In case that wasn’t enough, just this past weekend a gunman entered Pulse, a gay club in Orlando, injured 53 people and killed 49 others. He was there at closing time, last call, when people are usually wrapping up great nights out.
These people weren’t there to protest anything or argue with each other. They wanted to dance and drink and have a good time with friends and loved ones. Now their families are planning funerals instead of weddings and survivors are discussing the guilt they feel about making it out.
As I read article after article about the attack, I picked up my phone to text someone I love and told her she needed to be careful this weekend. Our town has an annual PrideFest event coming up and I know she’s going. She already told me she can’t go to a movie, because she intends to fully embrace every gay inch of her being and enjoy being around those who support her and others that identify as LGBT. I thought about going to the event. It’s always a good time.
Yet, now I’m scared. Now I’m worried that even if the city ups the security, something could happen. I will worry about all of my friends as they post pictures of their celebrating, dancing and drinking. I will wait to wake up on Sunday and make sure that nothing happened and that my friends all made it home safe.
I know there are people who will say that I’m letting the news win. That I’m allowing them to spin me up and barricade myself in my home. To become fearful of my own shadow, because of things that haven’t happened to me, haven’t even happened near me.
