WORLD AIDS DAY, 2021

Here we are again, another World AIDS Day. I could wish there were never a reason for such a day, but that’s nothing but a wasted wish. AIDS happened. It’s still happening. I’m grateful there’s a day that’s been so well established for us to pause and to reflect, not just on our loved ones who died, who became HIV+ or who have been otherwise impacted, but to think with a broader perspective of all that the world has lost and all that still needs to be done.

 

All photos are from posts
for The AIDS Memorial.

I continue to look at the daily postings on the Instagram account for The AIDS Memorial to read remembrances of people who died of AIDS-related causes. I invite you to go there today, to gaze at the faces, to read a few tributes. If you’re too young to remember the most devastating period in the eighties and nineties, five minutes of going through some of the posts will make the loss more real to you. It will stop you from dismissing AIDS as something that happened Before You, like World War I or the fourteenth-century bubonic plague. You will understand, if only just a little, the devastation of AIDS. If you lived through that time, the posts will bring back some of the pain, fear and helplessness, but it’s imperative to remember, to honor and to wonder about all that the world lost in terms of the relationships and contributions of these individuals.

 

Every day, I smile at the photos. Dear souls, some with goofy smiles, some with really big hair, many enjoying a moment at a club or playing with a young niece or just sitting on a living room sofa. We didn’t have cell phones with dozens (hundreds?) of selfies and social media sites for posting every group dinner, each time going to the beach or even every Christmas or Halloween. (Someone may have taken photos on a Nikon or Polaroid camera, but they weren’t so easily shared, if at all.) Often, a post about an uncle, partner, father, aunt, mother, best friend or grandparent includes the comment, “This is my only photo.” It feels more precious and more important that these images are seen.

 

I’ve gotten so accustomed to viewing these posts that I catch my mind twisting and contorting the most basic facts as if to conjure a cup half full from an empty glass. Typically, a birthdate and a date of death are included. I do the quick math and catch myself thinking, “At least he made it to thirty-six.” Pardon my language, but it fits here: How fucked up is that? It comes, I suppose, from having read so many posts about people who never made it to thirty. Imagine being twenty-two, testing positive and knowing that death may come in a matter of months (if it’s the early eighties) or a few years (if it’s the nineties). Hope was there. The fight was there. Time wasn’t. There was no time to question the efficacy of experimental drugs, many of which ravaged the body. People invested in maybe. It was all that was offered. 

 

I’ve met men in recent years who have been HIV+ since the mid-eighties and are healthy, undetectable individuals living full lives. But most people died. Overwhelmingly stacked odds. Imagine making it twenty-four and setting your twenty-fifth birthday as a goalpost. (My buddy Stephen’s target was twenty-nine. He reached it and lived an extra month.) I’m fifty-seven and finding some warped relief or solace in someone living to thirty-six or forty-two or fifty-one is seriously fucked up. 

 

Families lost so much. So many partners lost their lovers, now often referred to as husbands even though marriage wasn’t an option back then. So many friendships were cut short. So many creative contributions will never be seen, so many mentors who never got to share life’s learnings. WE lost so much. 

 

AIDS is by no means over. For many, it can be effectively managed, but care is not uniformly accessible and there are complications regarding regularly taking medication and other health factors. According to the Joint United Nations Programme on HIV and AIDS (UNAIDS), 680,000 people died from AIDS-related illnesses in 2020. (The AIDS epidemic has taken 36.3 million lives since what we consider to be the beginning.)

 

36.3 million individuals.

 

21% of women and 32% of men living with HIV still do not have access to antiretroviral therapy. In 2020, 1.5 million new HIV infections were diagnosed. There is still no cure. There is still no vaccine. There is still more to be done.

 

It’s essential that we continue to support those impacted by HIV and AIDS. It’s critical that we remember the history of AIDS—the discrimination, the neglect, the conscious inaction, the continuing stigma, the magnitude of the loss. By honoring and reflecting on loved ones and people we never knew who died of AIDS, may we keep the cause in our consciousness, may we continue to advocate for and financially fund supports for people living with HIV and AIDS and may we bring back a sense of urgency to finding the cure.