Love Is Proud

Hat Trick Overtime: Be True, Be Proud, Be Strong by Jeff Adams-1

Hat Trick Overtime: Be True, Be Proud, Be Strong by Jeff AdamsIf I couldn’t be on the ice first thing in the morning, inline skating was the next best thing. Okay, not really, but it worked. Since Alex and I moved into our apartment after graduation, we’d taken to skating in the morning since neither of us was a fan of running. Today I was on my own, since Alex was in Detroit for a conference ahead of going to Motor City Pride this afternoon.

It was a beautiful late spring Sunday morning, with the sun barely up and a cool breeze, amplified because of my speed along the neighborhood sidewalks. Music pumped in my ears, my usual dance mix that I used to motivate me when I was solo.

The music halted as a call came in. I glanced at my watch and was surprised to see Trevor’s name. Whether he was calling as my boss or my friend, this was unusual.

I came to an abrupt stop and swiped the watch screen to accept the call.

“Hi, Trevor. What’s up? It’s very early for you.”

“Yeah. Not my usual for sure. You seen any news this morning?”

“No. Why?”

He sighed. With the years we’d worked together already, I knew it was a sign this call wasn’t good.

“There was a shooting in Orlando this morning at a gay nightclub,” he said. Trevor was rattled. It was rare to hear him sound unsettled. “It’s bad from what I’ve heard so far. Many people dead or hurt. I got a call from Sandra. She wants as many people as possible to be in at eight to support anyone who needs it. I know you’re headed to Detroit with the team later this morning, but can you come in for a bit?”

“Of course.” There was no hesitation. If Trevor needed me, I was there. “I’ll be there.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you soon.”

I pulled my phone from my shorts and didn’t have to search far to see the news. Shootings like this were never easy to read about, whether in a school, a church or wherever. This was just as senseless, but this time the target was a gay club. That made it more personal.

The stories of some of the people who got out were chilling. No doubt, this was only going to get more intense as the story unfolded. It made sense that Sandra, the executive director of Ann Arbor’s LGBT community center, wanted staff there.

I told my watch to call Alex as I took off for home.

He picked up just before it would’ve gone to voicemail. “Hey,” he said sleepily. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

“Oh, man. I wasn’t thinking about the time.”

“I always like hearing from you. Be better if you were next to me though. What’s goin’ on?”

Why was I calling? It wasn’t like either of us was in danger or that he could do anything about what happened.

“I just needed to hear your voice,” I finally said.

“You okay?” He sounded more awake now and based on the shuffles I heard, I imagined he was sitting up in bed.

“Yeah. Sorry. There’s been a shooting at a club in Orlando. Pretty horrible. I’m going into work for a while before I head over with the team.”

“Wait. What? Why to work?”

“It’s a gay club. It’s not clear yet if it’s a hate crime, but it’s bad.”

“Damn,” he said quietly.

“So, like I said, I just needed to hear your voice, and know you’re okay. I knew you would be, but…”

“I wish I was there to hug you.”

“Me, too,” I said as I turned on to our street. “I’ll let you know when we hit the road so you know when to meet us.”

“So, you’re still coming?”

“Yeah. Trevor knows the outing is planned and I don’t imagine he’d want me to stay back with the team expecting to go.”

“Call me if you need to, okay?”

“Will do. I love you.”

“Love you, too. See you in a few hours.”

* * * *

The more news that surfaced, the more people that showed up at the center. We had one room with CNN on and other rooms where people could be with each other and talk. I’d split my time with Trevor and some of the teens from our youth groups, as well as with the parent groups.

I couldn’t watch the TV. It freaked me out. I didn’t get flashbacks from the violence I’d been through in high school too much anymore, but apparently this was a trigger. By the time I was told the team had arrived, part of the story was that this was likely terrorism and a hate crime rolled into one. Was that rhetoric or truth?

People were understandably uneasy. Parents feared for their children. Some wondered if this was the start of a new, more brutal wave of violence against the community. Young people saw it as an invitation to more bullying. While there were always reports of scattered homophobia with random assaults and even deaths, this was different because the shooter went after what people believed was a safe place.

I took a deep breath to settle myself before I entered the room where the team had gathered. As much as I wanted a moment, I’d have to get it later because we had plans that they were excited about.

For a lot of the Rainbow High hockey team, which had formed the previous fall, this was going to be their first Pride. The team had been the catalyst for many of them to take significant strides in being out publicly over the past few months. They decided they didn’t want to wait for Ann Arbor Pride in August, they wanted Pride now and convinced Alex and me to take them to the Motor City Pride parade.

Walking into the room was sobering. These guys were usually full of pep, no matter the hour or circumstance. The news had obviously impacted them. Unexpectedly there were several parents present, as well as team members who hadn’t signed up for the trip. When we planned the outing, only eight people were going and Alex and I were the only chaperons.

“Um, hi, everyone,” I said, not doing a good job at keeping my confusion hidden.

Mumbled greetings came from everyone.

“I see that you’ve all heard the news.”

