Q - uestions

 So, the site of Colorado's most recent mass shooting was a gay bar. This is a feature of many of the stories recounting the murder of five innocent victims this past Saturday night. Some prefer the more polite "LGBTQ Nightclub," but I keep wondering how it is that a bar or a nightclub can actually express its sexual identity. 

Before you suggest that it is the clientele that makes this distinction so clear, I suppose I should let you all in on what needn't be a secret: I have been in a gay bar before. The music was great. No one, to my recollection, made a pass at me. Neither relieved nor offended by this non-event, I should say that I also went to more than my share of straight bars in my day. I was never hit on in those bars either. So maybe I should be offended in some way. Or maybe I should surrender to the reality that I never went to a bar with the intent of meeting anyone. "Hooking up" as the kids used to say, was not on my agenda. I can also say with relative certainty that there were plenty of men and women who go out on any given night with the expressed intent of doing just that. The predatory vibe that exists in many of these straight establishments is often embellished by the institutionalized celebrations of Ladies Night, during which those of the fairer sex are invited to enter and drink copiously for next to nothing while the "Gentlemen" are there to pay full price to have their pick of the inebriates. 

All of which is to say that when it comes to "grooming," I believe the hetero norm does a lot more procurement of anonymous sex than their gay counterparts. When I was in college, I went out with a group of women who frequented a couple of gay bars because they wanted to drink and have a good time dancing without having to worry about being propositioned beyond the dance floor. 

It only took a few days after the hero of Saturday's massacre to be revealed as a combat veteran, father and husband who used his training to subdue the gunman with the help of another bar patron. That's when the comments and the social media posts began: "What was a forty-five year old Army veteran doing at a gay bar on a Saturday night?" The insinuation being made on the same level that brought violence to Club Q in the first place. Something wrong. Something bad. Something unnatural. 

Richard Fierro was celebrating a birthday with his wife and his daughter. He was dancing and having a good time when a nutjob showed up with an AR-15. That's when he stopped having a good time. His family stopped having a good time. He started saving lives. 

And in case you're wondering, if I were given the choice between having a child who was gay or a drag performer or someone who liked to go out and have a good time or having a child who was a murderer, I suppose the choice would be simple. I wish it was for everyone.