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12 pages, Audible Audio
First published March 1, 2022
“i was better last night. of course i was better last night. i was younger, fresher, braver, and had one less day of life clogging my brain but most of all it was last night. time upgrades survival to triumph. so if you can’t go back, what’s the harm in looking back. twelve step programs council ‘look back but don’t stare.’ wonder why? because it’s fucking painful.”
“theatre is a place you should attend for healing, and not healthcare.”
“we knew it was a virus, but it felt like a judgement. ronald regan, our first ‘make-believe’ president, was told there was no treatment to cure, or vaccine on the horizon. taking AIDS on meant getting involved in a losing campaign issue. and since it only affected the gay male, and drug using populations, there was no political damage to ignoring the disease completely. even with his personal friends succumbing, regan didn’t speak the word AIDS publicly for five years. he taught us a reality that had always been staring us in the face: a politician’s first priority is to get re-elected, second is to fundraise, third is to protect his party. caring about a disease that is killing a small, unpopular minority ranks somewhere below hosting icelandic dignitaries at the white house. it’s one thing to say there is no cure, quite another to say there is no hope. we promised one another ‘we’re going to be okay,’ while we screamed to the world, ‘can’t you see we’re dying?’. we stared at one another with suspicion. we studied one another for signs of disease. makeup disguises just so many sores. walking with a cane is stylish, only if you don’t need one. lust dressed in deaths mantled. we wanted and we feared. some dove headfirst back into the closet. others were outed by the disease itself. the casual mention of a doctors appointment became an admission of guilt. community leaders emerged with the formation of grassroot organizations, but with goals so desperate these warriors struggled to stay focused, care for the sick, prevent the spread, raise money for research, educate the public, awaken the government, inform the press, demand healthcare, engage drug companies. our dead lay on gurneys in hospital storerooms. many funeral homes would not handle AIDS patients. houses of worship withheld burial rights. cemetery’s blocked access to graves. parents disowned their children and refused to accept their remains. others scavenged the bedroom drawers of the dead for valuables, while shunning the surviving partners, denying them any rights, respect or recognition. there was an entire room at bailey house, an AIDS residence, filled floor to ceiling, with pornographic magazines and VHS tapes that families donated from their deceased abodes. employers fired gays at will. homecare agencies and nurses hid behind religious dogma to reject patients. discrimination was given the all-loving god stamp of approval and courts of law backed them up. dentists shoved dental dams in our mouths and covered our faces with plastic wrap like hazardous waste before they touched us. they banned us from donating blood. not only banned, but outlawed. they criminalized gay men who gave blood, a disgrace that continues to this day. thankfully our lesbian sisters stepped in to fill that void. blessed be our lesbian sisters. we were unclean, un-kosher, unacceptable, subhuman, diseased. thank you for reminding us. within our community, so many heroes were doing so much good work. i shy from naming the dozens who quickly come to mind because i’ll leave off hundreds more who deserve to be lauded. surely, you’ve heard of some, but most like the masked nurses who held the hands of our friends as they struggled for air or took their last breaths will remain unnamed. but are no less heroic.”
“i’m sad to admit for all the good uncovered during those years, i’ve never been able to shake the feeling that the heterosexual community at large let us die. they wished us well, then turned their backs issuing sighs of relief that they had nothing to worry about. i buried the ashes of three friends in my backyard. i suppose a piece of me is out there as well.”