From the ashes of destruction, so the legend goes, rises the Phoenix, renewed and reborn.
On June 12, 2016, a young man named Omar Mateen shot and killed 49 people and wounded 53 more in a mass shooting at Pulse, a gay nightclub in Orlando, Florida. The horrible, burning agony—physical and emotional—of that tragedy gave rise to a glorious spirit. We could see it appearing immediately.
Advocates. More and more of them.
Since the Stonewall riots of 1969, the spirit within LGBTQ people has been glowing brighter and stronger. This spirit has been spreading to people who are becoming advocates, more and more each year.
These advocates are not queer themselves, but are people who will pass and support laws protecting the rights of all citizens; people who will stand on a stage and speak or sing in praise of the queer spirit and the people possessing it; and people who write stories about the lives of queer individuals.
Immediately after the Pulse shooting, many people stood in line for hours, in the rain, to give blood that was badly needed after the massacre. We know these were advocates, because at that time, gay men were not allowed to donate. This restriction has changed, largely due to advocacy.*
All over the world, from New York to Los Angeles to London to Tel Aviv to Paris to Sydney to Brisbane to Wellington and back to Nashville and Boston, we saw massive crowds. We heard song and encouragement, we saw structures lit in the glory of rainbow colors.
World leaders from Belgium to Norway to Mexico and even Afghanistan expressed encouragement, support, and solidarity. The Council on American-Muslim Relations condemned the shooting and repudiated violence against the LGBTQ community.
Not very many years ago I would have said there would not be marriage equality in the U.S. during my lifetime. Before June of 2016 I would not have expected the kind of response we saw to the tragedy in Orlando, either in the U.S. or from around the globe. Nor would I have believed that Disney, that bastion of “family values,” would take a stand for the LGBTQ community—but they did.
A Wall of Love
And then there's the wall of love made up of all kinds of people who placed themselves physically between people from the hateful Westboro Baptist Church and the funerals and memorial ceremonies of the Orlando victims, so that those miserable “church” members couldn't get near mourners with their ugly messages.
There is still a lot of work to do in the area of rights and acceptance, as was evident when we saw public "leaders" respond to the Pulse shooting with prayers and nothing else, while lining their pockets with money from the National Rifle Association and preventing any research into gun usage and death. And we heard from way, way too many nutjobs saying "the gays deserved what they got."
The more progress we make, the bigger the pushback from homophobic bigots will get. But consider that by five days after the shooting, a GoFundMe project to collect money that would go directly to the victims’ families and survivors of the Orlando massacre broke all records on that website. By June 17 contributions had exceeded $5 million, and the total was still climbing.
From the ashes of the Orlando shooting, we saw the first signs of the glorious Phoenix. It will not be the first time that bird has risen from the ashes of LGBTQ persecution, but it will be the first time the rebirth encompassed millions of advocates who saw—finally—that we are all one people. It’s the first time the queer community was not so very alone in its struggle for acceptance. It was the first time that beautiful, multi-colored emblem—the rainbow—was displayed so widely, so proudly, and so openly.
So as we remember and grieve for the loss of life, and as we offer support for all survivors and families of tragedies aimed at queer people, through our tears let’s be sure we don’t miss the Phoenix rising.
* As of May 2023, potential donors are screened with a questionnaire that evaluates their individual risks for HIV based on sexual behavior, recent partners, and other factors. Sexual orientation is no longer one of those factors.
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I’m an inveterate observer of human nature, writing novels about all kinds of people, some of whom happen to be gay or transgender or bisexual or intersex—people whose destinies are not determined solely by their sexual orientation or gender identity. Check out my work on my website.