Sunday morning I woke up and dragged myself into the kitchen to take my vitamins. I then absently turned on my television, flopped on the couch, and opened Facebook on my tablet.
One of my high school friends who is a member of the LGBT+ community in Florida was commenting about a shooting that had taken place in Orlando. He had lived in O-town until very recently.
My T.V. was on some shitty local broadcasting of a animal educational show. I switched it to a news station. Maybe they would have a report on it.
Then my heart sank.
I instantly became glued to my seat watching George Stephanopoulos in horror. I could not fathom 20 people being shot and dozens wounded at a night club. A gay nightclub. On Latin night. I've been to gay clubs on Latin night. It is usually a very laid-back night for all. Some of the best nights of my life.
I didn't know the reason. Was it a fight that went WAY too far? Was it a terrorist attack? Was it a hate crime?
My boyfriend came out of the bathroom in time to see me silently weeping on my couch. I'm frantically looking through my Facebook friends list to make sure all my friends from home were safe. I can barely tell him what was happening. He eventually just sits next to me on the couch, rubbing my back in some sort of effort to comfort me, and joins in my astonishment watching the T.V. screen.
After 20 minutes I was finally able to verify that all my LGBT friends were safe. (Some of their friends weren't so lucky) But then the number on the screen shot up. George announced that the death toll was now 50 and 53 injured.
I wanted to scream. I might have. There may have just been an audible gasp. Whatever it was, I was devastated....
In 1993 my mother moved my sisters and me to Brandon Florida. A township just outside of Tampa. Meant to be a suburb of Tampa, Brandon eventually grew enough to be it's own little town. Mom had just gotten her first job with her brand new bachelor's degree. She was thrilled, nervous, and scared as hell about moving to a state where she literally had no family and knew no one.
I was pissed.
I HATED having to move to Florida. I was 8 when we moved there. It was literally 1 month before my birthday when we moved. I had no friends. It was summer vacation and we had to spend all of it moving. I couldn't even have a party. Everything was terrible. My life was ruined.
The sun was so hot. I would eventually get sunburnt so bad I couldn't move for days. (I may develop some form of skin cancer, I'm sure of it) The thunderstorms were stuff of nightmares and they were never ending. Hurricanes are coming and they are named. You don't remember 'the hurricane of 1992'. You remember Andrew. And he was a mean bastard. Humidity makes you question the existence of a loving god. Mosquitoes, lizards, snakes, alligators....everything wanted to eat you.
Mother. Fucking. Cockroaches.
Those sons-of-bitches would appear like some sort of evil Disney magic. Fairy God-Palmetto Bug. And just when you got brave enough to throw a shoe at it, the bitch would fly. Bibbity-Bobbity Fuck That!
I found one in my shoe once. After I took it off at P.E. I had walked on it all day. My teacher had me walk it outside and dump it out ...then come back in to play with the parachute. Gave me the lesson of always checking your shoes before putting them on.
Anyway, I hated the state when I moved there. As I grew up, met some friends, got involved with the community, learned how to avoid the local wildlife, I started to fall in love with the place. And it's quirks.
Brandon is 30 minutes from the coast line on the gulf side. Clearwater beach is my favorite one. It's where I go to get a tan when I go home. (I swear Denver is making me paler than an Irish newborn covered in milk)
Brandon is an hour and a half away from Orlando. Which means it's an hour and a half away from Disney Magic. Seriously, we went there so much I got a little bored of it. Field trips were to Disney. Grad Night was at Disney. Epcot taught me about the world. Family passes were always just a part of life. Disney parks, Universal Studios, Bush Gardens, Adventure Island. My childhood was ingrained with theme parks and water slides. Awesome.
Publix. The glorious heaven that is Publix. Its graced southern people for decades. You don't need any other grocery store. They have everything you need. Publix subs are the best sandwiches I have ever eaten. I once had a friend who was visiting Florida stop at a Publix and get me a sandwich before he flew back home. It was amazing.
Flip-flops. Everywhere. 'Nuff said.
Florida's wildlife may be trying to kill you but the people aren't (mostly). I truly miss the laid back attitude of Florida people. They aren't in a hurry. (It's too hot) They aren't stressed. (There is a beach and a daiquiri nearby...) They aren't uptight. (Most everyone is in clothing made of linen and flip-flops. Life's good)
Most of them are just country people trying to get by. Do we get our share of crazy? Of course....plus some. 'Florida Man' is the best totally real/fictional character out there. And I love him. Whenever a friend of coworker here in Denver tells me a story they heard on the radio about 'Florida Man' I can usually counter with another one that I remember happening growing up.
