Denied full humanity — even in death

The recent murderous attack on people enjoying themselves at Pulse, a gay nightclub in Orlando, offers a variety of reasons for outrage. It was ostensibly a terrorist attack by a man who, oddly, claimed allegiance to two different Middle Eastern terrorist organizations that oppose each other. It was an attack with firearms that provided the attacker overwhelming firepower against helpless victims. It was possibly one man’s reaction to his unresolved internal conflict over his own sexuality. And it was very much an attack specifically aimed at those now frequently collectively identified as LGBTQ — lesbian, gay, bisexual, transvestite, queer.

Funny thing, though. While many groups and organizations around the country have held rallies and memorial services for the dead, specifically acknowledging that they were members of the LGBTQ segment of our society, others seem to go out of their way to ignore that factor. They cry out against terrorist attacks, excessive availability of guns, and even against the religion of the attacker, but they seem strangely silent about the fact that one of the crimes committed at Pulse was that of attacking innocent victims because their sexual orientation was different from the majority.

When I was growing up, if the subject of homosexuality was mentioned, it was usually with snickers and disdain. And more often than not, as the central theme of an adolescent joke. As the years passed, the topic slowly became more public but not more acceptable. No longer just the punchline of bad jokes, homosexuality seemed more and more to be a reason to attack, even kill, people. The famous Marine Corps War Memorial at Washington, portraying the raising of the flag on Iwo Jima, at some point became a night meeting place for homosexuals. And a hunting ground, sometimes a killing field, for those “normal” people who objected to the fact that some folks were different from them. The rest of us glanced at the news of such crimes, shook our heads, tossed the morning newspaper aside and left for work. Not our problem, most of us. We didn’t condone brutality, but it was easier just to dismiss the incident and think of something else. It didn’t really touch us unless we had a family member or close friend who was among those we now call LGBTQ. It’s easy to dismiss bothersome matters if they can be kept at arm’s length.

There is a woman whose intellect, clarity of thought, and just plain common sense have impressed me for several years. We’ve exchanged thoughts on language and history a few times, but I would never consider myself in her league as a thinker. A university professor with a Ph.D. from a respected institution, she is a writer, an editor, and an overall sharp lady. Oh, and she’s a lesbian. Somehow I can’t seem to think of that as an important fact. I consider her different only in the sense that she’s smarter than most. Although I can’t claim to know her really well, I would be highly chagrined, as if we were close associates, to know she was being abused in any way because of her sexual orientation. And I could not possibly be reluctant to acknowledge her as a friend, if I were actually able to make that claim.

It seems to me that, if we continue to look the other way instead of standing up for LGBTQ persons who are attacked, and if we refuse to publicly acknowledge that they are fellow humans, we are growing new generations who will be just like us. They will assure themselves that they are righteous and that those with a different sexual orientation are, if not evil, at least deserving of scorn, of our pretending they don’t exist. And we will have helped perpetuate an environment where evil sees murder of our sisters and brothers as a reasonable option.

This story was originally published June 25, 2016 at 6:14 PM with the headline "Denied full humanity — even in death."