Spring is in the air.
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I know, because stepping one foot out of the door, I smell roadkill fermenting not too far from my driveway. Spring is when the animals come alive in search of their mate. Spring is when the animals run right into your tires as you're driving along in the midst of their search for their mate. Love hurts.
Love hurts these animals so bad, it kills them. Not directly, of course. It's not broken heart syndrome. It might be suicide. But more than likely, it's the blind pursuit of their single goal that makes them vulnerable to accidents — fatal accidents that may or may not result in an insurance claim to fix the bumper of your car.
When hunters attempt to lure their prey near them, sometimes they use calls. Calls work best when they sound like mating calls. Love hurts.
I recently heard what a cat in heat sounds like. It's like a screaming banshee. It was actually quite disturbing. Love hurts.
I don't know what sounds worst, cats in heat, or catcalls. I go to college in a small town. More than once things were yelled at me from a moving vehicle as I was walking along the sidewalk. Both "compliments" and blatant insults. Neither are good to hear. That's not love, that's hate — that's misogyny.
Come to think of it, it's upsetting to have anything hurled at you from the window of moving vehicle. Even flowers would hurt if they came at you from 20, 30, 40 plus miles an hour. Having flowers thrown at you out of the window of a stationary vehicle would likely hurt less, but it'd still be super awkward.
It's especially upsetting to have bullets hurled at you.
When I started writing this article, I was aiming to put this in the humor category. Then I heard about the shooting in the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Florida. I was dumbfounded.
Fifty people dead. Another fifty wounded. Death toll expected to rise due to complications treating wounds.
A notification popped up on my Facebook page saying that someone I know had "marked herself safe during the shooting in Orlando." I gasped, staring at my computer screen.
I was in awe that Facebook was able to provide such a simple, yet very important, piece of information. My heart sunk for all the people who would not be able to mark themselves safe. And for all the people who would never see their loved one "marked safe."
I went to work Monday morning emotionally raw. I did not lose any friends or family in the shooting, but being a part of the MOGAI community, I felt this homophobic act like it was happening right outside my door.
I stopped at my routine coffee shop. I asked the server what her name was, as I know everyone that works there, but she was new to me. Then, I told her my name was Shelby.
I always introduce myself as Ken. Shelby is my given name. It's now my pen name. But the name I go by in day-to-day life is Kenneth. Ken. I am fully aware that I do not "pass" as a male — as someone that is supposed to have a name like "Ken."
I heard myself say, "I'm Shelby. It's nice to meet you." And my heart dropped further into my stomach.
I am all the way up the coast — in the midwest — in the middle of nowhere, Ohio — and yet, I was afraid. I wanted to slide under everyone's radar. I didn't want to ruffle feathers. I didn't want to mark myself as trans. I wanted to hide.
I wanted to hide because people like this "Christian" pastor exist.
I wanted to hide because these people were in a place that was designated for them - and they weren't even allowed to be there.
Let me say that again so it really sinks in:
When MOGAI people go out to have a good time with friends, or with hopes of meeting someone, they can't just go to any bar. Well, they can, but in this country, in this age, it's generally not safe or easy. So, people made "gay bars." This is a place made just so that marginalized people can exist without risk of life or limb. And in this nightclub, at Pulse in Orlando, Florida, these people were denied even their small piece of safety.
Attacks have happened before. Attacks have happened loads of times. Click here to hear Orange is the New Black star, Lea DeLaria, talk about "What's Not Love?" and her experience being attacked at a gay bar.
This shooting has affected more people than the event involving DeLaria. This shooting is getting more media attention. This shooting is just as tragic as the other hundreds and hundreds of lives lost to suicide and homicide because of homophobia. And every single life lost kills everyone just a little faster. This group of MOGAI people understands that.
Did you catch that? If not: Every single time one life is lost due to hatred — homophobia, racism, sexism, genderism, ageism, etc. — every single time we turn to violence to solve differences, every single time we cling to our small, exclusive groups and pit one against the other, every single one of us dies a little bit.
We all need each other to thrive. Why else would God put all of us on Earth at the same time? People need people. Queer people. Black people. Muslims, Jews, Christians. Women. Men. Non-binary people. All of us. Equal. All of us. Valuable. All of us. United as one.
June is national Pride month, to honor the Stonewall riots that took place in 1969. These people in Orlando, Florida, in the good ol' U.S. of A. were mass murdered in their safe place during their designated time to be open and proud. Are you feeling the weight of this with me or am I the only one?
Do not let these events make you jaded.
Do not start hating because of these events.
Do not let this shooting make you blame another marginalized group.
Do not let the media tell you why this happened. We all know why this happened. And you can do something about it.
Don't sit in ignorance letting it fester into hate. Don't get all of your information about something from one source. Don't close your mind to what you think is probably right, because the minute you do, you are in the wrong. Never stop learning. Never give up. And never, ever stop loving. Even though it hurts.
