For Indianapolis, Pride Week was a time of celebration, awareness, and most of all, love. But for Orlando, as you all have seen by now, this weekend was a glimpse into Hell. There is so much to say about this act of profound hate, and I have spent so much time weeping for the victims and their families, but I don't want to inundate an already suffering community with too many more words of heartbreak and sympathy. The truth is, I can't comprehend the pain of those who were there. I'm blessed to have not experienced this horror firsthand.
However, there are a few things all of us can do from afar. First, we can act practically, and donate to the Pulse Victims Fund. This is a safe, authenticated place to donate, and I would encourage you to spare a little cash to help make these wounded families financially whole. I donated a small part of my profits from my book stand at Pride. Please stand with me, if you can.
Second, we can stand up to fear and hate. America is not defined by the hateful actions of one deranged citizen (and yes, he was an American citizen, and he acted out of bigotry, not religion). As an ally, you can embrace your LGBT family and friends, you can be vocal for our cause, you can be unafraid of speaking out for what is right. As an LGBT person, you can prove that we are not a community to be broken and sent into hiding. We are here, and we are strong, and we refuse to live our lives in terror.
Have I told you about the night my fiancée, Kelsey, proposed to me? We had, over the past year and a half, become fairly comfortable being a couple in public. Sometimes, we were hesitant to give a quick kiss, or hold hands, or introduce each other as anything more than a friend (you know, just gals bein' pals, nothing to see here). But for the most part, we felt safe. So that night, we rode together in an admittedly cheesy Cinderella-esque carriage around downtown Indianapolis. I had just accepted Kelsey's ring and we were approaching the end of our ride when a man noticed us from across the street and began to lurch toward the carriage.
"THAT AIN'T RIGHT," he announced, because apparently his announcement might change our minds about being in love.
Then the carriage stopped, and we had to get off, because the brusque driver was clearly uninterested in taking us any further than Kelsey had booked. But we were scared. At least, I was. This insane man was just down the block, and our ride wasn't exactly subtle. He was between us and our car, and what if he had a gun? I was both frightened and outraged. How dare he stain our night? How dare he remind me that Kelsey and I still aren't safe in our own city? Just being ourselves?
I feel that rage in me again today, the kind that boils in the throat, burns the eyes as they tear up. And all the more I can say on the topic is that we should all take steps to transform the anger into positive action, and the hate into love.
We also need to take care to protect LGBT People of Color right now (and always). Queer Latinx were the target, and they need a great deal of love from us today. Please remember as well that Muslims, queer or otherwise, are not the enemy here. Keep them safe today and always! Please keep them safe and offer them your love and support!
Now, I do want to talk about the incredible atmosphere of joy and love that defined Indy Pride (or at least my experience of it). Because there are good things happening in the gay community, and even great evil cannot crush the great good that is building.
So, buckle up for a bumpy shift in mood.
Oh golly, look at those cuties.
This was Baby's First Vendor Booth! And despite months of planning and preparation, Saturday still felt like a whirlwind! Who knew so many gays liked books? Hint: ME. I knew. Of course gays like books. For many of us, they were our safest refuge growing up. But that's a little too heavy to go into today.
In true Abi G. Douglas (shamelessly name-plugs myself in my own blog entry) fashion, here's a bullet list of what I learned at Pride:
- Regardless of your prizes, spinny wheels are catnip to drunk people and children. Even if your fiancée made the peg-ticker thing at the top out of the bottom of an Arby's Bronco Berry sauce package, when a drunk person sees that wheel, they hear the booming voice of destiny calling them, and boy do they ever answer that call.
- There are a lot of impressive Indiana artists out there! I have tons of new people to watch for and connect with. Also, did you know there's an LGBT library? I'm ashamed that I wasn't aware...
- Cops attract a weird crowd. My booth was next to a police booth that was giving out coloring books and other cool trinkets, and they brought in an odd set of folks. One woman was deeply curious about how police might show up at a club (were they called? How long does it take for them to arrive? etc). There were a number of people who just wanted to taunt them. Those officers practically disapparated the second we were allowed to tear down our booths (7 pm, if you're curious).
- Banners are hard. Not, like, literally hard, but surprisingly more difficult to display than the internet told me. Hanging that thing on the table required more awkward humping motions than I had predicted.
- People like stuff they can wear on their heads. Even too-small plastic headbands with alien heads attached on top. People gobbled those up. I'm confused, but somehow warmed that those prizes were so successful.
- Speaking of prizes, it pays (nah, actually, it costs a crap ton) to make your own fans. People were trading in their piddly single-ply paddle fans for by child-sized (as in, the size of actual children) card-stock tornado-makers. If this whole writing thing doesn't work out for me, I can always go into the custom fan business.
- It's possible I haven't written about my publishing process here as I thought I had... But now I know that I need to talk about it, because I have been storing up a lot of info!
- Friends/family can be a huge help, but you run the risk of obliterating your relationships with them. The chaos, the heat, the traffic, the expense... they all contribute to you nearly smashing your significant other in the face with a handmade prize wheel.
- But in the end, it's absolutely worth it. You meet fascinating people, and see love in action, and even sell some books.
- That said, I might take a break from this next year so I can actually enjoy the wildness that is Indy Pride.
...
Okay, I'll admit, I tried to shift the mood, but my heart isn't in it. Indy Pride reminds me that we've come so far, but there is still such a long way to go. I wanted to talk about some funny, silly stuff, but I'm afraid my list fell flat. My heart hurts, and the funny stuff may have to wait until next time. For now, I'm drawing out my feelings.
Warmest thoughts of love and hope to you all. Stay safe. Stay brave.
