Pride in a Post- Pulse Shooting World
Early Morning. June 12th. 2016.
There was a world before that shooting that claimed the lives of 49 people and injured 53 others and now there is this one.
49 people went out to the Pulse night club in downtown Orlando for Latin night in a nation that had the year earlier legalized Gay Marriage and heralded a new age of queer liberation; 49 people went out to live their lives in the place they felt most welcome; 49 people went to meet their friends and lovers--their second family--in a space where they knew they could truly be their liberated, authentic selves. These are people who never wanted to be immortalized by bullets or martyred for the LGBT community.
This tragedy was made all the more sour by the fact that this happened during pride month. A month of mourning made all the more bitter in our celebration. A month of celebration made all the more uncomfortable by our mourning. We (read : LGBTQ+ people of all races and backgrounds) all need pride because we need visibility to combat the threat to our existence. Because we need each other to ease the hardship. Because we live in a world in which tragedies like this happen.
My Pride Sunday was the time of my life! I felt as if I was glowing. I felt like the love around me was solid. I felt so free I didn't even feel I was human. It wasn't just because of the music, or the conversations with funny people or the liquor (although all helped); but it was also because I was simply surrounded by countless people from my culture--a culture famous for its reported hostility to queer liberation and queer people.
In that Pride I was living an impossible reality: an authentically West Indian society that affirms and celebrates it's lesbian, gay, non-gender-conforming and otherwise queer community members. We made our own space(s) where our culture was centered and our queerness un-disregardably visible and a space in which we were actually happy while being visible.
That being mentioned for context, it doesn't escape me that Latin night at Pulse probably didn't feel much different for some of the people that attended and were gunned down at the bar, or on the dance floor or in the bathroom.
Let us not forget for a moment that, while safe spaces that are made for queer folk are valuable to all LGBTQ community members, Latin night is so much more valuable for folks that come from cultures and traditions that happen to be notoriously, particularly repressive. Many Latino people, much like Caribbeans, face hostility in their homes and families due to aspects particular to their culture (another blog article); and, in the US, when they do find queer affirming spaces they find a dearth of representation of their culture (at best).
So maybe Latin Nights at Pulse aren't exactly Chutney Pride--I mean the largest gay Caribbean Carnival in the world is on another level. But the intersection of native culture and queer liberation is a common experience. I'm sure some of the people who went out that night in Orlando in search of that.
In the glow of my time at Chutney Pride, the shadow of these intersectional concerns became sharper and haunted me all the more. Of all places, the place that you feel the most free and loved should never be your slaughterhouse.
I'd be remiss I also I didn't acknowledge the issue of the shooter's motives for this heinous attack. He was, too, part of our family. He, too, sought community in that club in the years before the attack. He, too, felt the sting of anti-gay hostility that sprouted from his family's culture. With his mental health a question mark in this scenario, I can't say one way or the next, but would anything have been different if Omar Mateen had access to a queer-affirming space or event or network that saw his Afghan heritage, his identity as a member of the
Muslim American community even while validating his path as a (possibly) gay man? What if he formed bonds at Pulse that strengthened his capacity for self-determination instead of leaving him feeling further isolated? What if he had met an abundance of other non-heterosexual Muslim men who've had to wrestle with the demons that drove him to violence? These too are questions we need to look at as the fog of mourning begins to clear.
I find myself deeply affected by many of these tragedies around the world. But this one took on a wickedly personal character for me. This blog article is much longer that the norm I will try to keep to, but every word above I believe is necessary.
IN MEMORY OF:
Stanley Almodovar III, 23 years old
Amanda Alvear, 25 years old
Oscar A Aracena-Montero, 26 years old
Rodolfo Ayala-Ayala, 33 years old
Antonio Davon Brown, 29 years old
Darryl Roman Burt II, 29 years old
Angel L. Candelario-Padro, 28 years old
Juan Chevez-Martinez, 25 years old
Luis Daniel Conde, 39 years old
Cory James Connell, 21 years old
Tevin Eugene Crosby, 25 years old
Deonka Deidra Drayton, 32 years old
Simon Adrian Carrillo Fernandez, 31 years old
Leroy Valentin Fernandez, 25 years old
Mercedez Marisol Flores, 26 years old
Peter O. Gonzalez-Cruz, 22 years old
Juan Ramon Guerrero, 22 years old
Paul Terrell Henry, 41 years old
Frank Hernandez, 27 years old
Miguel Angel Honorato, 30 years old
Javier Jorge-Reyes, 40 years old
Jason Benjamin Josaphat, 19 years old
Eddie Jamoldroy Justice, 30 years old
Anthony Luis Laureanodisla, 25 years old
Christopher Andrew Leinonen, 32 years old
Alejandro Barrios Martinez, 21 years old
Brenda Lee Marquez McCool, 49 years old
Gilberto Ramon Silva Menendez, 25 years old
Kimberly Morris, 37 years old
Akyra Monet Murray, 18 years old
Luis Omar Ocasio-Capo, 20 years old
Geraldo A. Ortiz-Jimenez, 25 years old
Eric Ivan Ortiz-Rivera, 36 years old
Joel Rayon Paniagua, 32 years old
Jean Carlos Mendez Perez, 35 years old
Enrique L. Rios, Jr., 25 years old
Jean C. Nives Rodriguez, 27 years old
Xavier Emmanuel Serrano Rosado, 35 years old
Christopher Joseph Sanfeliz, 24 years old
Yilmary Rodriguez Solivan, 24 years old
Edward Sotomayor Jr., 34 years old
Shane Evan Tomlinson, 33 years old
Martin Benitez Torres, 33 years old
Jonathan Antonio Camuy Vega, 24 years old
Juan P. Rivera Velazquez, 37 years old
Luis S. Vielma, 22 years old
Franky Jimmy Dejesus Velazquez, 50 years old
Luis Daniel Wilson-Leon, 37 years old
Jerald Arthur Wright, 31 years old
