Yesterday was difficult. It hurts too much to say more than that.
Why didn't you tell us you were a child in elementary school? That you lived in our house? That we made your lunches and checked in on you at night while you slept beneath your favorite blanket?
You went to the movies with friends? More than once? Ate popcorn and candy, slurped from straws, cheered and booed? Even clapped? How could you? Pervert. Have you no shame?
How dare you go to synagogue with family and friends, built a community of faith and belonging with voices raised on high? Listened to rabbis, opened your mind and heart? Are you insane?
You're black? How could you believe to have thoughts and feelings and tastes of your own? Can't you see your skin is wrong? It's like we don't know you anymore.
What do you mean you're Muslim? That you go to the mosque to pray? That you actually take off your shoes? Celebrate holy days? That's disgusting, you know that, right? Muslims can never have real families.
We raised you better than to work at an abortion clinic, earn a living, support yourself, your family, your community. You really wanted to help women seeking medical care during a critical time? We never raised you to escort women past lines of righteous protesters. To counsel and console. Did you ever think about anyone but yourself?
Why were you at that club? You're not gay. Are you? You can't be. Think of the family, our reputation. Think of how people will talk if they figure our you're a fag, homo, dyke, queer, drag queen, butt fucker, sissy boy, beaver queer. You never said anything.
Why aren't you answering your phone? Please...answer your phone...
Pulse Nightclub shooting
June 12, 2016