Pulse
There are times in my life of being a
writer when I feel I must write. I must speak about what has occurred. Not
doing so feels irresponsible. This is one of those times, when I simply must
write.
June is the time of the LGBTQ pride
events, a time when members of the LGBTQ community get together for week long
festivals, often culminating with a parade. This is a national event that takes
place during the month of June. In fact, U.S. President Barack Obama just named
June national Pride Month.
Just twelve days later, the word pride
took on an entirely new connotation. This past Sunday, the U.S. awoke to learn
that in the early hours of the morning, there had been a mass shooting at a gay
night club in Orlando, Florida called Pulse.
*An important note, in discussing this
horrific act of violence, I will refer to the man who did this as “the gunman.”
I will not mention the man’s name; I will not show his picture.
The Orlando pride festival was last week.
The Pulse night club, a gay night club, was hosting a Latin Night event as part
of Pride. The night was full of music and dance, laughter and joy. No one in the club knew of the carnage to
come.
At around 2am, a gunman entered the Pulse
night club, went to the back of the club and opened fire. There were over 300
people in the Pulse night club at the time.
An off duty police officer exchanged
gunfire with the gunman. The officer received an injury to his face, but survived
the attack. Many escaped the night club amidst the chaos of the gun fight. Some
hid from the gunman in the restrooms of the club. One young man named Eddie
sent his mother text messages during the attack.
After the initial period of shooting,
there was a 3 hour window in which the police communicated with the gunman via
cellphone. During these conversations the gunman declared his allegiance to
many known Muslim extremist terrorist organizations. (This would later prove to
be false.)
After three hours of negotiations with
the police, the Orlando police raided the Pulse night club. An armored vehicle
was used to open up a wall into the club, at which point many of the hostages
fled, running for their lives. There was then a gun battle between the gunman
and police. The gunman was shot and killed.
After the massacre, early numbers put the
casualties at 20 victims. However, as the investigation continued, the number
of persons killed climbed to 49. 53 people were injured.
Survivors who were in the club are now
revealing what they went through in those moments of sheer terror.
“I tried to get back up but everyone started running
everywhere — I got trampled over, and I shattered and broke my bones in my left
leg…All I could do was just lay down while everyone was just running on top of
me, trying to get to where they had to be…He’s shooting everyone that’s already
dead on the floor, making sure they’re dead…I look over, and he shoots the girl
next to me. And I’m just there laying down and I’m thinking ‘I’m next, I’m
dead.’ So I don’t know how, but by the glory of God, he shoots toward my head
but it hits my hand, and then he shoots me again and it hits the side of my
hip. I had no reaction. I was just prepared to just stay there laying down so
he won’t know that I’m alive.”-Angel Colon
“He
was shooting his machine gun, so we’re all scrambling around the bathroom,
screaming at the top of our lungs...People were getting hit by
bullets, blood is everywhere…I could see piles of bodies laying over the toilet
seat and slumped over, and the bottom of the toilet was slumped over with
handprints and blood…At that point, I was just like, `I really don’t think I’m
going to get out of here.”-Patience Carter
As news began to come out regarding the
gunman, he was described as being abusive, racist, and homophobic.
Some have come forward that personally
knew the gunman, and were close to him. Many have said that the gunman had
homosexual tendencies himself.
This massacre was a premeditated attack on the LGBT community. I am not a member of the LGBT
community. However, I like to think of myself as an ally. I have written about
my participation in the Indianapolis Pride parade, in 2014…
…and in 2015.
I was not able to participate in this
year’s Pride event. However, I feel blessed to have been able to participate in
years past. Marching in the Pride parade let me know what the event was all
about. Pride is a declaration of who you are, what you are, what you believe
in, who you love. Pride, simply stated, is a celebration of the self.
The Pride festival and parade has been a
national event since the riots at the Stonewall Inn in June, 1969.
The purpose of the first Pride parade was: “…a
promotion to LGBT self-affirmation, equality, dignity, and acceptance, and to
eliminate the social stigma surrounding the LGBT community.”
One of the founders of the Pride parade,
Fred Sargeant, who had been at the Stonewall riots, wrote about the first Pride
parade for the Village Voice:
“One year after the Stonewall Riots galvanized New York’s
fearful gay men and lesbians into fighters, a handful of us planned our first
march. We had no idea how it would turn out. We weren’t even certain we would
be granted a permit. And now, here we were, June 28, 1970, with people gathered
west of Sixth Avenue at Waverly Place. We wondered if we would be able to get
them to move off the curb. This was long before anyone had heard of a “Gay Pride March.”
Back then, it took a new sense of audacity and courage to take that giant step
into the streets of Midtown Manhattan. One by one, we encouraged people to join
the assembly. Finally, we began to move up Sixth Avenue. I stayed at the head
of the march the entire way, and at one point, I climbed onto the base of a
light pole and looked back. I was astonished; we stretched out as far as I
could see, thousands of us.”
