The Orlando massacre was one born of hatred and homophobia, propped up by the despicable doctrine of violence and terror promoted by ISIS, and then finally facilitated by the deplorable and reckless accessibility to automatic firearms in the United States.
It took place in a nightclub full of music and booze. Swaying hips, pulsing beats, sticky, sweaty, not-a-fuck-to-give partying. A club like most of us have been to, looking to dance, to drink and most certainly to hook up.
It’s took place in a nightclub much like the ones our children will seek out in fewer years than we care to admit. Where they will let loose and dance and rub their bodies up against one another. The kind of place where they will be free to overindulge, the only price to pay a hangover and sore feet.
There’s not much to say that isn’t obvious here. It was the horrific act of a single man. It was also a manifestation of evil and negligence. We all know this.
I only write this here now because I am compelled to write something. Because I am sickened; the callous violence and senseless loss of life made even harder to bear by the free and fun-loving scene where it took place.
Fifty gay men and their families and friends have had their lives shattered. A community is grieving.
I only hope that generations to come will once again be able to party into the night, not a care in the world, safe among friends.