It's been 2 years, 2 years since a closeted 15 year old sat infront of the news and cried. She cried for the people who died, who were just being who they were. 2 years later, she is no longer in the closet, she is out and proud because those people can no longer be. I will always be proud to be who I am, because there are people out there who do no longer have that luxury. We have a pulse, we need to use it.
I was in the front row for this performance. It destroys me just as much the second time...and the fifth. This one doesn't get any easier. I'll spend my life working to heal my community, my family, if that's what it takes.
I woke up that morning to people checking in safe on Facebook. I immediately looked and saw that the last place my dad checked in with his boyfriend was pulse. I was paralyzed. It took me forever to reach them. Thank you for this
When the first responders entered the Pulse Nightclub after the massacre in Orlando, they walked through the horrific scene of bodies and called out, "If you are alive, raise your hand." I was sleeping in a hotel in the Midwest at the time, but I imagine in that exact moment, my hand twitched in my sleep. Some unconscious part of me aware that I had a pulse that I was alive. The next day, I woke to the news that an assault rifle had fired 202 bullets to a gay bar on Latin Night in one of the worst massacres in US history. The massacre of people who did not leave the dance floor when they heard gunshots because they thought they were just the beats of a song. Everyone around me spent that day grieving and every tear tasted like someone's dance sweat drying in the morgue. Later that night, I was performing for an audience that had spent two hours in line waiting to get through the bag checks and metal detectors. On stage, I couldn't keep my hand from covering my heart. I kept scouring the club for the fastest route to every exit. I knew the person working security was in a text war and wasn't keeping his eyes on the door. I knew there was a man in the fifth row picking at the seams of a duffel bag. Every few seconds, I died. The balcony for the glint of whatever might aim to tear the bodies of the spirits of the boys holding hands or the girls with hair cut short as my temper when rage is a decimal I can actually get to. When I not just grieve, sick and ruined, watching history not be history, but in the music not be music. Knowing someone having the best night of her whole life said, "This is my favorite song," and then a rifle lifted over a bathroom stall and emptied a magazine into the kidneys of a grown man texting, "Mommy I'm going to die," his hand prints in blood on the wall reaching for people dying in the fetal position. People covered in their friend's blood, sobbing too hard to hide from their own deaths. People outside pushing bandannas into bullet wounds. It's true, what they say about the gays being so fashionable. Their ghosts never go out of style. Even life, it's like funeral practice. Half of us are already dead to our families before we die. Half of us on our knees trying to crawl into the family photo that night on stage. I kept remembering being fifteen at Disneyland, wearing my best friend's hoodie like it was my boyfriend's class ring. How many years it took me to just touch her face. How many years I spent praying my heart could play dead to the threat was gone to the world changed till history was history, but history just keeps coming for the high, shooting up bodies, kids drumming up reasons to have metal detectors at poetry readings with the poems. They're just unanswered calls to people who claim their God, their apathy, is unwilling to accept the charges. Dear God, how broke do you have to be to not buy people, time to get out the fucking door when the song goes to hell, when this world drunk on hate decides blood is wine and drinks its fill in the only place they ever thought was safe and the only place they thought they did not have to hide in, the only place they were wanted because, because of who they loved and how they loved and how they loved till someone walked to the bodies and asked who was still alive. And hardly anyone put their hand up.
"Because, BECAUSE, of who they loved." I could hear Andrea silently say, "NOT DESPITE OF who they loved!" This had me in tears. I didn't know I could love Andrea or Mary anymore than I already did... and then I heard this. Amazing!
I didn't know anyone personally, but I broke into tears that day. I was working at Miami International Airport and one of the customers was walking extremely fast as if he wanted to run to his plane. His brother was one of the 49. Listening to this, reminded me of how he looked at me while he tried to hold his tears. It broke me.
how can a person feel so much in only 8 minutes?? "watching the music not be music" such an important part and giving me lots of feelings, music is more than music even when it's not music at all ... when Poetry meets Music and they dance together in the heart of the audience ..nothing on earth is sweeter ♥ In darkness when we pick ourselves up and we rise towards the light, that is when we know our strength, praying for the innocent lives taken that night and for the families, friends and others who still are living in the nightmare today... in talking about it or listening to songs/poems/videos such as these it gives a glimmer of hope and peace, which is a diamond of humanity in the dirty ground of injustice and hate.. one day at a time ... love always wins. thank you for sharing this ♥ and for everyone involved.
