Reflections on Anger, Part 3

I want to talk about love. But “Love is love is love is…” not what I’m feeling right now. I cannot talk about love until I take the time to talk about all the Anger.

So if you've been following along, you'll know that this is the third post in my series reflecting on the anger I experienced following the Pulse Orlando shooting. This is likely to be the final post I make, mostly because I feel it's time to move on. Much of what I've written in these posts were assembled from bits of comments and notes I wrote in the first few days after the massacre. It has taken me awhile to assemble them coherently.Please take the time to read part one and part two, and then continue this last topic:

I’m angry at cisgender, straight people who say that we are the same.

In response to the Pulse, Orlando shooting I read a flurry of posts from straight, cisgender people saying “we’re all the same on the inside” or “love is love.” How sweet.To begin: Yes, I believe that as humans we all are seeking fulfillment and striving to achieve our full humanity. And, as humans we all should have the right to realize our hopes and dreams. But we’re not all the same, because the world is not structured in a way that values us equally. This structural inequality affects the options available to us, the decisions we make, and the impact this inequality has on our lives.Here's a simple example. When in public I have to ask my husband if it’s okay that I hold his hand. We have been together for years, are fairly physically affectionate, and yet I have to ask if it's okay if I hold his hand.I have to ask because of the possible danger that can come from two queer men holding hands in a public space. While we may not be attacked, the glances, the smirks, the eye rolls that we get (every time) make us uncomfortable because we are afraid we might be attacked—because we have experience of this happening before. Because we learn from our dear friends who have experienced this before. Because we learn from the news, from tv shows, from social media of the intensely anti-queer sentiment in the world and its violent outcomes. So, instead of reaching out and touching my partner gently as we stroll down the street I have to assess if I feel safe. I have to ask if he feels safe. And then we make a decision.This is only a small example of the day-to-day lived experience of difference, of the way anti-queer oppression affects us and how we live our lives. Code-switching, safety planning, defense classes, strategy sharing, buddy systems—these are things that queer people do routinely to navigate the danger that comes from anti-queer oppression. And queer people of color and trans folk experience even more danger from compounded oppression.To the straight and cisgender folk out there, I appreciate your desire to empathize and connect to my humanity. But this “we’re all the same” bullshit denies the real lived experience of oppression that I and other queer folk have experienced.So if you want to be a straight, cisgender ally, please acknowledge the unfair ways queer and trans folk are impacted by oppression. Tell us you understand that you don’t have to experience the same things because of the privilege heterosexism and cissexism offer you. And commit to working to dismantle the system that upholds bigotry and bias. This is solidarity. THIS is love.