I woke up this morning, and right away she told me what had taken place in the early hours of this very day. "Fifty murdered. More than fifty others injured. At a gay club..." and that's when she flushed red, her voice catching in her throat. My daughter, 15 years old.
She came out to my husband and I at age 13. Raised with love and acceptance, this changed nothing. We were simply happy to know more about who she was, who she was going to be. It was another piece of information about this life we created. We were thrilled that she felt comfortable enough to tell us, to let us in.
Over the next several weeks, we talked about it. SexEd shifted gears. My husband and I had to discuss silly things like how to handle sleepovers and the like. And, I asked my daughter how "out" she wanted to be. It was her information, her life. I was so proud of her when she answered, "Way out". She didn't want to hide at all. She wanted everyone she loved to know about this part of who she was.
Enter in Mama Bear.
See, Mama Bear knew and had seen bigotry. Mama Bear was well aware that her small girl-cub already had a tough climb ahead of her before adding Lesbian to her label. Female, Hispanic, and Atheist were already each a part of her 'contents included'. So Mama Bear and Papa Bear decided that, since we wouldn't always be able to protect her from the world, there was no way in hell we'd allow any family or friends to disrespect or dismiss her. A line was drawn. Is drawn.
With few bumps along the way, things have rolled rather smoothly. We've become the household her gay boyfriend can come to and feel comfortable playing with the makeup he loves. The two of them want to start a GSA at their high school. We've followed the fight for marriage equality - and the bathroom wars being waged against transgendered people in this country. But up until now, today, there's been a real sense of progress. Things were looking brighter. Better. I'd lost a little bit of the fear I had for her.
Today, that fear was found again, and it was found and mirrored in the depths of my daughter's eyes as she told me what happened in Orlando. Little more than two hours from where we live. It was in the flush of her face and the catch in her voice as she repeated the words, "Fifty dead. At a gay club".
In her eyes I saw hurt.
And fear. And sadness.
In her eyes, a light had dimmed.
But it didn't go out.
By the end of the day, with having read the responses of a country rallying in support of the LGBT community, that light is flaring once again. And as long as hatred is consistently condemned and overwhelmed with love, I think that light will continue to shine. A measure of hope in humanity that can be seen reflected in my daughter's eyes.