I was awake when I found out, I was laying in bed across the country scrolling through facebook. It flooded with livestreams of what was happening. In the day time I didn't talk a lot. My parents didn't know at the time I was lgbt so it was another day to them. Maybe a 'oh thats horrible' but nothing added on. Like if we lived in a different state and I was a little older it could have been me and they would have a drastically different opinion. Mourning in silence I think was the worst part, I went to school and no one spoke about it. Not a word, no whispers, just like it didn't happen. I still don't know how to bring it up with my mom. This was very powerful
Bethany Snoww I’m so upset that nobody said a word about it in school. I feel they should have done something like have everyone go to the auditorium and have a moment of silence in remembrance for the lives that were lost. All those people deserve more.
If we remember ww1 and ww2 I dont get why schools dont remember things like this, because it hurts just as much as war and it is in a lot of respects a war in its self
I am fortunate enough not to have known anyone personally who was killed that night, but every day where it is the 12th of the month, I think it has been another month gone, all those people gone, all those lives gone, all those families still suffering over the people that are gone. I sit in my room sometimes and realize that The only name Society will remember is the name of the man who killed all those people, and hurt all those lives, and that is awful. So just, thank you for doing something that was about remembering them, remembering the people who were affected, remembering how all of our lives are irrevocably changed from that night forward. This random gay trans guy on the Internet really appreciates it.
I also did not know anyone personally, but I can say that, at least in Orlando, none of the 49 have been forgotten. I don't even remember the killer's name. Each week, those who passed away are featured on social media--honored individually--and just last week the soccer stadium unveiled 49 rainbow seats in memory of the Pulse victims. There continues to be new artwork and community events to honor what happened in June, and businesses still have "Orlando Strong" on their boards. I am saddened that it seems that the rest of the world has forgotten, but Orlando never will.
Aleksandra I rewatch this poem a lot when I'm having a bad day, and I just saw your reply. Thank you, just thank you. It gave me something to smile about.
This hurts my heart. It perfectly captures the way I, and probably the way many others, felt after this terrible event. Thank both of you so much for this beautiful and moving performance.
I'm crying so hard. When I heard about the shooting I had just turned 11. 11 years old and still I cried. I cried for the lives that we're lost. Cried that there is so much hatred in the world that it has gone to that extent. Cried because I knew I would never be accepted as who I am fully.
So incredibly moved. What a performance from both, but it's hard to call it "performance" outside of the fact that you were in front of others, it was just so raw and honest. Thank you so much.
You know, it's been a little over a year since this God-awful event, but I find myself watching this video about once a month. It reminds me to be grateful for life and the acceptance I have around me. It reminds me to be loving to all and not let hate consume me - to not let hate reside in me. While the topic is devastating and others may stray from it for that reason, this poem and song duo is truly beautiful.
Man I can't wait until I meet Andrea, they are unapologetically authentic. And their words are so powerful. Andrea keeps me alive most days. They are my pick me up.
"I wore my best friends hoodies as if it was my boyfriends" I cried... Coz I know that I will never get a chance to tell her how much she means and how much I love her! 😭😭😭 and that shit hurts
It's the 2022 Trans Day of Rememberance, and after waking up to the news of the shooting in Colorado, I'm back here again- watching history not be history. My heart is broken. Tired. There's no space for anger yet, but I know there will be. There has to be- I can't think of anything else to hold onto but the need to keep fighting. For my nephews, for my friends, for strangers a world away. But for right now, all I can do is cry.
I will always remember how lucky I am to be here for all the times I tried to die and all the people who have told me I should. I am proud of being a transgender gay man I hope if you are reading this you know you are special for being alive. ❤️
Listening in 2023, with arms wrapped around myself weeping. “Mommy, I’m going to die.” This week there were two mass shootings here in California. And another slew of people grapple with their slain family.
Cory Alan Whitehurst how are you seriously so dead inside that your only response it to berate this poet for not using this tragedy as an excuse for more hatred in the world?? are you seriously incapable of basic human compassion?
