An Ode to LGBT Dance Floors

In the LGBT community, a LGBT nightclub is more than a building, a bar, bottles of liquor, or a dance floor. It is a refuge- often the only place for us to be ourselves

Our equality movement started when we refused to allow Stonewall to be raided. These clubs are where, for decades, the vilified, degraded, and alone came to feel praised, worthwhile, and surrounded by people like them.

In the LGBT community the LGBT nightclub is sacrosanct, and yet I awoke on Sunday to find that a madman decided to stain the floors of one of our clubs with the blood of my brothers and sisters.

Such a grave loss is made even worse by the fact that this senseless atrocity occurred in the one place we, as LGBT-Americans, are supposed to be safe and free.

As a writer I could pen powerful prose to describe the moments the bullets ripped through the bodies of more than 100 people in Pulse nightclub. However, I wasn’t there. No matter how empathically I feel attached to this heinous attack, my words would ring hollow.

So instead, let me tell you why our clubs mean so much to me.

When I came out in Hattiesburg, MS in 2002, there was a LGBT club downtown. The first night I went, I was too scared to go inside.  I sat in my car and watched the people enter and exit the club. I was paralyzed! If I entered those doors, there would be no turning back! My political aspirations, church, family and friends would likely disappear.

It was a long time before I attempted to go again. The club had moved to a large warehouse in a less visible area. I was out now and as I had feared the political ladder had been removed, and most of my friends had disappeared. I had nothing left to lose! As I exited my car, my heart raced and I vividly remember feeling sick.

Inside the club, as I waited for a bouncer to check my ID, something miraculous happened. The painful pounding of my nervous, broken heart, was replaced by the pulsating beats a DJ across the club produced.

When you are in the closet, you get used to feeling alone in a crowded room. From a very early age we only know loneliness-searching every moment for another that feels the same. That was the first night in my, then, 20 years of life that I felt comfortably surrounded in a crowded room.

13 years later, with no LGBT club to go to, I still dance at straight clubs around Hattiesburg. Everyone, no matter where I go, knows me. I’m that red-headed lesbian in the middle of an empty dance floor, moving seamlessly to the beats a DJ provides me. However, it is not the same! I dance on these floors with my eyes closed. Many ask why I dance this way, and I feed them excuse, but the truth is my soul ACHES for the comfort of my club and community. So I close my eyes, throw my head towards the heavens, and attempt to time-travel back to my home.

As facts emerge from the worst mass shooting in US history, those of us in the LGBT community know this to be true…before 100s of bullets ripped through 103 people because of the hate of one man, 350 people entered Pulse nightclub, danced, laughed and felt comfortably surrounded in a crowded room.

Some assume we are weak because we are gay. How idiotic of you! In fact, we are some of the strongest humans society has to offer. Your words, stones, and bullets can never defeat us! We are not so far removed from birth when we first realize that the majority can’t understand us, and a powerful few wish to end us. Yet, we still survive, thrive, and gather to dance.

To those who seek to end us, you will fail in dramatic fashion. To those who seek to support us, there are no combinations of words that can properly express our gratitude! To those in our community who have forgotten the importance of our dance floors, it is time to remind yourself!

Most importantly, To ISIL and any human that calls for the death of members of my community, remember the name Jennifer Morgan!

I am now your greatest enemy. However, I don’t need bullets or bombs to end you!  I simply need the familiar beats of my clubs, and an unwavering love for my gorgeous community.

I can take your hate deep within myself because my soul was made unconquerable the moment I stepped foot in that club. I need not fight hate with hate. Instead, I release nothing but the love of my heart, and the musical beats of my soul. You may not understand it yet, but those things are far superior to any weapon of death you might possess.