I rarely share my personal thoughts about Pulse in this space. Not because I don’t feel like they’re valid, but out of respect for Watermark’s proximity to the tragedy.
While we proudly serve the majority of Central Florida and Tampa Bay – the latter of which I’m honored to say I’ve helped guide for five years Dec. 11 – Watermark has deep roots in Orlando. It’s where we were founded in 1994 before expanding to Tampa Bay the following year.
Each area is Watermark’s home, but like they did on June 12, 2016, most of our staff lives in Orlando. That’s why I tend to leave space for their perspectives on that tragic night.
My default tends to be that there isn’t much I can say that they or other local leaders haven’t used these pages to say since then. Even so, I knew the morning of Nov. 20 that I was going to use this column to reflect on Pulse.
It was impossible not to, because that’s when the horrific news from Colorado about Club Q started taking substantive shape. It’s still difficult to digest, so I want to caution readers that I’m going to weigh in on gun violence after this.
“Club Q is devastated by the senseless attack on our community,” the Colorado Springs venue shared on social media Nov. 20. It was posted at 4:53 a.m.
“Our pray[er]s and thoughts are with all the victims and their families and friends,” it continued. “We thank the quick reactions of heroic customers that subdued the gunman and ended this hate attack.”
Like so many, it brought me back to June 12, 2016. That’s when I woke up in the middle of the night to see a post from Pulse’s Facebook page from 2:09 a.m.
I started following the venue after my sole trip there about six months prior. My husband, some of our loved ones and I were celebrating a friend’s birthday with an Orlando weekend at the time and really enjoyed ourselves.
“Everyone get out of pulse and keep running,” their post read. It has more than 40,000 reactions now, but as haunting as those words were then it was impossible to understand how heartbreaking they would become.
Eventually we learned that they meant 49 people had been killed, 58 more had been injured and that a community had been shattered. They meant that an LGBTQ safe space – at the time – had become the site of the deadliest mass shooting in modern U.S. history.
Not just any LGBTQ safe space, either, but one that I’d created memories inside of with people that I cared about. One that was so close to home that I and others in my circle were left wondering if we knew anyone who was inside; some of us did.
I’ve said before that I don’t know a single LGBTQ person whose life wasn’t somehow changed by Pulse, if only because we’ve never felt entirely safe in an LGBTQ bar again. It was the end of an era, one perhaps we never should’ve lived in to begin with.
Of course, far worse than losing a sense of security is losing a loved one, and so many did. My heart broke for our entire community that night and never fully healed, a wound that reopened with the news about Club Q.
When you come for one of us, you come for us all. Daniel Aston, Raymond Green Vance, Kelly Loving, Ashley Paugh and Derrick Rump, we remember you.
The U.S. has a sickness that will impact every American at some point if we continue to do next to nothing. Too many in this country are content with banning books instead of guns and silencing drag queens or teachers instead of the NRA.
It has to change, and one of the ways we start that process is by electing leaders who aren’t afraid to change it. Who aren’t afraid to speak out against LGBTQ hate or gun violence. Who aren’t people like Donald Trump, Ron DeSantis, Marco Rubio or Rick Scott.
The Republican Party of which they’re a key part has introduced and passed a record amount of anti-LGBTQ legislation this year, all while turning a blind eye to the epidemic of gun violence. The idea that any one of them or their supporters could be surprised by horrific attacks like these is absurd.
Our community doesn’t need thoughts and prayers, we need advocates and action. My heart goes out to everyone impacted by Club Q and my hope is that every LGBTQ American takes action to bring about serious change.
In this, our annual Remarkable People issue, we highlight local members of the community who are working to make Tampa Bay and Central Florida better in their own ways. We detail 10 incredible individuals, five from each area, and much more.
Watermark strives to bring you a variety of stories, your stories. Please stay safe, stay informed and enjoy this latest issue.
