I feel as though I should say something about Orlando. It seems like the right thing to do as a writer, a lesbian, a person. It is tempting to show you how angry I am, but I won’t. There isn’t a point to showing aggression in the face of hatred, at least not for me.
What I do want to say is that this tragedy is not mine. I don’t own the right to it just because I am an LGBTQ person. Please don’t misunderstand me: I care. The sadness of what has happened affects me. However, it is important to me to be respectful. I cannot lay my life and experiences over these events and use it as a template to understand their lives. We are all intersections of race, religion, socio-economics and so much more. The people who fall into the labels of LGBTQ are individuals, not one flamboyant stereotype to add some rainbow to your heterosexual khaki.
I don’t go to very many clubs. I like bars that are more pub-style. I like beer gardens where I can sit in the sunshine and read a book. For me, clubs are not a safe space because they feel too chaotic. I don’t relate to that emotion, but I know many who would. It is a personality thing, no doubt.
My safe spaces tend to be other people. My safe space is often myself.
That said, I do not walk around this world in fear. I refuse. I will go where I please and do as I please. Is it safe? No. But I will not be hemmed in by hatred. I will not be contained. This is my world too. Deal with it.