Dear Pulse, there are no words…

but i’m going to try

what can we say in the wake of a massacre?

how much pain must one person be in to commit such a crime? to inflict such pain? it’s unfathomable. yet it happens all the time. happens more and more

our country is ill. when are we going to talk about it?

our country is ill and the symptoms are manifesting in our children. anxious and depressed kindergarteners. teenagers making suicide plans

our country is ill and the symptoms are manifesting in people with guns shooting up movie theaters. schools. dance clubs

the legalization of gay marriage did not eradicate hate. i don’t have to read the comments to feel it. to breathe it

today, a parent asked for their child to be moved to another clinician because of my “indeterminate gender.” they hadn’t even met me. but they hate me because i am not she/her or he/him. because i refuse to assimilate


my heart feels like a sponge, turned black from soaking up hate and discrimination

my lungs are full of the fear that is pumped into the air by our media, by our politicians

no wonder the kids are sick. our worst toxins are not bisphenol A, asbestos

our worst toxins are fear, hate, and ignorance

which goes in all directions…


if we are going to stop the hate, we all have to stop the hate

asking to stop the hate for one group while hating another group doesn’t make any amount of sense

right-wing evangelical christians have a right to their opinions. if i hate them, i am no better than people who hate me

if we are going to stop the hate, we all have to stop the hate

why can’t we just agree that different people think different things?

and then dance

this all feels very connected to consent and the fact that people have a difficult time adhering to boundaries set by other people because we all want what we want and don’t want to have to let others have what they want

jesus. we’re all still in preschool

dear pulse, your dance floor, once full of memories of joyous feet, now slippery with the blood of the slain. what must your walls still hear? terrified screams and gunshots. a space dedicated to providing a semblance of safety for the marginalized; a space where people forget to be vigilant, now raped by hatred with access to firearms. to be gunned down while connecting to community through the sacred practice of dance is indeed terror. a concept deliberately planted in our psyches to keep our attention on the “other.” this was not an “other.” this was you. me. there is no “other”

there is no “other.” the sooner we learn that, the sooner we can start a revolution. a peaceful one. a revolution to stop the hate

if we are going to stop the hate, we all have to stop the hate

dear pulse, i never met you but i feel inextricably entwined in your soul. the loss of my fellow queers = loss of my own heart. a friend just texted, “we are unstoppable, though. our queer family is so vibrant, so resilient”

yes we are. what other marginalized group poops rainbows?

and cries rainbows? for even though i know we are unstoppable, i still need to mourn the loss of 49 souls who were murdered in rage. i still need to mourn the world that created a person so full of self-loathing he had to open fire on his brothers. sisters. non-binary siblings.

i need to mourn. and then i will pick up, stand up, recalibrate, dust off, step forward, link arms, choose life, choose peace, and stop the hate.

Orlando Response Art

After the Dance






One thought on “Dear Pulse, there are no words…

  1. Hey sweetie, I just wanted to say, once again your words are beautiful, eloquent and thought provoking. I wish there was a way for your voice to be heard by the world. Love ya!


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