Nearly an entire generation of creative intellectuals, artists, performers, savvy businessmen, drag queens, authors, and godlike, bronzed men that ever floated on a warm gay lake on every colorful pool float imaginable, died from AIDS in the late 80s and 90s. My brother, Donnie, was one of these men, a little of each of these things, and definitely beautiful and bronze. He was also a gay rights advocate and AIDS charity fundraiser, and I was blessed to see him perform in drag and push for rights. His boldness, exhaled from his last breath, found life anew inside of me. It took time to find shape and form, but now I am a morph of my brother's bold determination and my own lived experience and understanding of the world and its ills. More, I have the opportunity to do something with this power he gave me.
He died so I could live, not the I that was before, the passive, powerless and naive I, but the I of today, the empowered I of understanding of his death in a greater context of oppression and marginalization of not only the Queer person he was but also of the woman I am. This locus of Sister-to-Queer has given me the heart and desire to understand oppression of the Other, and I am constantly seeking to locate its origin, even within myself, and point of suffering. In our country, my eyes fall not only on women but on various categories of womyn and children. But I digress too far . . .
The diary I wrote yesterday, linked above, prompted touching, informative, and powerful discourse in the replies that focused on religion, the painful impact of AIDS in the U.S., and the failure of the U.S. to fund research in a timely manner, which led to the convenient and expeditious death of more than half a million people, mostly gay men. Many responses apologize for Christianity. One shared behind the scenes genealogy of HAART anti-viral research that has saved so many lives. Another asked that we recognize the organizing that has come out of the Gay Plague (yes, anger here). Yes, a movement was born of the ashes of our friends and relatives. They died for our sins.
Now, let me explain what I mean by "sins." If you understand the word sin to mean not something bad and harmful but life and living to the fullest, we can let go of the negative connotations to find greater meaning and opportunity. Biblically, this word is multifaceted, meaning something shameful but also something ever present, as in Life itself. If no one is free of sin, then everyone has it, and it is the essence of life and living as human beings. What we do with the opportunities we have is the question.
I am a firm believer that rights must be asserted and claimed, and this comes with a power struggle. Those that have always held the power will not hand over their golden Easter egg without very good reason, so anyone who wants it must make a stand. That an entire generation of Queer folk was killed through an act of convenient negligence cost the movement, which began with Stonewall Riots in 1970, nearly 30 years and the historical wisdom of advocacy held by Gay elders. These are great battle losses that should be recognized and recovered as best as possible by the next generation of LGBTQIAA+/- warriors, who arrive on the scene of the battle for human rights unprepared and somewhat naive. See it for what it is.
The fight for marital equality is the latest battle. Some say it will be the last, but I am more cynical. The hatred that killed my brother will outlive a change in laws, and that hatred will push at the law and kindle a backlash that will manifest in new and painful ways. The organization born of the death of the elders will continue to be crucial beyond a SCOTUS reversal of DOMA. As an heiress of the second wave of feminism now looking at systematic attacks on reproductive "rights" to abortion and birth control, I can promise you that to let your guard down will not be a luxury you can not afford. That people have actually died in this war for human rights should serve as a warning as to just how far the opposition will go to squash your party.
This Easter, as we celebrate the latest battle and pray for an outcome that champions human rights, let's not forget the ashes of those who have died to make the latest organization and gains possible. What we're watching is a resurrection of a battle movement that was believed to have died in the AIDS epidemic in the 80s and 90s. If you recognize that organization was the positive outcome of their deaths, then they died for your sins, and you must make every last breath you take meaningful.