Terrorism and Tending Thyme: Response to Orlando

Yesterday, after learning about the Orlando terrorism of the LGBT and ally community, I shared links to posts last year about the similar terrorism of an African American church in Charleston. The two may not initially appear to be all that similar, other than that they were shootings, but both have hit me very hard.

The one in Charleston because as someone who grew up in the church, I view places of worship as sacred and safe space. Yes, even as a member of the LGBT community, even though some religious people are critical of my marriage. Churches are a place where people come together around a common goal and try to be more human, to celebrate creation and redemption and fellowship.

The one in Orlando because although I don't visit gay clubs or bars much, there's a comfort in knowing that they exist. They're there if ever I need a place to socialize, to hold my wife's hand in public without fear, to know that no one will say "whomever you love" or "I don't have a problem with" or "judge not lest ye be judged" or any of the other comments that make my marriage seem strange or less than. LGBT clubs are places of acceptance and celebration.

It's unsettling to know that in the span of a year, both types of spaces have been through attempts to terrorize and desecrate them.

And I thought about Motor City Pride yesterday, which I hadn't planned to attend because there's still so much to do at #fixerupperdetroit, which is most of my gay agenda right now. We bought the house and are struggling to rehab it to create another safe space, a place where everyone can come and eat and share.

The most revolutionary thing I could think of to protest the violence in Orlando was to plant my garden, standing in my yard with a shovel and a watering can and a flat of assorted herbs. With every shovel full and every sprinkling, I planned to be around until the end of summer, until next summer, until the house is rehabbed and the space is safe and the world is better. I thinned out the day lilies and irises that came with the house to give the others room to breathe. I pulled on work gloves and pulled up picker weeds that would hurt people or turn people away or choke out my beauties.

How the world would be different if everyone pulled up the picker weeds and planted thyme and sage and rosemary and basil instead.