“We’re just people, just like anybody else,” a woman at the vigil, who asked not to be named, said.
The folks who gathered for the vigil said they want others to see their tears and their pain.
“We’re here, we’re strong, we’re people,” Phillip Burrell, himself a member of the LGBTQ community, said.
The vigil honored the lives lost to another mass shooting.
“I was two hours away at another LGBTQ club and as I got home, I got this phone call seeing if I was alive,” Burrell said.
The community, their supporters, and allies, said the feeling is a constant target on their back for who they are.
“Every time I go out to a certain event, at Tracks or wherever it is, always looking for exits, always worried about that, worried about our LGBTQ community out and about,” the woman said.
She said it’s always only a matter of time before you’re attacked or harassed.
“My friends friend was attacked and called a gay slur the other day,” the woman said. “She ended up in the hospital, she’s ok though.”
For the crowd gathered at the vigil to mourn others like them, was a very somber safe space.
“The spaces that we go, like Club Q and Tracks should be safe spaces,” the woman said. “We’re not there bothering anyone, it’s just a time to have fun and dance.”
While support and comfort can be fleeting in a hostile world, a solemn vigil becomes a respite to the marginalized.