For the LGBT community, fear, concern — and pride
John Paul Brammer, 25, of New York City woke up Sunday to his roommate crying hysterically.
The deadliest shooting spree in U.S. history had just taken place at a gay club in Orlando. Even more wrenching: It happened during LGBT Pride month, which arose from violence against LGBT people.
For Brammer, a gay man, the reality was a variation on the vision that reels through his head daily. “Today feels like being inside the darkest place in the dark cloud that is always hovering around queer people,” Brammer said Sunday. “I am afraid. I am always afraid. When I get dressed, when I leave my house, when I say something, I think, ‘Will I be attacked for this?’ ”
Police said a heavily armed assailant opened fire at Pulse nightclub, a club that was hosting a Latin Night celebration. The gunman, identified as Omar Mateen, 29, killed 50 people before being shot and killed by police.
While officials said Mateen pledged allegiance to the Islamic State, the motivation of the shooter continued to be under investigation by the FBI.
No matter the motive, members of the gay community stood in solidarity with the victims of Sunday’s carnage in Orlando. A number of cities across the U.S. held solemn vigils at Sunday Pride events, including San Francisco, Phoenix, Charlotte, Portland, Nashville and Atlanta.
“Throughout history, the LGBT community has been under assault — both physical violence and political attacks by those who want to marginalize us,” San Francisco Supervisor Scott Wiener, who is gay, said in a statement. “We mourn those who perished in this terrible tragedy, and we recommit ourselves to fight for peace, acceptance and equality.”
The tragedy was not far from people’s minds at the DC Pride festival in the nation’s capital. While firetrucks sprayed water onto people and multiple stages played music, tables and stands at the festival were accepting donations on behalf of Orlando’s LGBT center.
Pepper Mashay, 63, from Los Angeles, a singer and dancer who performed at the opening night in D.C., said she hopes the response to the shooting will not only spread awareness about violence against LGBT people but also address the issue of gun violence in general. “When I was at the park yesterday, you had religious fanatics lambasting our community. You’re putting hate and anger into people,” Mashay said.
Nick Wieland, 25, who was also attending the Washington festival, said he hoped “this increases the conversation around violence against the community.”
Isis Rose, 30, saw it more starkly: “It illustrates undeniably ... what we’re up against. People dismiss this issue or say it’s about the little things. But this is survival.”
Chandler Bryla, 24, of Orlando, says the tragedy is going to shape how the whole country reacts to Pride. “Everyone is going to be on edge now. ... But I think it is going to empower our community.”
For Brammer, the violence is proof that the world he so desperately wants to believe is becoming more accepting of LGBT rights is still a very dangerous place. Maybe he is right to worry about the clothing he puts on his body or the bars he chooses to frequent. Maybe. But his pride feels more important than his safety.
“If we let this man turn our pride into grief, we’ve lost something. He’s taken something from us,” he said.
“If we let this man turn our pride into grief, we’ve lost something. He’s taken something from us.” John Paul Brammer