Residents of the Las Vegas valley are generally known for their apathy, political or otherwise, and especially within the LGBT community. But you’d have to care pretty deeply to march a mile and a half in 111-degree heat.
Though attendance estimates vary from 1,500 (via Metro) to 6,000, thousands nonetheless walked from the Fashion Show mall to the Cosmopolitan Monday evening in solidarity for those affected by the June 12 mass shooting at Pulse nightclub in Orlando. Let that sink in: thousands descending onto the Strip not for a spectacle, but for their fellow human beings—certainly significant for a so-called apathetic population, and likely the largest gay-related march or demonstration in the state’s history, according to Dennis McBride, director and curator of photography at Nevada State Museum and local LGBT historian.
“The crowd was not all gay and Latino—it was everybody,” he says. “Everyone feels a connection [to the Orlando shooting] in some way. It has a deeper resonance than similar events.”
The gathering, billed as We Stand With Orlando, represented community in every sense of the word. It began with three organizers who posted a Facebook event page on Friday, which garnered more than 2,500 RSVPs in three days. Strip casinos got involved by using their large LED screens to display rainbow-colored sentiments of alliance and give out free bottled water to marchers passing by—all under the protective but friendly watch of a considerable Metro patrol. One community, linking itself to another some 2,300 miles away, one with whom Las Vegas clearly feels a brotherhood.
After all, Las Vegas and Orlando are the two U.S. metropolitan areas most known for their tourism industry, and both cities’ LGBT populations boast a large percentage of Latinos—the demographic predominantly affected by the June 12 shooting rampage. Not for nothing has the refrain “that could have been us” been uttered repeatedly among gay circles over the past nine days. It helps explain the march’s large showing, the overflowing crowd at a June 13 vigil and call-to-action event at the Gay and Lesbian Community Center of Southern Nevada, and the numerous memorials and benefits held or planned for the Orlando victims and their families. The result has been a newfound unity among LGBT residents, now stirred into engagement, its large participatory numbers having augmented their visibility.
The reactions from those outside of it would seem supportive. During the march, a large group of Asian tourists strolled from the Venetian to the Mirage. Upon seeing the colorful, sign-hoisting throng, it returned to the sidewalk and joined the march, all smiles, waving their own flags and, yes, taking countless pictures of us. Furthermore, numerous drivers-by—their cars boasting license plates from both Nevada and nearby states—cheered on and beeped their horns at the same crowds on the Strip’s western sidewalks. (Protesters, a regular presence at the annual Pride parade, were rumored to appear but never materialized.)
Daniel Gomez and Hope Rodriguez, a heterosexual couple from Vegas wearing rainbow-patterned bandanas and hair adornments, respectively, joined the march not only to lend support, but send a message to our many visitors that locals care about what’s happening outside our city. “We know just walking down the street isn’t going to do much,” Gomez says. “But it’s good for the tourists to see us doing something … it leaves a good impression for the people of Orlando and worldwide.”
For Las Vegas native Kobee Acosta, the impression to be made was one of assurance. “The march sends an important message,” he says. “The U.S. legalized gay marriage last year. I don’t want people to feel like they have to live in fear because something bad happened.”
The event’s participants looked anything but fearful, nor did they appear somber. Despite the primary impetus for their involvement—some held lit candles in remembrance of those murdered in Orlando at the end of the march—the marchers aimed to help organizers carry out their goal of a peaceful, positive and non-political demonstration. Festivity even crept into the two-hour walk, from random bursts of whooping and whistling, to the sounds of Diana Ross’ “I’m Coming Out” cranking out of the Bellagio lake’s PA system.
Many of those walking wore shirts and carried signs containing messages that lent support for their fallen and injured brothers and sisters, ranging from the humorous (“No, really, stop hating, get a hobby!) to more galvanizing sentiments, such as “One Voice, One Community, One Pulse,” “More Love Less Hate,” and, in multiple instances, “We Are Orlando.”
That latter sign was held aloft by Rachel Spencer and Nicole Jackson, a couple who said they came out and endured the record temperatures because the people in Orlando had endured worse. They also saw the march as an initiation to getting more involved with LGBT causes, like assisting homeless gay youth. “[This is] like a jumping-off point for us as a couple to be more of a part of the community than we have been in the past,” Jackson said.
Indeed, such interconnection seems revelatory for many of the participants of We Stand With Orlando, confirmed by the countless exclamations and photographic examples of community pride still being added to the event’s Facebook page. It would seem the Vegas gay population is now marching to a different beat—the one from its collective heart, fuller than ever.