The point of a poem or song, isn't to talk about everything that happened. Rather, it chooses one viewpoint or emotion and blows it up perhaps even out of proportion. She chose to talk about the horror of the event, but specifically the horror of a safe place being broken. A place where 49 people who had been rejected by their families came to find community and acceptance, instead became the place where they were taken from not just their community but the from world. The favorite song they would listen to on repeat to get them through the struggle of being in the closet, betrayed them by hiding the warning sound waves created by the gunshots. Their safe place became their gravestone. That is horrible and deeply troubling. I believe this was her point. She could have talked about how he used Islam as an outlet for his hatred. But she chose not to. She also could have talked what the world would be like with 49 more names in it. But she didn't. You can't talk about everything in one poem or song. Nothing can truly grasp the horror of that day. Even Art has its limit
It's been 2 years, 2 years since a closeted 15 year old sat infront of the news and cried. She cried for the people who died, who were just being who they were. 2 years later, she is no longer in the closet, she is out and proud because those people can no longer be. I will always be proud to be who I am, because there are people out there who do no longer have that luxury. We have a pulse, we need to use it.
No
I hope you are thriving now! ❤
This made me understand the gravity of this shooting properly for the first time. I don't live in America and I don't think I ever really processed...
"half of us dead to our families before we even die"
this line really got me.
That’s hit me.
I was in the front row for this performance. It destroys me just as much the second time...and the fifth. This one doesn't get any easier. I'll spend my life working to heal my community, my family, if that's what it takes.
I woke up that morning to people checking in safe on Facebook. I immediately looked and saw that the last place my dad checked in with his boyfriend was pulse. I was paralyzed. It took me forever to reach them. Thank you for this
When the first responders entered the Pulse Nightclub after the massacre in Orlando, they walked through the horrific scene of bodies and called out, "If you are alive, raise your hand."
I was sleeping in a hotel in the Midwest at the time, but I imagine in that exact moment, my hand twitched in my sleep.
Some unconscious part of me aware that I had a pulse
that I was alive.
The next day, I woke to the news that an assault rifle had fired 202 bullets to a gay bar on Latin Night in one of the worst massacres in US history. The massacre of people who did not leave the dance floor when they heard gunshots because they thought they were just the beats of a song.
Everyone around me spent that day grieving and every tear tasted like someone's dance sweat drying in the morgue.
Later that night, I was performing for an audience that had spent two hours in line waiting to get through the bag checks and metal detectors.
On stage, I couldn't keep my hand from covering my heart. I kept scouring the club for the fastest route to every exit. I knew the person working security was in a text war and wasn't keeping his eyes on the door. I knew there was a man in the fifth row picking at the seams of a duffel bag. Every few seconds, I died. The balcony for the glint of whatever might aim to tear the bodies of the spirits of the boys holding hands or the girls with hair cut short as my temper
when rage is a decimal I can actually get to. When I not just grieve, sick and ruined, watching history not be history, but in the music not be music. Knowing someone having the best night of her whole life said, "This is my favorite song," and then a rifle lifted over a bathroom stall and emptied a magazine into the kidneys of a grown man texting, "Mommy I'm going to die," his hand prints in blood on the wall reaching for people
dying in the fetal position. People
covered in their friend's blood, sobbing too hard to hide from their own deaths.
People
outside pushing bandannas into bullet wounds. It's true,
what they say about the gays being so fashionable. Their ghosts never go out of style. Even life, it's like funeral practice.
Half of us are already dead to our families before we die. Half of us on our knees trying to crawl into the family photo that night on stage. I kept remembering being fifteen at Disneyland, wearing my best friend's hoodie like it was my boyfriend's class ring. How many years it took me to just touch her face. How many years I spent praying my heart could play dead to the threat was gone to the world changed till history was history, but history just keeps coming for the high, shooting up bodies, kids drumming up reasons to have metal detectors at poetry readings with the poems. They're just unanswered calls to people who claim their God, their apathy, is unwilling to accept the charges. Dear God, how broke do you have to be to not buy people, time to get out the fucking door when the song goes to hell, when this world drunk on hate decides blood is wine and drinks its fill in the only place they ever thought was safe and the only place they thought they did not have to hide in, the only place they were wanted because, because of who they loved
and how they loved
and how they loved
till someone walked to the bodies and asked who was still alive. And hardly anyone put their hand up.
"Because, BECAUSE, of who they loved." I could hear Andrea silently say, "NOT DESPITE OF who they loved!" This had me in tears. I didn't know I could love Andrea or Mary anymore than I already did... and then I heard this. Amazing!
I came out to my dad on this day because I couldn't hold it in any longer. My love, ANDREA, thank you! xoxo
well its a sunday today and im bawling my fucking eyes out here
2 years after, I am still listening to this poem. Grief is such a heavy things. And Andrea, with this poem, has created such a communion. Ah! Lord!
although I have watched this video a thousand times, there is no way to keep from sobbing every.single.time
I feel honored that I was there that evening to witness this performance live. I am so glad you posted this for others to understand.
sunkisst219 I was there too! Assuming this is Northampton and they didn’t bring out Mary somewhere else.
