I

attended my sister’s high
school graduation on Sunday,
June 12, and listened to

speeches
on

hope
and

positive societal
change
in
a

crowd
filled

with many about to begin their adult
lives.

In the same 24 hours, the

United States suffered its largest
mass shooting in history with a
homophobic hate crime resulting in
the loss of 50 lives and the injury of
53 others at the Pulse, a gay nightclub
in Orlando that was filled with many
enjoying Latin Night. In the same 48
hours, singer Christina Grimmie was
shot while meeting fans after her
concert in Orlando.

What happened to Christina

Grimmie and what happened with
the homophobic killings in Pulse
have caused a sense of complete
frustration — my heart is aching
that these tragedies are so common.
Every single day horrific events are
occurring — the disgusting truth is
that, for many of us, there is a high
chance we will not know about
them if the lives impacted are not
valued by mainstream media, do not
impact members of our immediate
communities or do not impact those
in our lives. We must recognize this
as a fault, not try to justify it and take
active steps to remedy it by being
proactive consumers of information.

After these two tragedies, many

have been sending their thoughts
and
prayers.
But
while
some

might find that comforting, what
substantive action will follow and
be implemented to make sure we,
as a society, are doing everything
we can to prevent gun violence and
to protect those in the LGBTQIA+
community?

For starters, each of us must do

our part of recognizing the beliefs
and behaviors that stem from
homophobia and hatred in our own
communities — an example being one
ignoring the overlap of LGBTQIA+ ,
racial and religious identities. Audre
Lorde once said, “Within the lesbian
community I am Black, and within
the Black community I am a lesbian.
Any attack against Black people is a

lesbian and gay issue, because I and
thousands of other Black women are
part of the lesbian community. Any
attack against lesbians and gays is
a Black issue, because thousands of
lesbians and gay men are Black.” If we
play a part in the creation of binaries
— making it seem as if these identities
are mutually exclusive — we are
responsible for causing many to be
silent when they otherwise would
be steadfast in their solidarity. If we
recognize the rooted problems in our
communities that oppress members
within and outside our communities,
we have a responsibility to do what
we can to eradicate it if we can do
so without putting our physical,
emotional and mental safety at risk.
How could we live with ourselves if
we could and did not?

While our LGBTQIA+ brothers

and sisters are being killed, how
can we genuinely call ourselves
lovers of humanity if we’re staying
silent? When another life is lost and
yet again nothing changes for gun
control, how can we say we really
want to put an end to shootings if
we’re staying silent?

These feelings — these moments

of complete and utter shock over how
cruel mankind can be — will never go
away. We will unfortunately always
find moments of genuine beauty
and clarity in our lives being put to
an end when suddenly we feel our
hearts breaking and find ourselves
staring at a news headline wanting to
scream. I can’t pretend that this pain
is temporary and that if we all held
hands it would stop. It’s what we feel
we can do with these feelings that
matters and lessens the frequency
of deaths and injustice motivated by
hate.

“I am only one, but I am still one. I

cannot do everything, but still I can
do something. And because I cannot
do everything I will not refuse to
do the something that I can do,”
the student speaker at Salem High
School’s graduation said, quoting
Helen Keller to a graduating class of
more than 1,000.

Afterward,
I
spoke
with
a

graduating senior, Patricia Freitag, in
the crowd.

“I’m livid,” she told me. “I’m really

angry at how this country has let

things get this far, how I have stood
by and mourned for the families but
never actively done something.”

We are all one, but together, we

are all bodies of change and a future
that doesn’t have to learn about
yet another mass killing, another
injustice, another act of hate every
single day.

“The
first
step
is
bringing

awareness,” Freitag said. “People say
that there’s no point in retweeting
things, but look at the huge platform
it’s given younger generations — a
platform that others cannot ignore
and goes worldwide. There’s also
petitioning, signing and writing to your
representatives and local governments,
which many seem to ignore because
they believe one signature or one call
is too small. But if everyone whose
signature was so minuscule made
that small dent, collectively we could
make one of the largest impacts our
generation has ever seen.”

My heart goes out to all who lost

loved ones as a result of homophobic
mass shooting in Orlando — to those
who have been severely traumatized
and impacted by the aftermath.
My heart goes out to those in the
LGBTQIA+ community who are in the
closet and couldn’t publicly grieve, seek
comfort from their loved ones or solace
from their friends and who were once
again forced to suffer through pain and
heartbreak alone. My heart goes out to
to the Muslims who may experience
Islamophobia as a result of this —
especially those at the intersection of
the LGBTQIA+ and Muslim identity.
My heart goes out to to the family and
loved ones of Christina Grimmie, to
her big brother who had to watch his
little sister die and her fans who saw
someone they loved shot right before
their eyes.

