[Image: A group of marchers carry flags and signs. Several wear T-shirts reading “Love Has No Borders”.]

Yesterday I returned to the Castro for a march to the Mission in solidarity with the LGBTQ Latinx community, who were the primary victims of the Orlando massacre. After last Sunday’s vigil, many complained that the event was marred by the inclusion of politicians and initial exclusion of Latinx speakers. This community-driven effort was a response to that.

Soon after I arrived at Harvey Milk Plaza, a number of shirtless white men arrived and began dancing, twirling flags, and blowing soap bubbles for an unrelated fundraiser. Though these activities were hardly out of place during Pride Month (or really, at any other time in the Castro), I began to wonder whether I was in the right place. Since becoming more woke about white supremacy, I’ve become increasingly uncomfortable in white-dominated spaces, whether online or off. I know I’m not alone in this discomfort, especially with the continued erasure of queer people of color in mainstream coverage of the shooting.

[Image: Two people smile and pose for a photo, holding signs reading “Unite Here!” and “Love Has No Borders.”]

[Image: A marcher holds a sign reading “End Homophobia Transphobia Sexism Racism It is Killing Us!”]

[Image: People kneel on the sidewalk, writing the names of the Orlando victims on signs. Others hold signs and rainbow flags in the background.]

I was relieved when some brown and black folks showed up carrying signs. Then LGBTQ rights activist and event co-organizer Cleve Jones called into a megaphone for volunteers to help write the names of all 49 murder victims on large sheets of paper. These signs would be carried during our march to Galería de la Raza for the Latinx-led memorial, Pulso del Amor Continúa (The Pulse of Love Continues).

[Image: Marchers carrying signs and flags head down Castro Street, past the Castro Theatre.]

[Image: A marcher holds a sign bearing the name and age of a victim: “Simon Adrian Carillo Fernández 31 years old.” Other marchers hold signs reading “Love Has No Borders.”]

[Image: A person with mirrored sunglasses stands in a crowd, holding a sign reading “Pulso del Amor Continúa.”]

[Image: Ani Rivera and Lito Sandoval speak on stage at Galería de la Raza.]

We marched two miles to Galería de la Raza, where an outdoor stage was set up. The program began with a blessing by Estela Garcia and a drumming performance by Bay Area American Indian Two Spirits. Ani Rivera and Lito Sandoval served as MCs. Speakers included representatives from AGUILAS, the Chicana/Latina Foundation, El/La Para TransLatinas, the Arab Resource and Organizing Center, the Bayard Rustin LGBT Coalition, Community United Against Violence, and Somos Familia, as well as perfomances by Yosimar Reyes, Maria Medina, and Per Sia. ASL interpretation and Spanish-to-English translation were provided.

[Image: Yosimar Reyes performs spoken word.]

[Image: An altar on the edge of a stage contains a number of items atop a colorful blanket. A sign reads “TU ERES MI OTRO YO.” In the background are the feet of Ani Rivera, wearing purple high-heeled shoes and white polka-dot stockings.]

[Image: Maria Medina plays a drum while singing into a microphone.]

[Image: Per Sia performs a drag act on stage.]

[Image: Per Sia dances with Estela Garcia in front of the stage.]

[Image: Seven people on a stage take turns reading the names of the victims.]

At the conclusion of the program, the names of all 49 victims were read, followed by a release of butterflies. A DJ provided music for people to dance to after the formal event.

My full set of photos from the march and memorial is available on Flickr. Please credit me as Pax Ahimsa Gethen if you use any of them, thanks!