#remember pulse

Today, there are people mourning for lost family members, there are people mourning for lost friends, there are people mourning for their partners. 49 people who went into Pulse nightclub on June 12th, 2016 never came out, and over 50 were severely injured. But, it isn’t just the friends and family of those 49 that are mourning their deaths, the whole LGBTQ+ community is right there with them. In a way, every single one of those people were our brothers, our sisters, our children, our family. Our community learned long ago that we need to stay together to stay alive.

Yet, even when we stay together, we are hunted. Hunted by those who don’t believe in our happiness, who don’t think of us as equals. There are some today in our community who are celebrating how far we’ve come, and that’s great. But, we’ll never get anywhere if we don’t remember where we’ve been. 

Thank you, Javier Jorge-Reyes, Joel Rayon Paniagua, Jason Benjamin Josaphat, and Edward Sotomayor Jr., for giving your life in the name of love. 

Thank you, Stanley Almodovar III, Luis Omar Ocasio-Capo, and Juan Ramon Guerrero, for pushing us to move forward. 

Thank you, Eric Ivan Ortiz-Rivera, Cory James Connell, Juan P. Rivera Velazquez, and Peter O. Gonzalez-Cruz for giving us a place to start, even if it was at rock bottom. 

Thank you, Luis Daniel Conde, Shane Evan Tomlinson, Juan Chevez-Martinez, Darryl Roman Burt II, and Luis S. Vielma, for loving this community enough to die for it. 

Thank you, Deonka Deidra Drayton, Alejandro Barrios Martinez, Jerald Arthur Wright, Leroy Valentin Fernandez, and K.J. Morris for being so brave in the face of danger. 

Thank you, Eddie Jamoldroy Justice, Anthony Luis Laureano Disla, Jean Carlos Mendez Perez, and Franky Jimmy Dejesus Velazquez for helping me see that there will always be resistance. 

Thank you, Deonka Deidra Drayton, Alejandro Barrios Martinez, Amanda Alvear, Martin Benitez Torres, and Luis Daniel Wilson-Leon for having pride in who you were. 

Thank you, Mercedez Marisol Flores, Xavier Emmanuel Serrano Rosado, Gilberto Ramon Silva Menendez, and Simon Adrian Carrillo Fernandez. 

Thank you, Oscar A Aracena-Montero, Enrique L. Rios Jr., and Miguel Angel Honorato. 

Thank you, Jerald Arthur Wright, Leroy Valentin Fernandez, Tevin Eugene Crosby, Jonathan Antonio Camuy Vega, Jean C. Nives Rodriguez, Rodolfo Ayala-Ayala, Brenda Lee Marquez McCool, Yilmary Rodriguez Solivan.

Thank you, Christopher “Drew” Leinonen, Angel L. Candelario-Padro, Frank Hernandez Escalante, Paul Terrell Henry, Akyra Monet Murray, Christopher Joseph Sanfeliz, Antonio Davon Brown, Geraldo A. Ortiz-Jimenez. 

I remember that morning a year ago, when I checked my phone, still bleary, under the covers. I remember seeing the news and startling awake all too fast. I remember trying to go about my day, seeing the fresh grief on so many faces - but not all.  I remember slowly hearing about the forty-nine lives we lost, learning their names, reading their stories.

A whole year has passed already. These past few days, I’ve seen their names and photographs, over and over again. Beautiful tributes, calls to action, and memorials. Despite the positive messages and the support, my heart is so heavy. Some days I’m just afraid - for myself, and for so many people I love. 

But this community - our community - is a bright spot of hope for me. All of you inspire me to keep striving, keep working, and keep fighting back against hate and fear.

Remember Pulse in Orlando. Remember that it was Latin night in particular. Remember those dear ones we lost, and keep on striving to support all of us who made it to today. Keep working for equal rights, for safety, for inclusion - in whatever ways, big or small, that you can. Know that you are valued. You are seen. You are loved. 

I went out and had a blast. I went out dancing at a small gay bar in a weird little town just 20 minutes from me with friends. It was a really good time. I danced. I drank. I was with friends, it was great.

Before I went to bed, the last thing I remember seeing was "Hey, where is everyone?" in one of my group chats. In my group chat of friends, there is mainly gay and queer people, with just a few straight people. Some of us live in Tampa, others in St.Pete, and a few in Orlando.

We had canceled our impromptu Orlando trip because of conflicting schedules, which is why I went out with other friends to a place just north of me. No big deal. It happens.

I thought nothing of the text while I slowly falling asleep. A lot of us just chit-chat in the group message. It was probably just chatting and memes. I went to bed.

Just a couple hours later, I wake up to a phone call from a friend in Wisconsin. Groggily I answered, hearing a panicked, "Thank God you answered! Where are you? Are you okay?" I was confused.

"Something happened in Orlando. I was just calling to make sure you were fine. Check Facebook. I have to get my son ready but I love you, I'm glad you're safe."

Once I hung up, I saw about 15 and counting unread texts and my FB messenger was blowing up. I clicked on my messenger with a pit in my stomach, seeing my many unread messages from not just my group chat but from friends from all over. After reading as much as I could in the group chat, someone said there was an active scooter at Pulse.

I instantly puked.

The group chat was mainly trying figure out where everyone was. They were worried a few friends in Orlando were out there in the club. A few others werent answering their phones, and some just assumed it was because of the hour. My other messages consisted of people checking up on me and asking if they heard from So-And-So. I frantically messaged friends and acquaintances to figure out their location.

What was happening inside was still developing. I just needed to make sure my friends were okay.

As the night continued on, more information slowly filled my Facebook feed. I was checking the news, my FB, and my messages every minute. Some friends werent responding. Others were just asleep. Others had to be filled in to join in a storm of worry and sadness.

I was going crazy. At some point I was pacing around my living room, crying and screaming that people werent answering. Phone calls slowly rolled in, checking in on me and then asking if theyve heard from [insert name here]. It was another name on the list.

Eventually, my dear friend Chris called me to which I broke down and drove to him. He and his boyfriend told me to come over. Together, we watched the news and made breakfast, with me apologizing because I had to keep answering people on my phone.

That day felt so long.

I learned that while my friends were safe, a few friends-of-friends were not. Over the next few days, as the body count was finally updated and names were released, we learned the names and faces of the innocent people who had their lives stolen from them because of some soulless, sad loser.

It hit me hard because this happened in a city I visit often. It happened in a city I visit often with friends of the LGBTQ+ community. It happened in a place my friends liked to go to. It happened in a place where a few of my friends who are drag queens got their start.

It happened in a place where people go to express themselves because in the eyes of our government and society, they are condemned freaks. It happened in a place where people felt safe.

It has left a wound in the LGBTQ+ community, echoing out to communities across the globe. The wound was deep, but it is healing, even though the scar is still there.

Stop the divisiveness within the community. We should be coming together to be stronger.

Remember the 49 lost, 53 wounded. Remember Pulse.