Club Q
When my dad asked if I will still go to gay bars I said I'm not sure. What I really meant was the place I feel safest is the place I am most likely to be gunned down. What I meant is how does one decide whether it's worth it to bow to the threat of an AR-I5. When he said, is it really worth it to go, I said I'm not sure. What I really meant was, is it worth it to only half live. What I meant is how does one choose between being shoved back into a closet and dancing out of one into a massacre.
When he said, is it something you think about. I said I'm not sure. What I really meant was how often do you wonder if you'll mistake gunshots for the beat of an Elton John song. What I meant is I have to wonder this every time I enter the places that have been designated mine. I have to wonder, is only half living to avoid dying any different than the childhoods we've run from? When the fear of losing what little we had was greater than any courage we could find to be ourselves? When parents who once described attending funerals for our imagined futures attend our real funerals, is that when we become enough?
What I'm saying is, you have front row at Coachella; we have a gun range with a DJ. You hold a gun to our gentle army, banded together without weapons. We dance in the dark with tender hearts as someone with a TV and a gun decides our blood is his flavor of the week. I find myself wondering this Thanksgiving how quickly laws would be enacted if queer people shot up "straight bars." How Fox would thirst to label these events hate crimes, how the headlines would drip with abhorrence. How Tucker Carlson would revel in his "rightness," infecting more young Anderson Lee Aldrichs before anyone could stop the spread. I have to wonder how much hate you must harbor to be the guy throwing bricks through the windows of Stonewall this week. Whether he even knows the irony of it; that five decades ago trans women of color threw bricks from the inside out to end this bullshit. At what body count is it decided the ones inside are worth saving?
We - who dance quietly in worship when the trigger is pulled - are worth saving. We asking for a chance to simply parent while the shooter's father worries that targeting Club Q suggests his son is gay - are worth saving. We - who stand by while political rhetoric places us at fault and a father finds solace in knowing his kid isn't gay but a murderer of gay people - are worth saving. We - the lovers, givers, thinkers, songwriters, performers, dreamers, bridge builders, taken from a world we are transforming are worth saving.