Ten Years After Pulse
Remembering the 49 lives lost, and the sanctuary they will always represent.
Ten years ago, in the early morning hours of June 12, 2016, the music stopped.
It was Latin Night at Pulse nightclub in Orlando. Nearly 300 people had gathered to dance, to laugh, to be held by a community that loved them. Most were young. Most were Black and Brown. All of them were free in that room in a way the world outside did not always allow. By the time the night ended, 49 of them were gone, and 53 more were wounded. It remains one of the deadliest mass shootings in American history, and it struck at the very heart of who we are.
A decade later, we say their names. We hold their memory in the light. And we refuse to let them be forgotten.
Pulse was sanctuary
For so many in Central Florida’s LGBTQ+ community, Pulse was never just a club. It was home. It was the place where you could walk in as your whole self and be met with joy instead of judgment — where chosen family gathered, where the dance floor was a kind of church, where Black and Brown queer and trans people could exist without apology.
That is what was taken that night. Not only 49 irreplaceable lives, but a sanctuary, a sense of safety that our communities have always had to build for ourselves, brick by brick, against the odds.
The grief of Pulse belongs in a particular way to us. The people lost that night looked like our family because they were our family — Black, Latino, Puerto Rican, queer, trans, beloved. Their loss is a wound our community carries still.
What ten years has taught us
The decade since has been one of mourning and of building. This past spring, the Pulse building itself was demolished to make way for a permanent memorial, one designed to preserve the dance floor and hold space for reflection, healing, and remembrance. The site was named a national memorial in 2021. The permanent memorial is expected to open in 2027 — a place where future generations can come to understand what was lost, and who.
But a memorial in stone is not the only way we honor the 49. We honor them in how we live.
We honor them every time we protect a queer or trans space and insist it remain a place of safety. We honor them every time we refuse to let fear keep us from gathering. We honor them when we tell the truth about a decade in which our joy was attacked, and our communities answered not with silence, but with each other.
Ten years on, the work of liberation is unfinished. LGBTQ+ rights — and the rights of transgender and gender-diverse people especially — face pressure from every direction. The lesson of Pulse is not only how much we have lost, but how much we still have to protect, and how fiercely we are willing to protect it.
Rooted in struggle, rising in liberation
As Atlanta Black Pride marks our 30th anniversary this year, we carry the 49 with us. Our theme — Rooted in Struggle, Rising in Liberation — was never an abstraction. It is the lived truth of a community that has always made beauty and safety out of hostile ground, and has always risen.
The 49 rose every time they walked onto that dance floor as their full selves. We rise now by keeping their memory alive, by building spaces worthy of them, and by carrying their light forward into the next 30 years and beyond.
We remember the 49
Known as the 49 Angels, they ranged in age from 18 to 50. We name each one.
Stanley Almodovar III, 23 · Amanda Alvear, 25 · Oscar A. Aracena-Montero, 26 · Rodolfo Ayala-Ayala, 33 · Alejandro Barrios Martinez, 21 · Martin Benitez Torres, 33 · Antonio Davon Brown, 29 · Darryl Roman Burt II, 29 · Jonathan Antonio Camuy Vega, 24 · Angel L. Candelario-Padro, 28 · Simon Adrian Carrillo Fernandez, 31 · Juan Chevez-Martinez, 25 · Luis Daniel Conde, 39 · Cory James Connell, 21 · Tevin Eugene Crosby, 25 · Franky Jimmy Dejesus Velazquez, 50 · Deonka Deidra Drayton, 32 · Mercedez Marisol Flores, 26 · Peter O. Gonzalez-Cruz, 22 · Juan Ramon Guerrero, 22 · Paul Terrell Henry, 41 · Frank Hernandez, 27 · Miguel Angel Honorato, 30 · Javier Jorge-Reyes, 40 · Jason Benjamin Josaphat, 19 · Eddie Jamoldroy Justice, 30 · Anthony Luis Laureano Disla, 25 · Christopher Andrew Leinonen, 32 · Brenda Lee Marquez McCool, 49 · Jean Carlos Mendez Perez, 35 · Kimberly Morris, 37 · Akyra Monet Murray, 18 · Jean C. Nieves Rodriguez, 27 · Luis Omar Ocasio-Capo, 20 · Geraldo A. Ortiz-Jimenez, 25 · Eric Ivan Ortiz-Rivera, 36 · Joel Rayon Paniagua, 32 · Enrique L. Rios Jr., 25 · Juan P. Rivera Velazquez, 37 · Yilmary Rodriguez Solivan, 24 · Christopher Joseph Sanfeliz, 24 · Xavier Emmanuel Serrano Rosado, 35 · Gilberto Ramon Silva Menendez, 25 · Edward Sotomayor Jr., 34 · Shane Evan Tomlinson, 33 · Leroy Valentin Fernandez, 25 · Luis S. Vielma, 22 · Luis Daniel Wilson-Leon, 37 · Jerald Arthur Wright, 31
Each one was someone’s child, sibling, friend, and love. Each one is remembered.
Say their names
Tonight, light a candle. Speak the names of the 49. Hold their families and the survivors in your heart. And if you are able, dance — for the joy they knew, for the sanctuary they deserved, and for those who cannot dance with us.
We remember Pulse. We remember the 49.
We will dance again. 💛
Atlanta Black Pride serves and celebrates our BIPOC and BIPOC LGBTQ+ communities. As we honor 30 years of advocacy in 2026 — Rooted in Struggle, Rising in Liberation — we remain committed to building a world where our people can gather in joy, in safety, and in full freedom.
#ABP30 · #WeRememberPulse · #SayTheirName