Stanley Almodovar III, 23 years old
Amanda Alvear, 25 years old
Oscar A Aracena-Montero, 26 years old
Rodolfo Ayala-Ayala, 33 years old
Antonio Davon Brown, 29 years old
Darryl Roman Burt II, 29 years old
Angel L. Candelario-Padro, 28 years old
Juan Chevez-Martinez, 25 years old
Luis Daniel Conde, 39 years old
Cory James Connell, 21 years old
Tevin Eugene Crosby, 25 years old
Deonka Deidra Drayton, 32 years old
Simon Adrian Carrillo Fernandez, 31 years old
Leroy Valentin Fernandez, 25 years old
Mercedez Marisol Flores, 26 years old
Peter O. Gonzalez-Cruz, 22 years old
Juan Ramon Guerrero, 22 years old
Paul Terrell Henry, 41 years old
Frank Hernandez, 27 years old
Miguel Angel Honorato, 30 years old
Javier Jorge-Reyes, 40 years old
Jason Benjamin Josaphat, 19 years old
Eddie Jamoldroy Justice, 30 years old
Anthony Luis Laureanodisla, 25 years old
Christopher Andrew Leinonen, 32 years old
Alejandro Barrios Martinez, 21 years old
Brenda Lee Marquez McCool, 49 years old
Gilberto Ramon Silva Menendez, 25 years old
Kimberly Morris, 37 years old
Akyra Monet Murray, 18 years old
Luis Omar Ocasio-Capo, 20 years old
Geraldo A. Ortiz-Jimenez, 25 years old
Eric Ivan Ortiz-Rivera, 36 years old
Joel Rayon Paniagua, 32 years old
Jean Carlos Mendez Perez, 35 years old
Enrique L. Rios, Jr., 25 years old
Jean C. Nives Rodriguez, 27 years old
Xavier Emmanuel Serrano Rosado, 35 years old
Christopher Joseph Sanfeliz, 24 years old
Yilmary Rodriguez Solivan, 24 years old
Edward Sotomayor Jr., 34 years old
Shane Evan Tomlinson, 33 years old
Martin Benitez Torres, 33 years old
Jonathan Antonio Camuy Vega, 24 years old
Juan P. Rivera Velazquez, 37 years old
Luis S. Vielma, 22 years old
Franky Jimmy Dejesus Velazquez, 50 years old
Luis Daniel Wilson-Leon, 37 years old
Jerald Arthur Wright, 31 years old
I wake up and learn of the Orlando shooting on Facebook first thing in the morning, though allow myself a few minutes to read positive news before I dive into the latest tragedy. It often goes like that, like a timid child going for their first swim, taking in a big breath of fresh air to prepare for what follows. A few statuses, a scroll through Twitter. The mood shifts when I look more into the story, which ends up hitting home with sympathy unparalleled to any tragedy I've lived through thus far.
I dress slowly. It’s not ideal to panic underwater. I look in the mirror, seeing not myself, but rather how queer others will see me as, from my faux hawk to my beat face to my jeans and sneakers to my crop top. I look past myself and into my future at the moments I could be confronted, harassed, killed. If it proved more challenging to navigate the depths of a swimming pool, why am I diving into the ocean? Do I dress this way because I'm proud of my expression, or is it that I'm taunting my world, knowing I’m inevitably gonna be next on the hit list, and it's just a matter of time?
The Transgender Law Center releases a statement.
We're only out running two errands. We're going to the grocery store and picking up lunch. We’re undecided on what we want for lunch.
7. Jacob Tobia shares their thoughts in a Facebook post.
The victims of Orlando are more than victims. They're whole individuals -- beings who’ve been stripped from their loved ones, their family, their friends, their bodies, their Earth, their passions, their pursuits and an unforgivable amount of time.
It only took one person. It only took one gun. It only took one person and a gun for entire communities to be devastated, for the Earth beneath my feet to rattle me and the universe to our cores, for the sinking of millions of hearts, for the prompted tears of the innocent victims whose foul damages range from bullet wounds to bruised souls, for a great number of queer folks to call in sick to work that subsequent Monday, for my love to pour out for so many people including myself that Sunday, for the senseless internal debating of whether or not my identity is true as if I can simply wish it all away from having to cut so deeply and sting so prominently. It only took one angry, confused person and one military-grade gun.
After some chronic indecisiveness, my mom sees a Subway sign. We decide to go there. I realize my indecisiveness is because I don't feel hungry at all. My mom asks me why that is. It's Orlando. She makes a comment about his affiliation with ISIS. I hate where this is going. I spend 20 minutes exhausting myself expressing how personally impacted I am by the tragedy, how someone like me can’t really be expected to enjoy the ocean right now, the fact that the deadliest mass shooting in recent history is of my community, how they're queer people of color, going off tangent to express how I don't think him being Muslim should have anything to do with it and my conclusion reiterating how I'm more than certain this is the reason why I'm not hungry right now.
And so we go inside. I get a cup of coffee. We go home.
I attend an Orlando vigil the next day, not to say I wasn't scared. I get back from Trans Pride LA on Saturday night, not to say I wasn't visualizing the escape route I'd take if a gunman was to burst in. I finish writing my article the following morning. I take my time to reteach myself that the ocean is overall pretty indifferent, and not without its love, either. I think, I feel, I mourn, I go for a swim.
