Should We #SayTheirNames?

So should we #SayTheirNames? Should we leave it up to families and friends to name their loved ones publicly, if they so choose, instead of making that decision for them? I honestly don't know.
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Content warning: homophobia, transphobia, racism, violence

This week, we watched homophobia, transphobia, and racism lead to its inevitable conclusion: the murders of forty-nine queer and trans people -- most of them queer and trans people of color -- at a gay nightclub, Pulse, in Orlando, Florida. In the aftermath, I watched bigoted politicians like Donald Trump brag about flying flags at half mast, label the massacre a tragedy while simultaneously refusing to vote on a bill that would protect queer people, and ignore the racism involved in the murders while vowing to ban all Muslims from the United States.

But there was something else that bothered me about the reactions of many well-intentioned activist friends: #SayTheirNames.

The hashtag arose from the murders of trans women of color. Its goal is to raise awareness about the media's erasure of genderqueer, racially diverse narratives. Naturally the hashtag again arose after the massacre at Pulse as the names of the victims were released, and I saw dozens of posts listing the names of those killed:

Edward Sotomayor Jr., 34 years old; Stanley Almodovar III, 23 years old; Luis Omar Ocasio, Capo, 20 years old; Juan Ramon Guerrero, 22 years old; Eric Ivan Ortiz-Rivera, 36 years old; Peter O. Gonzalez-Cruz, 22 years old; Luis S. Vielma, 22 years old; Kimberly Morris, 37 years old; Eddie Jamoldroy Justice, 30 years old; Darryl Roman Burt II, 29 years old; Deonka Deidra Drayton, 32 years old; Alejandro Barrios Martinez, 21 years old; Anthony Luis Laureanodisla, 25 years old; Jean Carlos Mendez Perez, 35 years old; Franky Jimmy Dejesus Velazquez, 50 years old; Amanda Alvear, 25 years old; Martin Benitez Torres, 33 years old; Luis Daniel Wilson-Leon, 37 years old; Mercedez Marisol Flores, 26 years old; Xavier Emmanuel Serrano Rosado, 35 years old; Gilberto Ramon Silva Menendez, 25 years old; Simon Adrian Carrillo Fernandez, 31 years old; Oscar A Aracena-Montero, 26 years old; Enrique L. Rios, Jr., 25 years old; Miguel Angel Honorato, 30 years old; Javier Jorge-Reyes, 40 years old; Joel Rayon Paniagua, 32 years old; Jason Benjamin Josaphat, 19 years old; Cory James Connell, 21 years old; Juan P. Rivera Velazquez, 37 years old; Luis Daniel Conde, 39 years old; Shane Evan Tomlinson, 33 years old; Juan Chevez-Martinez, 25 years old; Jerald Arthur Wright, 31 years old; Leroy Valentin Fernandez, 25 years old; Tevin Eugene Crosby, 25 years old; Jonathan; Antonio Camuy Vega, 24 years old; Jean C. Nives Rodriguez, 27 years old; Rodolfo Ayala-Ayala, 33 years old; Brenda Lee Marquez McCool, 49 years old; Yilmary Rodriguez Sulivan, 24 years old; Christopher Andrew Leinonen, 32 years old; Angel L. Candelario-Padro, 28 years old; Frank Hernandez, 27 years old; Paul Terrell Henry, 41 years old; Antonio Davon Brown, 29 years old

But why do I feel a tinge of guilt saying their names?

A post by one of my activist friends, Sam, in the aftermath of the murders caught my attention: "My thoughts are with all the LGBTQ folks who were outed to their families and friends last night by being injured or killed in the shooting."

And Sam's post hit me because I realized then that not only were all the victims from the Pulse shooting outed to their families, but outed to the world. While some murdered in Orlando were public about their sexualities and gender identities, not all of them were, and certainly most weren't public in an international-news-story sense.

One of the sacred things about gay clubs like Pulse is the protection they're supposed to offer for queer and trans people trying to be themselves. In a world that's hostile to queer and trans people, particularly queer and trans people of color, being out simply isn't always possible. After all, being out exposes people to homophobic and transphobic violence. I've been out as lesbian since founding an organization in 2011, and I found myself the victim of a hate crime at Columbia University last year.

As all of us who are queer or trans know, coming out is extremely personal. The backlash in the queer and trans community when people are "outed" by others is normally fierce. But somehow, all bets are off in the aftermath of Orlando, which is ironic because the murders occurred due to the homophobic, transphobic, racist hatred many of those staying in the closet are trying to avoid.

On one hand, I understand the need to recognize people as individuals, as human beings who lost their lives in a horrific hate crime, whose narratives as (predominately) Latinx queer and trans people are being erased by Islamophobic, politically-motivated rhetoric. On the other hand, I question if naming those killed is still a violation of privacy, us hijacking the narratives of those murdered for our own agendas.

So should we #SayTheirNames? Should we leave it up to families and friends to name their loved ones publicly, if they so choose, instead of making that decision for them? I honestly don't know.

We're in uncharted territory, not in terms of mass shootings or even brutal murders in gay clubs, but in the cisgender, heterosexual outrage after a hate crime. But as a queer person, one who chose to out herself and had to live with horrific consequences, I struggle to #SayTheirNames. The intention behind the hashtag is to preserve the humanity of the victims, but I can't help but wonder: maybe, just maybe, is us controlling their representation by outing them stripping them of their humanity even more?

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