There nothing I can say about the massacre of 50 LGBTQ people of color that hasn’t already been said better, more eloquently, with more thoughtfulness. So why try, right? Maybe I’m grateful to live in the era of social media where sharing the eloquence of others is so very, very easy.
Like almost every other queer person I know, I am taking this mass shooting (never never did I think there would be so many to choose from) harder than all the others before it (even Columbine, which happened single digit miles from me while I was a junior in high school), I have been weepy all week, filled with rage, so very very sad. Like almost every other queer person I know, I am both shocked and not at all surprised by how quickly this massacre was swept under the rug, how much more quickly people jumped to the terrorist rhetoric (like most, when I heard the news I assumed the shooter was a white man, because they are usually the type to express their homophobia in bullets) Like almost every other queer person, my heart aches at how even many of my close friends and family don’t seem to ‘get it’ and even those who seem to are mostly talking about gun control and not homophobia and transphobia.
And I’m wrecked that just days after our beautiful Latinx family was slain, another trans woman of color – Goddess Diamond (#sayhername) was killed. The genocide of trans women of color is much slower than the one that happened in Pulse, but it continues, relentless, without pause. My heart is heavy to raise a white son in this culture, praying both that he does not become the target of hate but even more than he does not become the perpetrator of it either.
And, in the midst of this, there is the deep complexity of one of the biggest transitions of my own life. The excitement about a new possibility, the hope and day dreamy wonder snuggled up right next to the sadness of leaving the friends and family I love, the only place I’ve ever called home. 35 years worth of memories in a single square state. There is too much to feel.