The National Center for PTSD estimates that 28 percent of people who have witnessed a mass shooting develop post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and about a third develop acute stress disorder.

Research also suggests that mass shooting survivors may be at greater risk for mental health difficulties compared with people who experience other types of trauma, such as natural disasters.

The American Psychological Association summarized data and suggested treatment approaches last year here. The focus is not just on disorders following trauma. Psychologists are also eager to study other questions about survivor well-being, including how such experiences—particularly at a young age—shape one’s sense of safety and self-efficacy. We have, in other words, no clue yet about the long-term effects of massacres in our schools, churches, synagogues, night clubs, shopping malls and Garlic Festivals. And we have not even begun to look at the long term consequences for those who are not immediate, but related victims, the families, the clergy, the teachers and friends of those killed or maimed.

I found the poem below just as striking, if not more so, than reading the statistics and all they imply.

Ceremonias De La Superviviencia

By Baruch Porras-Hernandez

at the movies    my eye      on the Exit sign
on the aisles    the doorways     the space
between the seat in front of me and my legs
how far could I crawl
before I die?

wednesday   after it happened
I went to a work event at a gay bar     I stood
near the exit when I could   when I couldn’t
I stood near a window   I made sure I could
open and fit through    made sure I could
jump out and land on the roof
of the building next door
just in case
                                     after the event
my coworker was leaving
thought about hugging him     but I don’t
I   waived       asked myself
is this the last time I’m going to see him?

two weeks after the massacre
my partner is getting ready to attend Pride
                 I am   staying home

I watch him pick out his outfit         I sit
quietly on the couch    when he is dressed
he holds me    I hold him a little longer
ask myself
is this the last time I’m going to see him?
he leaves       I feel as if I should go with him
just in case

has I love you      always meant
I would   die   holding you
                              for people    like us?
has I love you
    always tasted like     two boys
    scared to form the word    amor
with their lips      terrified to say things
like       belleza    te quiero
                                        libertad
    would you      die
              holding      me?

when it happens           if it happens
do we run towards the fucker together?
do we die in each other’s arms?

I will be your shield
will you be mine?

I’ve never used my body as a shield
is this what true love is? is this what queer love is?

if our genes    our DNA
truly hold onto memory
then we remember our ancestor’s gay love
remember our ancestor’s queer communion
the ceremony of maricones before us
their trauma    their struggle
and if that is in us    then so is their survival!

to all    the fuckers out there ready to shoot us down
we will survive you          we have survived fires
                we have survived camps
                             we have survived plagues and

                             we will survive you

I’m sitting at work     everyone
has moved on to the next tragedy
Nice    Quetta    Baghdad    Istanbul

my eyes focus on the exit sign
then the door        the front lobby
                  then back to the exit sign
                            the door

the space between my cubicle
and the door

              the exit sign
                    the door.

Or this short clip on Grieving in a fishbowl.

*

Hope comes from the strength demonstrated by individual survivors: just look at how the young people of the Parkland murders are present in public debate and refuse to be cowed in face of personal attacks and the relentless re-triggering of the trauma with each new attack. Then there are the parents of Joaquin Oliver, one of the Parkland victims, being in El Paso to unveil a memorial at the day of the terrorist act. Manuel Oliver has worked on almost 20 public murals – walls of demand – since the shooting, trying to raise consciousness. I stand in awe.

https://articles.aplus.com/a/manuel-oliver-walls-of-demand-parkland-one-year-later?no_monetization=true

Photographs today are from Texas, during a road trip 6 years ago.

Music today is a clip of Yo Yo Ma playing Bach at a TexMex Bordercrossing and then, to soothe our heavy souls, the entire six suites.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nu9MDqGhIak

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