The slaughter of 50 people at a gay nightclub in Orlando spread grief and wariness among Atlanta’s LGBT community, but people reacted with a defiance to be strong amid such horrific events.
Waking on a balmy Sunday morning, they saw their Facebook accounts and social media alerts light up with news of a terrorism massacre that targeted people just like them. The sheer number of the dead stunned them.
They rushed to find out whether they knew any of the victims. They gathered to mourn and reflect. Vigils were hastily arranged. And debates over guns, individual liberties and terror flared once again.
Even as thoughts and prayers went out for the victims, frightful ruminations sank in closer to home.
“I wonder if it could happen here,” said Jeff Graham, executive director of Georgia Equality, an advocacy group for the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender community. “It could happen anywhere at any time.”
Atlantans are no strangers to attacks of terror and hate, and the carnage brought people back to an anxious time when we had three terror attacks in seven months: the 1996 bombing of Centennial Olympic Park, as well as the bombings of the lesbian night club the Otherside and an abortion clinic in 1997.
Expressions of grief and support emerged from many sectors of metro Atlanta, but the sharpest pain was felt in the LGBT community. This was the worst mass shooting in American history, and it targeted them. It reopened old wounds.
“These people’s lives were destroyed by homophobia,” said Lewis Bello, a performer in local gay bars. “They are my family whether or not I know them.”
Local leaders of the LGBT community were hesitant to say the Orlando attack represented a step back from advancements such as the legalization of gay marriage and the mainstreaming of the Atlanta gay pride festival, but some people said they felt an insecurity they hadn’t experienced in years.
“I had friends say this morning, ‘I’m afraid to go out to a bar,’ ” said Philip Rafshoon, who had owned the popular Outwrite gay bookstore and coffee shop.
He fought that fear with defiance: “Well, I’m going out tonight. I hope a lot of people go out tonight, and I think they will.”
“Our American way of life”
A gunman wielding an assault-type rifle and a handgun opened fire inside a crowded gay nightclub early Sunday, killing at least 50 people and wounding 53 before dying in a gunfight with SWAT officers, police said.
The attack on the Pulse nightclub was especially frightening because such establishments are often seen as a sanctuary, a safe place where same sex couples can hold hands without worry, said Anthony Michael Kreis, a legal scholar at the University of Georgia.
Sunday’s shootings added a new dimension to the history of hate against gays and lesbians. The Islamic State claimed responsibility for the deadly assault.
“It’s really an attack on our American way of life with its freedom to live out our lives,” Kreis said.
Two candlelight vigils for the victims of the Orlando massacre occurred Sunday night in Atlanta.
The Armorettes, a drag group that fundraises for HIV/AIDS in Atlanta, performs at the gay club Burkharts every Sunday night. But chair Jim Stockstill — his stage name is Pin K Lemon-aid — said the performance on Sunday was different. He wanted to participate in a planned vigil in the parking lot of the club to show that life goes on.
“It really is time for our community to come together and support on another,” he said.
Stockstill said he had been to Pulse in Orlando and cried when he heard the news of the shooting.
“I don’t know where you can be safe anymore,” he said.
At Burkharts Pub, general manager Don Hunnewell said he gathered several bar owners Sunday afternoon to see how they could support Pulse. They’re planning to raise money to see how they can help put Pulse back together, and there are jobs available in Atlanta’s gay establishments should anyone need them.
When Ben Nicoara’s friends started asking online what was planned to show support for the Orlando victims, he didn’t see anything. So he took it upon himself to plan a sunset vigil at Ten, a bar at 10th and Piedmont, long considered Main and Main in Atlanta’s LGBT community.
“It kind of exploded into a huge thing,” he said of the hundreds of RSVPs on Facebook. “I just wanted us to show our support and solidarity.”
The fact that the shooting happened at a gay bar was not a coincidence, Nicoara said. But it made it all the more important to come together.
“To me, what it says is that while there are a few out there who may not understand, there are thousands more who love and support us,” he said. “I think it’s important to show we’re not afraid.”
“Acknowledge and remember”
While the motivations of shooter Omar Mateen remain under investigation, many gay rights advocates say legislation they believe attacks the rights of gays and lesbians — such as those restricting the use of bathrooms by transgender people and others calling for so-called religious liberty — create an atmosphere that dehumanizes LGBT people.
“That harsh rhetoric is always a concern. You worry that somebody would think it’s OK to kill members of the LGBT community,” said Graham of Georgia Equality.
Some gay clubs have tightened security.
John Hagins, owner and operations manager of gay club Traxx Atlanta, said the club already conducts pat-downs at their entrance. Effective immediately, security will also use hand-held wands to check for “weapons and contraband,” he said.
Gays and lesbians immediately recognized this as a historic moment, even as the full measure of the horror was still sinking in. Some reflected on their own personal histories.
Alex Wan, an openly gay member of the Atlanta City Council, said he came out in an era when gay rights weren’t as accepted as today.
“I always do keep a little bit of a guard in my mind that at some point something could happen,” Wan said. “But you just don’t imagine anything on a scale like this. It’s devastating.”
Gay pride celebrations are scheduled across the country today, Wan noted on Sunday.
“I think it’s important for the community to come together and unite and be supportive,” he said. “And acknowledge, and remember.”
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