Law & Disorder w/ Cat Brooks

Mass shooting at queer club in Colorado – a reflection

We were devastated to learn this weekend about another mass shooting that targeted a queer nightclub, this time in Colorado Springs, at a club called Club Q. Tragically, five people were killed and at least 17 others were wounded by gunfire, while trying to enjoy themselves in one of few designated queer spaces in Colorado Springs, and all on the eve of the Trans Day of Remembrance – an annual observance on November 20th that honors the memory of transgender people whose lives were lost in acts of anti-transgender violence. In a July 2020 interview, one of the co-owners of Club Q said: “The whole idea of this place is to have a safe place – to get a permanent one in the city.” Unfortunately, this mass shooting has violated that community’s ability to have a self-determined space for joy. Queer bars have long-been spaces of joy, but also the target of vicious violence, from the police riot at New York’s Stonewall bar in 1969 to the 2016 shooting at Pulse – an Orlando queer club – to the shooting this weekend at Club Q in Colorado.

This weekend’s attacker, Anderson Lee Aldrich, who is now facing murder and hate crime charges, is the grandson of MAGA-supporting California State Assemblyman Randy Voepel who has vocalized his support of the January 6th insurrection. This is one of those times when the fear-mongering of politicians and everyday conservatives in this country intersect to leave our communities devastated. And this intersection is unfortunately very present here in the Bay Area – we are reminded of the attack by proud boys last June at the San Lorenzo library, against a drag queen story hour, where luckily, no one was physically injured.

From stories inside Club Q, we’ve learned that the shooting was stopped by everyday people – first an army veteran tackled and held the shooter and then a trans woman used her heels to stomp and hold him, saving the lives of many other people there. Immediately after the attack, police cuffed the veteran and held him in the back of a police car while he begged to find out if his wife and daughter, who were at the club with him, were safe. He later found out that his daughter’s boyfriend was one of the people who were killed.

It’s a tragic reminder of something we say often on this show: The police structures don’t prevent violence. We keep us safe.

This episode features a poem from queer abolitionist activist and poet Christopher Soto, called All the Dead Boys Look Like Us, from his book Diaries of a Terrorist. The poem is Soto’s response to the 2016 mass shooting at Orlando’s queer club, called Pulse, where 50 people were killed for trying to experience the joy of self-determined queer space. Our full length interview with him is available as another episode on our podcast.

Follow Christopher Soto on Twitter: https://twitter.com/loma_poetry
Check out Christopher Soto’s website: https://christophersoto-poet.com/
Buy Christopher Soto’s book: https://www.coppercanyonpress.org/books/diaries-of-a-terrorist-by-christopher-soto/

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