So if you have notices some of your LGBTQ friends not being a little uptight, you should realize they are under a lot of pressure. It’s still widely socially ok to tell “gay” jokes, and insult a person for being “gay”. Politicians are aggressively working to pass laws making it legal to discriminate against them  and segregateus into "us and them-the unsafe". They are under attack.

I am not LGBTQ. I am human being, and an ally. I still have a pulse, but I do not feel well.
We don’t know when and where hate will explode again. The flames are being fueled by our politicians. I have a need to act in some way. I want to do something to try and make the world a safer place for all of us.

The national chapter or my church has a campaign called Standing on the Side of Love. It is the spirit of what I am trying to do with my time and energy to manage my anxiety. I am working in my church to try and make sure our response to this atrocity is significant and sustained. I plan to be out and seen at my local Pride Parade this weekend. With my writing, my attempts at advocacy, and with my feet; I am working to stand on the side of love as publicly and visibly as I can. 

I still have a pulse.
So do you.
Where do you stand?