Season 4 of Orange is the New Black grappled very explicitly with the Black Lives Matter movement. It appeared everywhere, from the black inmate being crushed under an officer’s knee so that she couldn’t breathe, to one inmate calling out that the warden wouldn’t “say her name” in the press conference, to a third (black) inmate pulling up her hood as they prepared to riot.

Of course, that’s what everyone will be talking about: how OITNB dealt with Black Lives Matter, how they tried to flesh out the unalterable consequences of combining a bloated corporation out for its own profits and animalistic, power-hungry prison guards. But that’s not what I want to talk about. I don’t even want to talk about how yet another lesbian TV character got killed off. I want to talk about Orlando.

The show seemed to argue in the last two episodes that events like death by police brutality, while horrific, don’t matter as much as their aftermath– that’s why the season didn’t just end with Poussey’s death. Everyone’s responses to her death, from her friends and the other inmates to the guards and the corporate yuppies, mattered as much as the single event that precipitated them. Terrible things happen in the world; but what marks them as either truly horrifying or moments of exultant humanity is not the events themselves but how we as a society choose to mourn and act on them. We have an ethical responsibility to handle the aftermath of these events with care, consideration, and action. The quote that has been getting me through the last week echoes this sentiment: “Whenever terrible things happen in the news, look for the helpers. There will always be helpers.” The #BlackLivesMatter movement responded to horror with calls for justice and equality. After 9/11, we responded to hate and violence with kindness, coming together to both search and rebuild.

The last frame of the last episode was not the image that is usually shared of the black victim of police brutality; instead of the mugshot or the “gangsta-looking photo,” as Litchfield’s corporate overlords cynically dubbed it, the last image seared into our minds is that of Poussey smiling and free and embarking on her last, most promising adventure. That moment, so delicate, was as much a reaction to the aftermath as anything else that happened in that last episode. It was a defiant insistence that this is how we should remember her, in the moment when she was most herself, not when she was miserable or broken or however corporate PR tried to paint her. They repeated the word “human” and “person” a lot this season, mostly in relation to the inmates. And that’s what this last frame did: it demanded that Poussey remain a person, not a body or a symbol or an argument.

After Orlando, we need both the activist response of Black Lives Matter and the effervescent beauty of that last image of Poussey. We need to campaign against bigotry, wether it’s homophobia or Islamophobia; we need to fight for stricter gun laws; we need to act out against domestic violence. But we also need to appreciate the tender moments of pure humanity, like Titus Burgess singing “Somewhere” outside the Stonewall Inn, a single mournful note drifting out over a gathered crowd, or everyone who was vibrantly exultant, singing and dancing and voguing, at LA Pride.

OITNB meant to serve as a metaphor for the events of 2015; instead I think it became an eerily apt one for those of June 13, 2016. And so I would argue, as the show does, that the aftermath matters. Let’s make sure we write a good one for Orlando.