Walking into Los Angeles Pride this past Sunday evening spurred a wave of emotions. Amongst crowds of the most diverse, lively, and charismatic people in the city, I felt excitement, joy, and pride - the emotions one would expect at such a celebration. However, twisted in my gut I also felt loneliness, sadness, and, above all else, fear. As I glanced across the hundreds of people in front of me at the festival, I knew we were all experiencing a familiar kind of fear together. The fear all LGBT members are aware of: the fear of coming out. As we danced, drank, and hugged that night, we came out as supporters on a day filled with tragedy and hatred.
Hollywood sometimes makes light of the coming out process. In sitcoms, it can be a punch line of someone coming out of an actual closet and announcing, "Hey everybody, guess who's gay and LOVING IT?!" However, something that straight people will never understand is the painful fear of having a secret. A secret that people have been killed for before. Something that some families consider such an abomination that they outcast children to the street upon its reveal. Telling someone you're gay isn't just scary, it is actually dangerous. The tragedy that occurred in Orlando was a reminder for the LGBT community of the very real dangers of being out and proud of it.
Over the years 'being out' has gotten much more exposure on TV, Film, and other popular culture. In many ways it has become a trendy accessory for straight people. However, as a whole, we can all agree that many negative stigmas and prejudices associated with being LGBT have been eliminated. I can recall being much younger and feeling terrified to hold hands with my partner inside a dark movie theatre out of fear that someone may see us and beat one - or both - of us to death. There was a point in my life that I was afraid to even have dinner at a restaurant with a boyfriend out of fear that the server wouldn't serve us. Although none of these fears came into fruition, they stemmed off of the fact that hate crimes have, and continue to occur, within the LGBT community on a daily basis.
This is why on Sunday evening, as I help my boyfriend's hand on our walk home from the pride festival, I had a sudden rush of an old, familiar fear sweep over me. Will I be beaten? Will I be called a faggot? Will I be shot dead? The once safe and lively streets of West Hollywood, not only an affluent neighborhood but infamously Los Angeles' LGBT center, felt like that dark movie theatre.
One of the beautiful and most remarkable things about the LGBT community is how each and every member has their own story and own experience. I consider myself very fortunate for never having experienced many of the negative responses to being out, but many of my brothers, sisters, and gender defying heroes weren't so lucky. In the case of the Orlando shooting, we all had to come out of the closet, again, and revisit any negative experience: bullying, beating, name calling, abandonment, resentment - you name it - from our past. It is a piercing fear that no one can understand but yourself.
This is why I call upon the LGBT community and its allies to be strong, be patient, and to please be a friend. Check up on your LGBT friends or acquaintances to make sure they are okay. Be the shoulder for them to cry on if they need it. Be the wall that they can vent to if they are angry. Let them know they are not alone and that you are there for them through every step of this battle.
We can talk about gun laws all we want and try to politicize this tragedy. Although we do need social change now, we have to be reminded of the very human side of the Pulse Shooting. LGBT America had to come out as being 'who they are and proud' once more. Our individual past experiences came forth and confronted us face to face. All of our demons have come back, and although we are afraid, we are also empowered. As any out person can attest, once the door is open, we join the most powerful, intelligent, and stunning community in America. No one can take that away from us.
