Kelly Lum, better known in hacking circles as Aloria, passed away on Sunday.
Aloria was a veteran of the cybersecurity community, especially the one in New York, her home for many years. The Twitter account of the New York City security conference SummerCon announced her death on Monday, prompting a seemingly endless list of people to publicly mourn her loss and pay tribute to her life.
People who knew her call her an “angel,” an “incredible woman,” “so prickly and dark and funny, and yet warm and welcoming,” “brilliant, sharp, deeply witty […] a daring adventurer, a kind soul,” “one of the funniest, kindest and most honest people” on Twitter, “unique and memorable,” “a legend […] brilliant, generous, hilarious,” the “the archetypal hacker, both technical and unconventional in the non-technical,” “kind and welcoming,” someone whose “magic was making us all feel seen & appreciated just as we were,” an “inspiration,” “the peak of original content, a real character,” and someone who “truly did change stuff for the better.”
According to the SummerCon official Twitter account, “Kelly did not take her own life, but passed due to progressed critical illness, in a hospitalized setting surrounded by her family.”
Aloria was 41, and she’s survived by her husband.
Some people remember her for her qualities as a person, and for her contributions to hacking culture, more than for her technical abilities, even though she was very knowledgeable and a remarkable cybersecurity professional.
“I feel like Aloria represented what the infosec industry is at its best: performing fantastic feats of problem-solving with playfulness, ingenuity, and authenticity. She was an industry legend and a trailblazer, but I don’t think she ever saw herself that way,” said Kelly Shortridge, who knew her for more than a decade as both she and Aloria were part of the New York City hacking scene. “Unlike most security luminaries, she actually lived her life as to what fulfilled her rather than what inflated her ego. She was generous and the antithesis of a gatekeeper; she welcomed me in the industry when few others did.”
Image Credits: Screenshot / Kelly ‘Aloria’ Lum
Zach Lanier, who knew her for more than a decade, said she was like “a sibling” to him, and one of his best friends. When he and Aloria lived in New York City at the same time in the early 2010s, they would have a tradition of going out with other cybersecurity folks every Thursday, first to a Mexican restaurant in Union Square, where they would order “too many tacos and margaritas,” and then to a karaoke bar.
Aloria loved to sing Separate Ways by Journey. The two would also sing Forgot About Dre, with Aloria singing Dr. Dre’s parts, and Lanier singing Eminem’s parts, Lanier said.
“She would nail it and knock it out of the park every time,” he said.
“You don’t want to go after her because it’s like: ‘Oh, God, how do I follow that up?’ It’s as if your opening act is a professional and you are an amateur,” said another friend of Kelly who works in cybersecurity, who asked not to be named as his company doesn’t allow him to speak to the press.
Her death, Lanier said, is particularly tragic because from his point of view, “she found a semblance of happiness that I had not seen for a while.”
“She was the happiest she’s eve
