As Deanna Marcin poured beer from the behind the counter of Backstreet Cafe, she reflected that the terrorist attack at a nightclub in Orlando, Florida, was a reminder that the fight against hate never ends.
Backstreet Cafe on Salem Avenue in Roanoke is familiar, in a way, with what happened at Pulse nightclub, when a gunman killed 49 and wounded 53 in the worst mass shooting in U.S. history. On Sept. 22, 2000, Backstreet, a gay bar at the time, experienced its own shooting, when Ronald Edward Gay, who loathed his name, walked into the bar, ordered a beer and opened fire. He killed 43-year-old Danny Overstreet and injured six others.
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“While I’d like to remove that dark cloud over the bar, we can’t forget it, and we have to honor those affected by what happened,” said Marcin, who has been Backstreet’s manager for a dozen years.
The shooting in Orlando has brought back a rush of feelings to the LGBT community in Roanoke, some of whom are still suffering from memories of the rampage at Backstreet at a time when many people were still closeted.
Sue Stroud was at Backstreet at the time of the shooting. She remembers the fire coming out of the muzzle, ducking, bullets whizzing over her head, and watching people she knew drop to the ground.
“What happened in Orlando, I feel violated all over again, for someone to violate that safe space so tremendously,” she said.
Marcin said it’s a tragedy that another shooting at a gay establishment has happened on a larger scale, and she’s working to put together a benefit show at Backstreet for the victims’ families.
Gay bars historically have been safe spaces for people to go and be themselves and be accepted for who they are. The Pulse club in Orlando, like Backstreet Cafe years before, is coming to terms with the reality of how someone can violate that sense of security.
“Safe space is only good for people looking for safe space,” said Rodger Saunders, board chairman of the Roanoke Diversity Center. “It doesn’t keep out evil.”
Safe havens are not just at bars and clubs, either. Saunders said that when a transgender support group meets at the Metropolitan Community Church of the Blue Ridge, he locks the doors. But in an effort to not exclude any late-comers, the church is considering installing a camera security system to observe who is outside trying to get in.
In the basement of the Metropolitan Community Church is the Roanoke Diversity Center, which opened in 2013 as a place to empower and educate the LGBT community.
The center is Nick Dinkel’s safe space.
“RDC is my safe zone, as I feel it’s my home away from home,” he told a packed church Tuesday evening.
The church, a foundation of Roanoke’s LGBT community, hosted a prayer service to honor the victims of the Orlando attack. The nearly two-hour service sent messages of love and encouraged people to not be afraid to be who they are.
Pastor Kathy Carpenter said the attack joins a long list of violence against the LGBT community. She asked that those who were at Backstreet at the time of the shooting or knew someone injured to raise their hands, and about 20 people put up their arms.
Gay pleaded guilty to the shooting and was sentenced to four life sentences at the Marion Correctional Center.
The shooting galvanized the city’s LGBT community, and thrust anti-gay bigotry into the public eye. Change also came to Backstreet Cafe, which has since gravitated away from being known as a gay bar. The inside remains mostly the same. It’s dark, with a pool table in the back, a few stools and tables scattered around. Marcin, who is transgender, said everyone there is accepted for who they are.
“At Backstreet, you can be whoever you want to be without prejudice,” she said.
Roanoke’s only gay nightclub is The Park, just a few blocks away from Backstreet. Roanoke Pride President Jason Gilmore remembers his early days of going to the club.
“A friend said to me, ‘I just want you to always remember that what you find in the confines of these walls is not reality,’ ” Gilmore said. “And what he meant was: You will find a safe haven here that you will not necessarily find in the real world and all places.”
Saunders can recall when he used to go to The Park and how it was a night out to look forward to, but it was also scary, because you didn’t know if someone who hated gay people was outside the club intending to harm clubgoers.
Things have improved for the LGBT community, but the Orlando shooting is among other indicators there is still a lot of work to do to combat hatred, Gilmore said.
“No matter how much society shifts, we’re still dealing with acceptance with families and smaller communities, and The Park is a place to go for people so they don’t have to be alone,” Gilmore said.
The Park won’t respond with fear to the shooting in Orlando, Gilmore said: It will respond with strength, because now, more than ever, it’s important for people to go to a place where they are loved for who they are.
The Park had already amped up security after the attack on a nightclub in Paris last year. The club is in the process of adding additional security measures, he said, and those who make disparaging remarks are already not permitted to enter or remain inside the building.
“We’re going to do whatever it takes to keep this place open and safe for future decades,” Gilmore said.
Stroud, a Backstreet shooting survivor, said she doesn’t know how to ensure LGBT venues are safe from outside hatred. But she does know one thing: What Gay did at Backstreet and what the shooter did in Orlando will not send her into hiding.
