Silent With Grief: Club Q and Colorado Springs

So much to process, so much to say, but so few words

When I heard another set of shots go off, that’s when it clicked in my mind that, oh, it’s going down. — Joshua Thurman, a Club Q regular.

I don’t know what to say. I know I can’t write about anything else until I write about the massacre at Club Q in Colorado Springs, but the deaths and injuries — grievous losses to people I’ve never met — are almost too big to process.

I can grieve and mourn. I do. But can I write anything that illuminates, inspires, or helps?

I could condemn stochastic terrorism

I could say, “We LGBTQ people have been begging society to pay attention to politico-religious rhetoric that made the mass shooting at Club Q just a matter of time.” I could write that violence almost inevitably results from what some call “stochastic terrorism,” much of it emanating from social media like Twitter.

That’s true, but what’s the point of writing it … again?

I could mention that I predicted in my last article that anti-LGBTQ policies enacted by the Roman Catholic Archdiocese in Denver would add fuel to dangerous anti-LGBTQ fires. But I’ve been writing that for years, and no direct causal link exists anyway. The Catholic Church (well, conservative religion in general) is just one part of a multi-faced, outrage-fueling, anti-LGBTQ problem.

I could condemn American gun culture

I could say, “Proliferation of guns, particularly assault rifles, means mass shootings will keep haunting the U.S. That more guns equals more killings is just math, people.” That’s true, but American attitudes about guns are entrenched. People aren’t going to change their minds over one more mass shooting among many.

So why bother writing it?

I could point out that last week in Prism & Pen, the mother of an LGBTQ child wrote (twice!) about the profound shock to her queer family over the mass shooting at the University of Virginia. Did you even know about that shooting? It claimed four lives.

I could mention that an LGBTQ bar in New York City has recently faced sustained violence, with bricks thrown at or through windows. I could mention that incidents like that are on the rise around the U.S.

I’m not just writing about queer people.

Mass shootings fueled by anger at minority groups target Black people food shopping in upstate New York, Jewish people worshipping at a Pittsburgh synagogue, and so many more. Did you know the FBI recently warned of a “credible threat” to New Jersey synagogues? Can you imagine the fear?

I could go on, but I know you already know what I mean. Mass violence and threats of mass violence feel endless.

If I sound negative, it’s because I am. But don’t confuse negativity with despair.

I’ve followed the Colorado Springs mass shooting closely since Sunday. I’ve shared details, concern, and grief with queer friends and colleagues who live in Colorado. With them, I’ve read amazing journalism and inspiring stories about heroes.

I’ve learned that even though Colorado Springs is a conservative community in general, that the anti-LGBTQ hate group Focus on the Family is headquartered there, queer people have created and celebrated their own families, often centered at Club Q.

Richard Fierro is one of those family members. A military veteran, he was at the club during the shooting with his wife and children, watching one of his daughter’s drag-queen friends perform. His daughter survived. Her boyfriend did not.

You’ve probably already read that Richard is one of the club patrons who subdued the 22-year-old shooter, likely preventing a far larger death toll. I’m not writing about Richard today, but I’d urge you to read about him. This Washington Post article featuring a video of Richard telling his story is powerful.

I couldn’t get through it without shedding tears, but the mass shooting at Club Q is not a hero’s tale — as much I’d love to give a big hug to Richard and everyone who helped take the shooter down.

The Club Q massacre is a tragedy that will repeat soon, going by recent history

Is that me despairing? No, it’s me recognizing reality even while I stay hopeful. It’s me understanding I have little to say because others are saying it so well. I linked that Washington Post article because the reporting is AMAZING. So is reporting in The New York Times, The Guardian, CNN, NBC, PBS, and so many local news stations, even Fox affiliates.

Society in general seems to “get it”:

Club Q was a safe place for natural and created queer family to come together, be with one another, support one another, love one another. That center of family was invaded by a violent young man with guns who terrorized loving people who fought back and stopped him from doing much worse.

Most of the nation sat up in shock when they learned about the massacre at Club Q. Much of the nation is asking hard, probing questions about where we go from here. Many are talking about the ineffectiveness of red-flag laws designed to keep guns from dangerous people. Can they really work, or are they just sops to guilty political consciences?

Shocked young people are forming world views while critically examining their personal consciences.

I’m writing under no delusion that public reaction will produce positive results in the near or even medium-term future. But I write with hope that change must come, that things will get better. I see it in the air as part of the reaction to the tragedy that befell Club Q family members.

I just don’t have anything to say to help, even though I find I’ve written 1,034 words so far. So now? I’m going to go back to reading and watching great journalism while I share and mourn with queer family.

Real change is up to you, dear reader. Are you thinking about that? How will you be part of it?

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