Pride, Memory, and Saying Their Names

This Pride Month, I’ve been starting my mornings with a ritual. I read a few stories from The AIDS Memorial—photos and memories of people lost during the AIDS crisis in the 80s and 90s.

It’s hard to read without feeling something deep. These are stories of lives full of love, creativity, friendship, and resistance. And then, gone. So many of them gone so young. It’s hard not to cry. And honestly, I think that’s the point.

The grief is heavy, and it stays with me throughout the day. But honoring that grief feels important.

Because the truth is, I get to live in a very different era. Being LGBTQ+ still isn’t entirely safe, but it is safer. Today, many of us can be out in our communities, access affirming care, build relationships openly, and live with a level of freedom that wasn't possible a few decades ago. HIV is no longer a death sentence. There are treatments, prevention options, and support that simply didn’t exist back then.

I read these stories as a way to remember—and every time, I say the person’s name out loud. It’s a small act of respect. A way to acknowledge their life, their loss, and the people who loved them. And it’s a practice in gratitude for those who came before us and fought for the rights and resources we have now.

Pride is about celebration, yes—but it’s also about honoring history. Grieving the losses. Recognizing the resilience. And carrying forward the legacy of those we’ve lost by living with care, courage, and connection.