"I was at a bar in Tampa last month, and a balloon popped," says "Marco," a 34-year-old survivor who asked to use a pseudonym. "I hit the floor. Twenty other people hit the floor. We looked at each other, and we all knew. We were reliving Pulse in a parking lot two hours away."
Furthermore, 2019 saw the resurgence of the "Latinx" identity in the discourse. While early media coverage focused on the "gay club," many overlooked that the club was hosting Latin Night —meaning the majority of the victims were queer Puerto Ricans and other Latin Americans. In 2019, community organizers began explicitly correcting the record, holding vigils in Spanish and pushing for intersectional gun reform. Perhaps the most haunting statistic to emerge from 2019 was the echo effect. According to a study published by the American Journal of Public Health that year, survivors of the Pulse shooting experienced PTSD at rates similar to combat veterans. But more alarmingly, researchers found that the shooting had a "contagion effect" on the mental health of LGBTQ+ people across the state. pulse 2019
But in 2019, the fences remained, but the purpose had shifted. The onePULSE Foundation had purchased the property earlier that year for $2.45 million, officially severing the site from its commercial past. In June 2019, on the third anniversary, the foundation unveiled the final design concepts for a permanent memorial and museum, designed by the renowned firm MASS Design Group. "I was at a bar in Tampa last