I've been quiet about the tragedy that hit Orlando. I'd like to say it is because I believe everyone understands that what happened was a heinous act, but, honestly, that is not true. In truth, it was not until this afternoon that it finally hit me.
My instant reaction to the news was numbness, which is rare for me. As an artist I tend to reject the very idea of being numb to pain, but this act of senseless violence was so personal that every cell in my body told me to just keep going. It was and is a shock to my system, and part of me feels ashamed for being silent for even a minute. This is a time when those who still have a voice should speak up.
I've been lucky. Growing up gay in Arkansas wasn't a tale of terror for me. I had loving parents, sisters, and friends. As a Jersey City resident, I enjoy a life where being gay is considered less interesting than being from Arkansas. I've become insulated in many ways to the fact that many LGBT people
must continue to fight just to find acceptance in their own world. In my world, families celebrate it when their children finally come out. While I never forget that this isn't always the case, my view has always been that we were and are making progress. I personally have been told by many people that merely by knowing me, I changed their mind about gay people. There are still people I know who don't quite get it, who, even after knowing me, are still on the fence. I continue to have hope that, by leading a life full of passion and love, they will come around. It is for those kinds minds that I feel compelled to break my silence.
The LGBT community has come so far in my lifetime, and, while this tragedy has impacted us all, I hope we will not see this as a setback. If anything, this is just another moment that makes us stand even more united against those that would hope to keep us down.
I hate to feel sorrow, but that is exactly what is in my heart. To me, this is better than numbness, because I know what to do with pain and sorrow. As an artist, I know great things can come from deep felt emotion. My focus now is simply the matter of finding a way to convert these intense feelings into something worthwhile. Whether it is a story, a song, a performance, a speech, or even an act of love, I am determined to not let this event shutter my own light. I refuse to contribute to making this tragedy stronger than it already is.
In moments like this, when so many lights were lost, it is on those of us who remain to become beacons of hope. So I implore you to shine with me, to burn brighter, to live and love in remembrance of those who were taken too early and for no good reason. Shine on.
My instant reaction to the news was numbness, which is rare for me. As an artist I tend to reject the very idea of being numb to pain, but this act of senseless violence was so personal that every cell in my body told me to just keep going. It was and is a shock to my system, and part of me feels ashamed for being silent for even a minute. This is a time when those who still have a voice should speak up.
I've been lucky. Growing up gay in Arkansas wasn't a tale of terror for me. I had loving parents, sisters, and friends. As a Jersey City resident, I enjoy a life where being gay is considered less interesting than being from Arkansas. I've become insulated in many ways to the fact that many LGBT people
must continue to fight just to find acceptance in their own world. In my world, families celebrate it when their children finally come out. While I never forget that this isn't always the case, my view has always been that we were and are making progress. I personally have been told by many people that merely by knowing me, I changed their mind about gay people. There are still people I know who don't quite get it, who, even after knowing me, are still on the fence. I continue to have hope that, by leading a life full of passion and love, they will come around. It is for those kinds minds that I feel compelled to break my silence.
The LGBT community has come so far in my lifetime, and, while this tragedy has impacted us all, I hope we will not see this as a setback. If anything, this is just another moment that makes us stand even more united against those that would hope to keep us down.
I hate to feel sorrow, but that is exactly what is in my heart. To me, this is better than numbness, because I know what to do with pain and sorrow. As an artist, I know great things can come from deep felt emotion. My focus now is simply the matter of finding a way to convert these intense feelings into something worthwhile. Whether it is a story, a song, a performance, a speech, or even an act of love, I am determined to not let this event shutter my own light. I refuse to contribute to making this tragedy stronger than it already is.
In moments like this, when so many lights were lost, it is on those of us who remain to become beacons of hope. So I implore you to shine with me, to burn brighter, to live and love in remembrance of those who were taken too early and for no good reason. Shine on.
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