Hard Times Like These Prove the Resilience and Importance of Queer Friendship

When I learned about Orlando, I was at the gym with my partner. I was doing abs over on the mats when I caught sight of the news on the television overhead. I paused, frozen, and watched the news unfold. We didn't know the full story, then, just that something terrible had happened. I waved my partner over and asked if she'd seen what had happened, what was still happening. She nodded. We watched, together, as more and more details came out. It was haunting. We didn't know how to process it.

We still don't. The shooting is the only thing and the last thing my queer friends and I have talked about. We've texted each other, saying, simply, "Are you okay?" The answer, always, is a resounding, "No."

I keep telling my friends that I'm here for them even though I'm not okay either. I keep telling my friends that I'm here for them, in love, and in anger. I keep telling them that their feelings are valid, that their fear, their exhaustion, their sadness is real, and it matters. I keep telling them, and I keep telling myself.

And I feel so, so grateful to have so many queer friends. I keep seeing people on my feeds saying that they are miserable right now but have family and friends who wouldn't understand. They are a part of communities where this is just another tragedy. They say it's sad, but that sadness is brushed off. It isn't real. It isn't felt.

My community is queer. The people I love most are queer, openly or quietly, and feel this, deeply. And I hate that they feel how I do, but I am so grateful that they understand, inherently, why Orlando hits so hard, and so deeply, what strings it pulls on, how it tugs that deep down terror that things will never get better.

All over social media, too, I've seen hearts. So many hearts, so much support. I've seen love. Right now, we feel weak, but together we are strong. We have each other's backs in the most real way.

Yesterday, I Skyped one of my closest friends for two hours and we talked about everything but the shooting, despite having texted briefly about being close to anxiety attacks and talking each other through the intense dip the shooting caused in our own mental illnesses. It wasn't until the very end of the call that we brought it up. There wasn't anything to say.

All we know is that we can't keep living like this. All we know is that we're grateful for each other, and for our fellow queer and trans friends and loved ones and lovers who feel, deeply, what we feel, and know how to soothe each other's hurt.