For this massacre to happen in a gay
night club, during the Pride event, it intensifies the tragedy. It is a visceral
blow to the LGBT community, to the very heart of what Pride is all about. To attack a
group of people in the midst of their yearly celebration, in the happiest time
of the year, in a place where everyone felt safe to be who they are, is
unconscionable and deplorable.
For many, LGBT community is more than a
network of friendships, it is a family. I have heard many stories from members
of the LGBT community that say they were rejected by their family when they came out as
being homosexual. The LGBT community then becomes a surrogate family for one another.
After the attack, many people went to hospitals to donate blood to the shooting victims. However, many
homosexual men were turned away. You see, it is illegal. Any
gay man that has been celibate for a year may give blood. However, for any
sexually active gay man, donating blood is illegal. When their community, their
family, needed them most, they were turned away because of a law based on
stereotypes and prejudice.
This massacre at the Pulse night club has
also sparked renewed discussions of gun violence, and gun control in the U.S.
There have been 173 shootings in the U.S. so far this year. The U.S. has a
third of all of the shootings around the planet.
In the days since the massacre, there has
been a discussion about the type of weapon used in the shooting, reported to be
an AR-15 type rifle. This is a military grade weapon that is designed for one
purpose-to kill people. This gun was the weapon of choice in the Sandy Hook
shooting in 2012…
….the shooting in the movie theater in
Aurora Colorado in 2012…
…and the shooting at the office Christmas
party in San Bernadino, California in 2015.
Many in the U.S. are wondering, How did this happen? How is this still happening? When
will Congress act? How many people have to die before something is done?
In the midst of these discussions, I
learned that this climate of gun violence in the U.S. has to do with, in part,
with the lift of the ban on automatic weapons. In 1994, a ban on automatic
weapons was passed by the U.S. Congress. However, this ban was lifted in 2004
by President George W. Bush.
I have also written about gun violence before
on this blog. I have posted these essays on social media when another tragedy occurs.
After a while though, it was happening too often to post. When reporters in
other countries report on a mass shooting in the U.S., they refer to it as “another
day in the United States.”
While I have written and shared my thoughts on
this blog and on social media, I have said statements such as, “Hate is not an
American value. We are better than this.” Apparently hate is an American value.
Many of the mass shootings that have happened in the U.S. have been perpetrated
by Americans. The gunman who massacred 49 people in the Pulse night club was
born in Queens, New York.
Last month I watched a documentary about
gun violence in the U.S. called “Under the Gun.” The movie discusses gun
legislation, the National Rifle Association (NRA), and more. The documentary
also shows parents who lost family members in mass shootings in the U.S.,
including a father whose son was murdered in the Sandy Hook shooting, a mother who
lost her daughter in the Aurora, Colorado movie theater shooting, and
Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords, who herself was a victim of gun violence in
2011. The movie is now available on iTunes, the Google Play store, on Fandango
Now, Amazon, On Demand and more. I urge everyone concerned about gun violence to watch
this movie. It will anger you, inform you, and inspire you to take action.
In this time of national crisis, amidst
conversations of Islamic extremism, homophobia, and gun laws in the U.S., the
country has come together in outrage and solidarity for the senseless act of
violence that happened at the Pulse night club. In fact, people around the world
have come together to show their support for the LGBT community and to grieve
for the lives lost that day.
There are others that have reached out to
the victims’ families-those who lost family members themselves to gun violence.
Nelba Marquez-Greene, who lost her daughter in the Sandy Hook massacre, had
this to say to the victims’ families in Orlando…
“I am sorry that our tragedy here in Sandy
Hook wasn’t enough to save your loved ones…I tried, and I won’t stop trying.”
The young man named Eddie that I
mentioned before, who sent his mother text messages while he hid in the
restroom during the attack on the Pulse nightclub, did not survive the attack.
He and 48 others were found dead in the nightclub.
49 people lost their lives in a gay
nightclub known as the Pulse, a place where club goers felt safe to be who they
were without scrutiny or ridicule, prejudice or hatred. That safety was
shattered forever. For 49 families, life will never be the same. Here are the
victims of the attack:
In times like this, it is easy to feel
lost, hopeless, and helpless. My heart breaks for the families who lost loved
ones in the massacre on the Pulse nightclub. When the news broke of the attack,
I felt completely helpless. I was glued to the television, watching in
disbelief and shock as the horrific details of the event unfolded.
However I stand here today feeling hopeful amidst of grief. I am not
helpless in this tragedy. I have the power to act. I have the power to contact
my representation in Congress and demand that stricter gun laws be passed, to
prevent this happening ever again.
If you are feeling helpless in the midst
of this unspeakable violence, know that you have more power than you realize. Take
action. Contact your representatives in Congress and tell them to pass gun
reform laws now.
To the members of the LGBT community, and
to the victims’ families, you are in my prayers. I pray that not one more
incident happens in this country. I pray our leaders in Congress act
swiftly to prevent another tragedy.
