A week after the historically fatal shooting in Orlando, I and many others inside the LGBTQIA community are still grappling with complex emotions. When I first heard the news I was shocked. Hearing that a group you identify so strongly with, a cultural group that encompasses most of your closest friends, has been victimized on such a massive scale is hard to wrap your mind around. My first thoughts upon hearing the news were honestly that an extremist Christian group, such as the Westboro baptist church was responsible for the planning of this crime, that the Muslim man who executed it was only an instrument to spread maximum fear and phobia. While this turned out to be something of a fever dream, there may be a grain of truth to it.

Then came overwhelming sadness tinged with fear. I drove to my girlfriend and spent the day by her side, enjoying every second of time with her all while feeling a sick sense of gratitude that it wasn’t me. Yes, I had a large portion of fear for myself and my loved ones. Growing up in a rural, religious community I have often been concerned for my well being as a queer woman. But, there was also fear for the survivors, the families, and the Muslim community. All will surely be facing interrogation and threats of their own. The islamophobic climate in this country has been slowly rising, and I continue to fear that an event like this one might be a tipping point for further violence and persecution. I cried for the victims of this tragedy, I cried for my friends, for myself. A lot.

Once I learned that the club attacked, Pulse, was hosting an event featuring latinx and drag performances, that the majority of victims were queer people of color, a fact that much of the mainstream media seems to be ignoring, I became enraged. Trans women of color face the highest rates of abuse and harassment of any segment of the population. They were clearly the intended target of this violence and ignoring, minimizing that fact, is a massive disrespect to the victims and survivors. Even at the hands of well-intentioned media professionals, this erasure is unacceptable. If we wish to dismantle the prejudicial thinking that causes tragedies like the one in Orlando we must confront homophobia, misogyny, and racism all at once.

Another deep flaw in the media coverage of the shooting is their lack of discretion. Gay clubs are considered a safe space within our community. They are a place for celebration, discovery, and explorations where one can be as flamboyant or anonymous as they are ready to be. To be killed in this setting is not only a clear violation of the right to live but also to the right of privacy inherent in these spaces. Imagine learning your son or daughter, best friend, or partner was gay, bi, or trans* by seeing their name on a list of victims on the news. In conservative estimates 515 people were directly affected, if you consider that each victim has two parents, one sibling or other close family members, one friend, and one coworker. This tragedy should belong to those 515+ people, not our entire nation. Our society's’ macabre fascination with death is on full display as we repeat the stories of the ride attendant at Universal Studios or the couple who get a joint funeral instead of a wedding.

All this hints at a truly disturbing trend; the media only seems to care about and respect us when we are dying. Of course, remembering and grieving are important, particularly for those directly affected. More important still, though, is respect. These men and the 46 others who were killed in this despicable act of hate never asked to be martyrs. As the families of victims of other senseless mass shootings will surely confirm, legislation to prevent deaths is a lot more meaningful than thoughts and prayers.

Perhaps my final stage of processing this unfathomable event is hopefulness. That may sound perverse or naive but look at our history. Nearly exactly 47 years ago, police invaded a safe space, a gay club called The Stonewall Inn, with the intention of prosecuting for once illegal acts. This prompted riots and essentially began the LGBT rights movement in America. We have been subjected to an inconceivable number of hate crimes of both personal and mass scale, the documentation of which seems to begin in the 1960’s after the formation of the gay rights movement. Yet, the queer community always bounces back with a beautiful resiliency. Among all large cultural groups, it seems that the LGBT community is one of the few without violent extremists. Despite everything done to us, we have and will remain a peaceful community that values love and inclusivity. No matter the attacks, we have formed a strong, independent, influential culture of our own. We will keep kissing, and above all, we will keep living. If you’re reading this and you’re afraid, maybe closeted, know that no force on earth can ever wipe us out. You may not feel safe as an individual, and that’s fair, but no that there will always be safe spaces, there will always be love and acceptance.