Inciting Incident Blog #28 – Reflections on Pulse

It’s been almost a year since 49 members of our community were needlessly and heartlessly murdered. That event was the impetus of my transition. I read a letter that I’d written “anonymously” on the Inciting Incident episode where we talked about it, and it was only a month later that I secretly went on hormones.
That event made me want to be loud. That event made me want to yell. That event made me want to be visible. No matter what kind of danger it puts me in, because this kinda shit needs to stop, and the douchebros and ignoramuses are not helping.

I know you think it’s totes hilarious to make the “only two genders” joke, like we’ve heard it for the first time, but you’re the ones who get offended when someone other than you exists, or walks down the street holding hands with another transwoman.

I know you think we made all this up and that makes us crazy, but I think that makes you an ableist bigot with an awful lot of lonely nights spent trolling a noncis space on Facebook because you literally have nothing else to do.
I’m tired of having to fight for our humanity. I’m tired of having to fight to be acknowledged as people. I’m tired of having courts decide that crimes against us aren’t hate crimes because Jesus said we shouldn’t be that way or something. Can’t we charge them with hate crimes by making being ourselves even more dangerous than it already is?

I’m tired of having to ask someone to go to the bathroom with me. I’m tired of wondering if the next person to give me the stink eye has a gun. I’m tired of wondering if someone who sees my husband and I together is going to say something in front of my kids. I’m tired of worrying about every single queer and visible friend I have and their safety, because supposed followers of the God who said “love everyone” and those who clamor for the sanctity of life and all lives mattering also love to tell us that that loving God took 49 members of our community away in senseless violence because love, or because we’re all perverts, or because we are the army of darkness, or because purple makes them get flashbacks over titty twisters… Whatever it is, I don’t fucking care, and I’m sick of having to justify our community’s humanity daily to the crowd that is so willing to openly disregard experts in order to continue being an ignorant asshole.
I’ve been attacked recently by both strangers and people I considered friends. I’ve been attacked because I have the nerve to stand up for myself when someone shouts a shitty opinion at me. I’ve been attacked for thinking I know myself better than some stranger who is sure that he knows what gender really is. I’ve been attacked for having a visible show that isn’t about what’s going on in their lives, but instead focuses on our own community cause, you know, we’ve taken over everything and that’s all it is anymore. Look at all our fucking representation, guys. We really should get the cis straight white guys a chance once in a while, right?

Today, I sat and stared at messages. Countless messages, handwritten, on posters, on sidewalks, on rocks… I saw 49 names inscribed, including my own last name as second on the list. I imagined the sounds of that night; the visions, the terror, the fear… And I thought about every single person I heard mocking that event, or using it to promote hatred, or to make a shitty joke because special snowflakes can’t take their sense of humor because we don’t find jokes about the murder of our already-vulnerable community to be fucking funny!
I speak out for them, not the ones who can’t handle everything not being about them. I speak out for the chosen queer family I have, and the ones I don’t know, who have to live day to day, wondering if they’re going to be safe or if their dad is going to acknowledge their existence or if they’re going to have a place to live because of who they are. I became an activist because I am sick and fucking tired of all lives mattering until they found out they might be queer. I’m sick and fucking tired of life being sacred unless Jesus cries when queers kiss. I’m sick and fucking tired of knowledge being power, unless it affirms what we already know about our sexuality and gender, and then some fucking idiot named Todd knows better cause he got a C in eighth grade biology, and that’s pretty much the same thing.

Most of all, we’re sick of having to stop and explain to people outside the community and its allies as to why we can’t just stop and let things be, or wait until it blows over, or wait until times change and we’re accepted. None of us are promised that, and if anyone can’t understand that, it’s hard to move someone so privileged that the status quo doesn’t affect them either way in the first place.

Today I sat by a place where 49 members of our community died, and I became more determined than ever to fight against anyone who would see us harmed or worse. Fuck you for doing that, fuck you to anyone who supports it, fuck you to anyone who tries to justify it, fuck you to anyone who makes jokes about it…
And fuck you to anyone who insists on neutrality whenever it’s convenient for them, but come out with their hands open when it’s safe for their token ally cookie. Our lives are at stake every single day, especially with this fucking xenophobe leading the country, and we don’t have time to stop and consider how you might feel about having your shitty word choice corrected, okay Brenda?
Stand with us. Listen to the stories of those you’ve never been able to understand. Help us prevent something like this ever happening again instead of taking it for granted that it won’t. We don’t have that luxury.

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