I didn't know anyone personally, but I broke into tears that day. I was working at Miami International Airport and one of the customers was walking extremely fast as if he wanted to run to his plane. His brother was one of the 49. Listening to this, reminded me of how he looked at me while he tried to hold his tears. It broke me.
My brother is a teacher. I have caught myself imagining this pain and I can’t bear it.
She literally keeps me alive some days when nothing else helps. I've listened to all of Andreas poems. I love you Andrea.
Rewatching this during pride 2024 and crying … Andrea you make the ground tremble with sorrow and rage …
This just broke me.
I can't stop thinking about how this is the first christmas their loved ones will have without them and I'm weeping.
tears are all i have for this.
praying for peace. you two are beautiful souls in this world
My 2 favourite people in the world!
how can a person feel so much in only 8 minutes?? "watching the music not be music" such an important part and giving me lots of feelings, music is more than music even when it's not music at all ... when Poetry meets Music and they dance together in the heart of the audience ..nothing on earth is sweeter ♥ In darkness when we pick ourselves up and we rise towards the light, that is when we know our strength, praying for the innocent lives taken that night and for the families, friends and others who still are living in the nightmare today... in talking about it or listening to songs/poems/videos such as these it gives a glimmer of hope and peace, which is a diamond of humanity in the dirty ground of injustice and hate.. one day at a time ... love always wins. thank you for sharing this ♥ and for everyone involved.
Just came back to this poem because it's 3 years now & I am still hurting
I was awake when I found out, I was laying in bed across the country scrolling through facebook. It flooded with livestreams of what was happening. In the day time I didn't talk a lot. My parents didn't know at the time I was lgbt so it was another day to them. Maybe a 'oh thats horrible' but nothing added on. Like if we lived in a different state and I was a little older it could have been me and they would have a drastically different opinion. Mourning in silence I think was the worst part, I went to school and no one spoke about it. Not a word, no whispers, just like it didn't happen. I still don't know how to bring it up with my mom. This was very powerful
Bethany Snoww I’m so upset that nobody said a word about it in school. I feel they should have done something like have everyone go to the auditorium and have a moment of silence in remembrance for the lives that were lost. All those people deserve more.
If we remember ww1 and ww2 I dont get why schools dont remember things like this, because it hurts just as much as war and it is in a lot of respects a war in its self
I would die if I got to hug Mary Lambert. 😍😍
I am fortunate enough not to have known anyone personally who was killed that night, but every day where it is the 12th of the month, I think it has been another month gone, all those people gone, all those lives gone, all those families still suffering over the people that are gone. I sit in my room sometimes and realize that The only name Society will remember is the name of the man who killed all those people, and hurt all those lives, and that is awful. So just, thank you for doing something that was about remembering them, remembering the people who were affected, remembering how all of our lives are irrevocably changed from that night forward.
This random gay trans guy on the Internet really appreciates it.
I also did not know anyone personally, but I can say that, at least in Orlando, none of the 49 have been forgotten. I don't even remember the killer's name. Each week, those who passed away are featured on social media--honored individually--and just last week the soccer stadium unveiled 49 rainbow seats in memory of the Pulse victims. There continues to be new artwork and community events to honor what happened in June, and businesses still have "Orlando Strong" on their boards. I am saddened that it seems that the rest of the world has forgotten, but Orlando never will.
Aleksandra I rewatch this poem a lot when I'm having a bad day, and I just saw your reply. Thank you, just thank you. It gave me something to smile about.
So raw and unnerving. Nothing but tears. Keep holding up that mirror.
This hurts my heart. It perfectly captures the way I, and probably the way many others, felt after this terrible event. Thank both of you so much for this beautiful and moving performance.
This is so amazing. Why is this so unknown? Why hasn't this gone viral?
My 2 favorite people!!! This is amazing. Beautiful poem!
I'm crying so hard. When I heard about the shooting I had just turned 11. 11 years old and still I cried. I cried for the lives that we're lost. Cried that there is so much hatred in the world that it has gone to that extent. Cried because I knew I would never be accepted as who I am fully.
I actually got into poetry because of this poem, that was 2 years ago. Since then poetry helped me come out and stay alive, thank you!
watching for the 100th time now. when gunshot becomes the beat of a sing.
