Pride is one of those things that it is hard for me to find words for. This year more than any other, especially. I've been to NYC Pride (and any Pride march, period) three times in my life: 2011, 2015, and 2016. In 2011 I went with two friends for a couple of hours — it was the year that marriage equality became New York State law — and I loved it but I didn't feel it. Last year I stumbled across the parade semi-accidentally while running errands. This year I went with purpose. My friend Sophie texted me a couple weeks ago and asked if I wanted to come with her. My work planned an afterparty with an open bar. The Orlando shooting happened.

49 of my family, killed in a nightclub.