To those of you who are able, who

are feeling a hundred emotions at
once and who want to genuinely help
prevent things like this in the future,
please speak up and do what you can
when you hear or see hate. People’s
lives — their hopes, dreams and loved
ones — are depending on it. I am still
only one, and so are you, but together
we’ll make a powerful many.

—Nadia Karizat can be reached

at nkarizat@umich.edu.

5
OPINION

Thursday, June 16, 2016

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

I am still one

NADIA
KARIZAT

Ending the cycle

Like we do after every other

tragedy, every other mass shooting
(this past Saturday’s being the 176th
mass shooting this year alone, and
the most fatal in American history
save the mass slaughters of Native
Americans), we will first mourn.
We’re told by news outlets that 50
people died and even more were
injured in a shooting at an LGBT
nightclub in Orlando, and that 26
kindergarten students and faculty
were shot dead in Newtown. People
will reprimand those who are
angered in Facebook threads on news
articles, telling them to be human
and mourn first before making it
a political issue. Your Facebook
friends and Twitter followers will
share articles about the tragedy and
post heartfelt prayers, and these
depressing posts will dominate your
news feed.

Next, it’s time for the outrage.

We are told who the shooter is,
their history and relationships are
revealed and their face is plastered
on articles and television reports
from The New York Times and
CNN. People will get in fights on the
Internet over what went wrong. If
the perpetrator is revealed to have
had ties to ISIS or another extremist
group, there’s chatter about Islam
being poison and all Muslims being
terrorists, and people will either
vehemently agree or disagree. Some
people will bring up mental health,
while others will discuss gun control.
Invariably, there will be unbridled
anger on the Internet. Other than the
occasional peacemaker, mourning
will have been forgotten by now.
Instead of remembering the victims,
we will have given attention to the
perpetrator — exactly what this
person wanted.

Then, it’s time to make a move in

the game of politics. Most politicians
will release messages that express
sentiments of sadness and immense
human loss, some will be outraged
and swear to improve the gun
control laws in our country, some
will angrily talk about finally getting
rid of radical groups and terrorism
and some will pat themselves on the
back even when the situation calls for
grief. If it’s an election year, everyone
has to be on their best, most political
and, dare I say it, presidential
behavior. Most of the statements
they make are supposed to represent
our best interests, our own personal
desires for a call for action, whatever
this action may be. The optimistic

parts of us all hope that maybe this
time there will be a huge change
that stops a tragedy like this from
happening again. The anger turns
into petitions and opinion pieces —
much like this one.

That’s the problem. It stops there.

Too soon, these precious lives lost
will be forgotten. Too soon, we’ll be
back to life as we know it, wrapped
up in our own little worlds. Too
soon, the same politicians who
expressed outrage and sadness and
a need for action will stop talking
about the tragedy, let alone doing
something about it. But it’s not just
the politicians who don’t remain
accountable — none of us do. We
are the ones electing these people.
We are the ones exuding racism,
sexism, homophobia, Islamophobia,
transphobia and every other phobia
out there. We are the ones who
embrace freedom but only ascribe
it to people selectively. Going back
to the status quo of hypocrisy and
hidden malice toward the “other”
sends a message to those looking to
harm innocents that they have an
opening and that they can easily get
away with it because we’re distracted
by our fears, our prejudices and
our melodrama of a presidential
campaign. Is that the way we want
to live?

I’ve been impacted enough by

my own hidden prejudices, even if
only marginally, due to my many
privileged identities; I’ve been called
names because of my Indian origin
— including one several years ago
that was said with the mistaken
assumption that I’m Muslim — and
I’ve been told overtly that I can’t
code well just because I’m a woman.
My acquaintances and friends in the
LGBTQ community are afraid that
our country is taking a step back from
same-sex marriage legality due to one
person’s hateful crime, and they are
terrified of copycat attacks and other
repercussions. My Muslim-American
acquaintances and friends are afraid
that they will be even less welcome
in their homes than before, maybe
even dangerously so. When we make
our own residents feel unsafe and
discriminated against based on their
own identities, how can we move on
to actually take action when people do
disgusting, sad things like this?

Talk is cheap. If we want to

actually be progressive, we need to
actually make a move. Let’s live up
to the emotions we’re feeling about
this horrific tragedy. Let’s start by

educating ourselves on social justice
and making this a truly equal playing
field for all. Let’s start by getting rid of
the “phobias” mentioned earlier that
fester in our cities and towns. Let’s
start by taking charge of the ideas and
attitudes we spew, intentionally or not,

to those who have different identities
than we do. And let’s hold not only the
perpetrators but also ourselves and
others accountable when tragedies
like Saturday night happen, at all
levels — interpersonal, community,
state, national and international. I’m

absolutely fed up with this. And I hope
you’re all just as fed up as I am, and that
you will consider this a desperate plea
for action and accountability.

—Anisha Sudarshan

is an LSA senior.

ANISHA SUDARSHAN | OP-ED