Tuesday, June 14, 2016
Grief is an odd thing. At one moment, tears are running down my cheeks, at another I am smiling as English queer folks vogue in the street at a vigil 'cause we're folks who celebrate LIFE and do so fabulously, at another, the tears flow and I laugh at the same time. But my heart is heavy, and I want the heaviness to end, but, then feel guilty that I am somehow disrespecting the dead.
As time passes, the tears tend to dry and the heaviness lightens, but we can never, never forget that 49 mostly Latinx queer and straight folks were gunned down and over 50 injured by a man who had deep conflict over his own sexuality. Each of us needs to grieve in his or her own way and each of us needs to respect the way others do.
And we can't let anyone tell us how to grieve or how long to do it. No, most of us didn't know anyone personally who was killed or injured at Pulse, but we feel it viscerally. Our peeps were gunned down for being and celebrating who they were.
Know that we are in this together; you are not alone in your grief. Reach out to each other, even if via a private message or email as people have done in my case. We are FABULOUS and we will overcome! <3
Sunday, June 12, 2016
Many thanks for a kind comment from my friend, Aaron, who said I should blog or preach. I've decided to restart this blog. It's a shame that it has to start on such a horrific day: the day my queer sibs were gunned down in Orlando, Florida at Pulse Night Club. I respect that some dislike "queer" but I feel it is a term of radical inclusion.
That a troubled person could walk into a dance club full of people just wanting to feel safe, free from the pressures of family, possibly faith, or even being out at their job, the one place of sanctuary for many of them, and just shoot them dead, is beyond belief. 50 people dead; over 50 injured. The inspectors had a terrible time because the cell phones of the dead kept ringing with frantic calls from friends and loved ones that would never be answered.
I want to hurt the now-dead attacker. I want to hurt those elected officials who have the nerve to offer prayers while failing to require checks on prospective gun buyers. I want to hurt those religious officials who slobber and stumble all over themselves to pray for the dead, while they won't even let the living be members of their church or, if they do, ordained within it. I want to hurt those who celebrate these deaths with "it's only a bunch of gays" or "less pedophiles" and the like. I want to hurt because my heart is absolutely broken. But I can't.
My very being cries out in rage, but also, once again, in love, for love, to BE love. Inflicting pain solves nothing, but only brings more of it. My spiritual path is about love and if I am for love I cannot be about violence. Eventually, I must rise above the baser nature of my being and radiate love.
The Beloved, as I choose to call God, is intimately in this, suffers this as we do. No sweeping in and making it all right, however. The Beloved nudges us to make for justice, to love any way, and to not be afraid. And eventually to forgive. Yup, you read that right.
We must forgive, not right away; but we must do so in order for us to move forward. We need to let the rage go against this shooter, Omar Mateen. We need to be vessels for peace as well. We must stand in solidarity with our Muslim sisters and brothers for they are already reaching out to us. We must be peace.