Are We Orlando?

After the attack on the Pulse Nightclub in Orlando, many formerly closeted people were outed to their families. This story follows the thoughts of one of these people.

“Why were you at The Pulse?”

My parents were not complete monsters. They at least had the courtesy of making sure I was alright and allowing me time to cool down before asking this question. I knew, from the moment I woke up in my hospital bed with my parents standing nearby, that the question was inevitable.

They had been called in at the early hours of the morning, at some point around the time I was being carted in with a bullet in my right hip, put to sleep with anesthetics, and undergoing surgery. The doctors had told them I was in serious condition, but the surgery went very well, and the bullet didn’t hit anything important. Nonetheless, my parents were right there by my side when I got up.

Now, why was I at The Pulse? Of course, I know the answer to the question. I’m gay, and I was looking to have a good time with some of my friends. My parents don’t know the first part of that though. I don’t know how they’d react, but I’m afraid to find out. Would continuing to hide my identity, and distancing myself from my gay brothers due to my own fears of losing my parents respect, be disrespectful to everyone at that club that was attacked that day?

I wonder how many of my brothers were hurt. I hope no one died. My memory of what happened is very fuzzy, but I recall it all started with screaming. Then, gunfire. Then more screaming. I was far enough away to not be able to see what was going on, but close enough to hear everything loud and clear.

“RUN.” I heard. I did.

The average bullet can travel 2500 feet per second. The average human can RUN about 15 feet per second. Someone didn’t make it. I was put into serious condition and I was far from where the gun or guns first shot.

I wonder if the shooter is still out there. Even if he isn't, the culture that built him still is. I wonder if the media will try to pass this off as something, anything, other than a homophobic hate crime. It makes sense, no one wants to admit they share a quality with a mass shooter. But all those people who will refuse to admit it's a hate crime, and all those people who will continue to be homophobic and raise homophobic children even after this, they are the mass shooter. They are the culture that raised him. They are the people who pointed at us and said “they are the enemy,” and the gunman listened.

The fight has probably already begun. The people who recognize the attack for what it was will try to stop the media’s misrepresentation. If the shooter is of any minority, it will make a really simple cover story for the actual homophobia. But some people will know otherwise.

“I am Orlando! We are Orlando!” they will scream. I don't understand. Why be Orlando? Orlando was one of the last cities to remove gay relations as a crime. Orlando is a city full of homophobes. Orlando is the city that raised the shooter to believe he should go into a gay club and open fire. Orlando is not us victims of the attack, Orlando is the gunman. Orlando does not stand with us. Orlando does not stand with us.

My parents are Orlando. They tried to raise me to hate the people I am a part of now. They would disown me if they knew why I was there last night. It would feel so wrong of me not to tell them now, it would be such disrespect for all those who didn't make it out. But I just can't, even after what happened, build up the courage...

“I was just there for a little bit to make fun of all those f**s. Serves ‘em right for going against God like that.”

“‘Atta boy, son!” my dad smiled.

F**k. Maybe I am Orlando.