And we make awesome food. Cuban food is my comfort food.
Seriously though. The Latin influence on my life is astounding. I know old country songs by heart, I can't speak a word of real Spanish, I'm as basic white girl as you can get........ but you set a plate of ropa vieja down in front of me with a side of fried plantains and, oh man! Watch me shame myself.
Spanglish is easier to pick up than real Spanish, too. Especially when it's being yelled at you from your high school boyfriend's abuela. And, club music with some reggaeton laid over it will always sound much better than some DJ throwing 'top 40' at you.
I didn't know how much the state meant to me until I left. My mother's side was never Floridian. They are good Kentucky people. But, my father's side of the family has been there since they came over from Scotland in the 1700's. My grandfather and I went to the same high school. It's pretty neat. Most of my father's family is still there. They always will be. It's a part of me.
Which leads me back to Sunday morning. Being almost 2,000 miles away from your home in a time of tragedy makes you anxious and start questioning why you left in the first place. The farther away I am the less useful I can be. All I could do is sit there and watch.
I watched a women plead for information about her son. I watched interviews with people who had escaped. I watched one news anchor after another try their damnedest to get through yet another report of a mass shooting in this country. I watched our president, once again, have to address the nation about another terror/mass shooting/high powered rifle attack on our people.
I watched feeling helpless.
But, I'm not helpless. I vote. I have a voice about this. I have the ability to study stats, study laws, study polls. I'm capable of standing up to the violence. I'm capable of saying that we no longer need assault weapons. We no longer need to coddle the 2nd amendment. It needs to be revised. Just like President Obama said, 'to actively do nothing is a decision.'
We also need to stop '#prayforOrlando'. We need to stop praying. Period. In the immediate wake of this massacre all I saw from religious people were 'our thoughts and prayer'...yada, yada, yada. GOD ISN'T FIXING THIS! And, the longer you spend on your knees talking to yourself, the more shit like this is going to keep happening.
Then, the hypocrite preachers started to rear their ugly heads. They came out to say that they are not sad that this happened. They are saying that they are sad more 'pedophiles and sodomites' didn't die. Some of my more religious friends didn't say anything. They did, however, immediately start blaming all Muslims. Something like, "Muslims are responsible for every terror attack on this soil and in other places around the world. Wake up America!" Funny how all Muslims to them are terrible based on a few yet, when a Christian goes 'rogue', they claim that they were never really Christian to begin with.
That's called a No True Scotsman argument, children. And it's a logical fallacy.
An attack was committed in Florida. Was it a terror attack or was it a hate crime?
Yes.
It was an attack on the LGBT+ community.
It was an attack on the Latin community.
It was an attack on my friends.
It was an attack on my home.
A gay nightclub is a place for the LGBT+ community to go for peace, fun, acceptance, and social needs. It's a place for them to forget their troubles and be free. It's supposed to be a safe haven. A place where they can be themselves because lord knows they can't be safe in the public streets.
Hearing and seeing so many people talking about how they are praying for the victims, survivors, and families pisses me off. Religious people is the only group of people who pushes for anti-LGBT laws. They are the only ones who teach their community that gay people are wrong or abominations. They actively try to block the LGBT lifestyle from everyday life and NOW they want to offer prayers?
Um, no. You don't get to pull out your religious nonsense in support of them when you have done nothing but oppress them. Religion and hate killed them. The last thing they need or want is more religion. Fuck off.
I'm equally disgusted at how quickly the NRA and pro-gun supporters were on the war path to defend their precious guns. Are you really more worried about your gun collection than human lives? Fuck off.
I no longer reside in Florida but it will always be my home. I will always defend it from people calling it 'America's Penis'. I will always root for the (Devil) Rays, Bucs (no matter how they suck), and FSU (fuck Gators). I will always prefer to go barefoot or in flip-flops than heels. I will always long for Publix, Bells, and some good Cuban bread to be close by. I will always watch storm after storm after storm hit Florida and wish I was at the hurricane party that I KNOW is happening.
And, I will always support Florida, it's wackadoos, and it's culture. I was proud of how they came together when this tragedy hit. The lines outside blood banks, the people rushing water, food and umbrellas to the donors, the vigils. The community, even with it's flaws, is one of strength and courage. I'm proud to be a part of it.
My only hope is that this country stops, comes together, and with one voice says 'enough' to mass killings. Until that happens......I guess I'll just keep having to write long blog posts like this.