This poem will make me cry every single time I listen to it. My heart will forever ache for the lives lost.
Balling my eyes out...
i will never get over this
No words. Beautiful. Amazing. Humbling.
Power of WORDS.....God givin talents.
Thank you for this. And for you. And for breaking your hearts open for us.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
So incredibly moved. What a performance from both, but it's hard to call it "performance" outside of the fact that you were in front of others, it was just so raw and honest. Thank you so much.
held back tears as i listened but broke just before mary started singing again.
Both of these works are beautiful indivually but together, woah! What a masterpiece! ❤💛💚💙💜
Two of my favorite performers
Thank you Andrea and Mary, I love you both!
Here again, 6years later!!!
this just tore my heart out. wow.
You know, it's been a little over a year since this God-awful event, but I find myself watching this video about once a month. It reminds me to be grateful for life and the acceptance I have around me. It reminds me to be loving to all and not let hate consume me - to not let hate reside in me. While the topic is devastating and others may stray from it for that reason, this poem and song duo is truly beautiful.
This never fails to make me cry
Chills the entire time!
you don't know I exist ..bt you're my fav song to cry to
Thank you!
wow. just saw this.
This gives me chills 😍😍😍
Truly amazing talent.
Powerful and Heartbreaking GD 💔😭
❤🧡💛💚💙💜🤎🖤
So beautiful 😭
Heart filled to the brim, every single time.
Sobbing
Omg im sobbing 😭
Man I can't wait until I meet Andrea, they are unapologetically authentic. And their words are so powerful. Andrea keeps me alive most days. They are my pick me up.
Wow💗💗💗
Thank you for this video
So heavy. So important.
"And how they loved. And how they loved..."
"I wore my best friends hoodies as if it was my boyfriends" I cried... Coz I know that I will never get a chance to tell her how much she means and how much I love her! 😭😭😭 and that shit hurts
Happy pride month everyone. Here to remember who we lost.
holy fuck
It's the 2022 Trans Day of Rememberance, and after waking up to the news of the shooting in Colorado, I'm back here again- watching history not be history. My heart is broken. Tired. There's no space for anger yet, but I know there will be. There has to be- I can't think of anything else to hold onto but the need to keep fighting. For my nephews, for my friends, for strangers a world away. But for right now, all I can do is cry.
I'm right there in that space with you.
Four years ago today
Wow way to just obliterate my feel button into a sobbing mess.
I will always remember how lucky I am to be here for all the times I tried to die and all the people who have told me I should. I am proud of being a transgender gay man I hope if you are reading this you know you are special for being alive. ❤️
Listening in 2023, with arms wrapped around myself weeping. “Mommy, I’m going to die.” This week there were two mass shootings here in California. And another slew of people grapple with their slain family.
Listening to this on the trans day of remembrance 21/11/22. When the murder of 5 occurred at club Q Colorado, my heart weeps.
myspace massacre sacramento ac 2018
What was their poem about performing and making a little girl cry and racism? There was a part in it about shackles the size of a first.
no mention of islamofacism... this is truly, a disrespect to the victims of the Orlando Islamic attack. NO mention of how oppressive Islam actually is
Cory Alan Whitehurst how are you seriously so dead inside that your only response it to berate this poet for not using this tragedy as an excuse for more hatred in the world?? are you seriously incapable of basic human compassion?
+Connor Marvin compassion, absolutely. but hiding your head in the sand and saying guns are the problem is just idiotic
I think this poem was about human suffering instead of a gun control debate?
The point of a poem or song, isn't to talk about everything that happened. Rather, it chooses one viewpoint or emotion and blows it up perhaps even out of proportion. She chose to talk about the horror of the event, but specifically the horror of a safe place being broken. A place where 49 people who had been rejected by their families came to find community and acceptance, instead became the place where they were taken from not just their community but the from world. The favorite song they would listen to on repeat to get them through the struggle of being in the closet, betrayed them by hiding the warning sound waves created by the gunshots. Their safe place became their gravestone. That is horrible and deeply troubling. I believe this was her point. She could have talked about how he used Islam as an outlet for his hatred. But she chose not to. She also could have talked what the world would be like with 49 more names in it. But she didn't. You can't talk about everything in one poem or song. Nothing can truly grasp the horror of that day. Even Art has its limit
I think you've missed the point, this was about a homophobic attack on a gay bar and you're blind to what the message is