Gun violence is not a communicable
disease, it is not a cancer. It is a plague on mankind that is 100%
preventable.
The Pulse night club was established in
the year 2004 by Barbara Poma, to honor the life of her brother John, who was
homosexual and died of AIDS. The name Pulse, you see, represents her brother’s
heartbeat.
https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/morning-mix/wp/2016/06/13/more-than-just-another-gay-club-pulse-was-founded-in-her-brothers-memory-and-named-for-his-beating-heart/
While Pulse names the location of a horrific massacre towards the LGBT community, it now also represents the heartbeat of the LGBT community, ever resilient and steadfast in the face of unspeakable violence.
The Pride festival will continue. Pride in 2017 will be a celebration of the self, as well as a time of representation and remembrance. The massacre at the Pulse night club will be talked about for generations to come, much like the Stonewall.
The pulse of the LGBT community still beats. It is a heartbeat you cannot silence.
https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/morning-mix/wp/2016/06/13/more-than-just-another-gay-club-pulse-was-founded-in-her-brothers-memory-and-named-for-his-beating-heart/
While Pulse names the location of a horrific massacre towards the LGBT community, it now also represents the heartbeat of the LGBT community, ever resilient and steadfast in the face of unspeakable violence.
The Pride festival will continue. Pride in 2017 will be a celebration of the self, as well as a time of representation and remembrance. The massacre at the Pulse night club will be talked about for generations to come, much like the Stonewall.
The pulse of the LGBT community still beats. It is a heartbeat you cannot silence.
Below are website links to resources
about mass shootings in the U.S. If you have an interest, please take a moment
to read more about this vital issue.
I will now leave you with a poem I found
on social media, written by John Pavlovitz. It is called, “The Forgotten
Children Killed in the Orlando Shooting.”
49 children were murdered in a night club
in Orlando this week.
49
sons and daughters, carried in the swollen bellies of mothers who waited
breathlessly for them to arrive.
49
nurseries prepared with brightly colored walls and soft, and furry animals just
waiting to welcome them home.
49
smooth, helpless, perfect bundles, cradled in the crook of the arms of proud,
nervous parents and loving siblings and beaming grandparents.
49
middle of the night cries, rushed to by sleepless caregivers whose very voices
quieted the fear.
49
sweet-smelling heads with swirls of fuzzy hair spirals.
49
pairs of doughy hands, pulling themselves up onto end tables, and one moment
pushing away and reaching toward outstretched arms.
49
pairs of wobbly legs begin to find their strength.
49
first words, greeted with wild exuberance by tearful, applauding
witnesses.
49
first days of school, with new lunch boxes and butterflied tummies and dreams
of what will be.
49
gloriously off-key first grade recitals.
49
paper mache volcanos.
49
early morning snuggles.
49
toothless, jack-o-lantern smiles.
49
wide-eyed mortals realizing they are superheroes.
49 fearless
boys and girls bounding and skipping and jumping through the woods and on top
of beds and off of staircases.
49
scraped knees and stitched chins and broken arms and 2AM emergency
room visits.
49
first loves and pimpled cheeks and awkward moments and fender benders.
49
middle school meltdowns.
49
high school crises.
49
children finding their gifts and passions and calling, all pushing
them toward purpose.
49
young men and women, navigating the worries, joys, and wounds of finding their
own place in the world.
49
souls just beginning to find their voices.
49
people loving and being loved.
49
laughing, dancing, embracing bodies—silenced in a second.
49
hearts, ceasing to beat.
49
family members waiting in helpless, prayerful, panic.
49
cell phones ringing incessantly, never to be answered again.
49
children were murdered in a night club in Orlando this week.
49
children’s parents are grieving.
49
children’s siblings and friends and lovers and spouses and children are
planning funerals.
49
children’s stories were horribly interrupted.
Not
statistics, not people groups, not causes or culture war symbols, not
illustrations or examples or stereotypes or case studies.
Children.
Someone’s
children.
As
treasured as your own.
As
treasured as you are to another.
Flesh,
blood, and bone.
Souls
and dreams and crooked smiles.
Children
whose deaths should shake and infuriate and grieve us fully.
Children
whose loss is as senseless and tragic as any we an experience.
If
we can’t see this or we choose to overlook it or succeed in forgetting it, it
will be our fault when more children die.
49 LGBTQ children were murdered in a nightclub
in Orlando this week.
49
children were born.
49
children lived.
49
children were loved.
49
children deserve to be treasured.
49
children deserve to be remembered.
49
children deserve that we all do better.
"...senseless acts of tragedy remind us that nothing here is promised, not one day. This show is proof that history remembers. We live through times when hate and fear seem stronger. We rise and fall and light from dying embers, remembrances that hope and love last longer.
And love is love is love is love is love is love is love
to not be killed or swept aside...
...now fill the world with music love and pride."
-Lin-Manuel Miranda, writer of the musical "Hamilton"
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