One of the assailants was just 15-years-old. One decade ago, as they left the San Diego Pride, six men were suddenly brutalized- beaten by baseball bats, stomped, and stabbed. Too ashamed to admit to having gay sons, families refused to claim the remains of their loved ones, funeral homes declined to bury the bodies, police shrugged and did not investigate. In 1973, an arsonist set fire to the UpStairs Lounge, a gay bar in New Orleans.
This was an act of much more common, old-fashioned American-born terrorism. Not even gay public space is safe space to be gay. Pulse on Latin night-the intersection of Latino and queer identities, on the fringe of the margins. This was an act of identity-based terror-hate violence directed at a marginal group to strike fear in all. Most of those murdered lived at the intersection of queer and Latino identities.ĭespite all the self-serving political rhetoric about terrorism, this was an act of much more common, old-fashioned American-born terrorism. June 11 was Latin Night at Pulse in Orlando. For trans women of color, 2015 was a brutally violent year, claiming a record number of lives. "And many LGBT folk live at the intersections of these vulnerable identities. According to FBI statistics and analysis by the Southern Poverty Law Center, LGBT identity is more likely to provoke hate crimes than Jewish, Muslim, Latino, or black identity: "The bottom line: LGBT people are far more likely than any other minority group in the United States to be victimized by violent hate crime. Indeed, lesbian, gay, transgender, gender-queer, and gender non-conforming individuals suffer the highest rates of hate crime victimization in this country. The Orlando massacre reminds us this safety is an illusion of our relative privilege. Straight girls love gay male public spaces because they feel like safe spaces. Here we dance, let loose, sing out loud, and enjoy ourselves without fear of predatory male sexual attention. We maintain intimate friendships with beautiful gay men, basking in their appreciation of our femininity, jointly appraising male sexiness, seeking expert opinions on relationships, and invading party spaces. This is a thing we do, we straight girls. Michael even dropped me off early enough to meet up with his more age-appropriate squad for the real parties. Without shame I allowed Michael to indulge me-his straight, 40-something, married, girlfriend-with a couple of drinks, some loud music, and shirtless-waiter ogling at a gay men's club in my neighborhood Friday night.
Behavior that would be deemed wildly inappropriate for a married mom of two is tolerated because Michael is gay. Brilliant, beautiful, hilariously irreverent, and a decade my junior, I indulge an adoring friendship with Michael complete with late night texts, smooching emojis, and shared worship of Beyoncé. I was alone in New York City and I needed an ear to bend, a shoulder to lean on, and a friend guaranteed to make me laugh even against my will, so I speed-dialed Michael Arceneaux. Guilt about the thoughtless revelry of privilege I had engaged in the night before.įriday had been a long day at the end of a long week. The massacre of 49 people in Orlando's Pulse nightclub evoked grief, shock, anger, and guilt.