“Yeah,” team captain Scottie said. “That’s why even more of us are here. We need to be seen and show we’re not scared. I rounded up as many of the guys who weren’t planning to go as I could. It was even more important since a couple dropped out.”

“And the parents are here to support, and help drive,” Scottie’s dad, Mr. Polan, added.

“That’s awesome,” I said, proud of these guys and especially Scottie for leading the charge. “It’s great you’re all here for each other and showing pride when the community needs it the most.”

TJ slipped in and dropped into a seat next to Scottie. He looked angry and hurt.

“Hey,” Scottie said. “Was afraid you’d changed your mind like some others did.”

“No, just late. And not happy Bryan’s parents aren’t letting him come. They’re worried something will happen.”

“Sorry, man,” Scottie said, giving TJ an awkward sideways hug.

“It’s bad enough my mom said the same thing,” TJ said, his voice getting louder as he spoke. “She’s freaked because not only was it a gay club, but it was Latin night, too. She’s worried something could happen today. Something could always happen. I could get hurt playing hockey, get run over by a car, beaten up because I’m trans. Whatever. You can’t stop doing what you’re doing. Right, Coach Simon?”

“I can’t argue with that,” I said. “It’s the way I try to live even when it’s difficult like today. Bryan’s not even seventeen, though, so his parents have to do what they think’s best.”

“How’s this best?” TJ asked.

“It’s not always easy to know,” Scottie’s dad piped up. “His mom and I are always a little concerned. In the world we live in, Scottie’s a target.”

“Dad, come on,” Scottie protested.

“You know we’ve talked about this, and I think it’s worth sharing. If a stranger looked at all of you and had to pick out someone who was gay, they’d pick Scottie first. But that’s who my son is, and while we’ve discussed over the years how he needs to be aware of his surroundings and to be safe, I’d never ask him to change the way he is. It’s the rest of the world that needs to change because he’s just as much God’s creation as anyone is.”

Scottie bolted from his chair, with the exuberance that was his trademark, and practically pounced on his dad, who stood along the wall.

“Thanks, Dad,” Scottie said as he gave him a hug that looked like it might squish him. Unfazed, his dad smiled and returned the embrace.

“I’m scared to death to do this,” said Fred, out of the blue. “What if…I mean there’s a lot of people in this state who are hateful towards gays. If we can’t be safe in a place that is for us, how can we be safe anywhere? What keeps us safe in Detroit?” He got up, hesitated for a moment, but then went for the door. “Maybe I should just go home.”

These were the conversations of the morning. I’d heard them from young people and adults and I wasn’t surprised to hear it here. Everyone’s sense of personal safety was just that—personal. I struggled to find the right thing to say.

“I’ve thought about that a lot this morning,” I said, which stopped Fred in his tracks. “The first place I was out publicly was an all-ages club in Pittsburgh. Alex and I didn’t have to worry about who was around because, as you said, it was a place that was for us.”

I paused to find more words and decided to share something personal.

“I know most of you know the public version of what Alex and I went through in high school, but here’s what you may not know. There were a few days where we broke up right after my friend, Jackson, was killed while defending us.”

“No way,” Scottie said, so quietly that I almost didn’t hear it. “Broke up?”

“It’s true. If Jackson could die because I was gay, I didn’t want to be gay. I didn’t want Alex. I didn’t want anything. I hid in my room until my team captain finally talked sense into me. You may remember a couple years ago there were gay bashings on campus. That was a difficult time, too, because you didn’t know if you were being targeted. It’s a difficult mix, staying true to yourself and proud of who you are while being strong when things get difficult.”

The room was quiet and I was afraid maybe I’d said too much. Scottie moved in closer to his dad and a couple of the parents nodded.

Fred looked to the floor, but didn’t leave. I went to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “But, no one’s going to think less of you if you don’t come.”

Suddenly he wrapped his arms around me just before his body heaved in sobs. I used my free hand to support him. “It’s so awful,” he sputtered out. “Most of them are just a few years older than us.”

TJ came up and put his arm around Fred’s waist. “Come with us,” he said. “We’ll take care of each other.”

“How do you do it, TJ?” Fred asked through his tears. “Scottie? I have to fight with myself to not hide. Both of you charge on even though you’re easily identifiable as different. I mean, TJ you’re…Shit. I’m sorry. I really should just leave.”

TJ didn’t release Fred. “You’re right. I’m Latino so I’ve got darker skin. I’m dating a white guy, which can be an issue. Depending on the day I get crap about how I look because people feel the urge to label it—most can’t decide if I’m a dyke or a fag.

“Simon’s right. You gotta be yourself and take pride in it. Pride was difficult for me for a long time.” TJ stopped and looked around the room. “But you guys helped me find it. You don’t care I’m a trans guy. You don’t care about skin color. You don’t care about all the labels. So if I get s**t from anyone, I know it’s their problem. You guys make me stronger. You’re my tribe.”

The room broke into applause. It was harder to hold my feelings in check, but I did. Even as my pride swelled for these guys, my heart ached for the people who were lost, injured and their loved ones. This tribe hadn’t been shattered, though. If anything it was growing stronger.

Bryan and his parents came in as we were cheering.

“What’d I miss?”