Poetry by Harry Hoy

POSITIVELY PINK

Yonce Jones, a Trans Activist from the Bronx, Is Sharing Her Story and Her Signature Style to Inspire and Educate People Living with HIV Everywhere

by Chip Alfred

She calls herself the “Pink Princess.” Actually, Yonce describes that moniker as her alter ego, “sort of like Beyoncé when she’s Sasha Fierce. She’s sassy, classy, hip.” This princess is all decked out in a fiery pink wig, pink makeup and accessories, photographed against a shimmering pink background with her constant canine companion, Skittles, dyed to match! But what I encountered during my conversation with Ms. Jones was more of a softer shade of pink. With every question I asked, this advocate, educator, and brand ambassador responded with grace, empathy, and pure authenticity. After enduring a tough childhood, Jones ultimately emerged empowered with a new sense of purpose and determination. Today, this woman is lifting her voice to address the health disparities that exist for people of color living with HIV and to advocate for social justice for trans women.

Jones was born in New Jersey to a single mom, who was only fourteen at the time and addicted to heroin. “My mother had a severe drug addiction, and she was so young when she had me. When I was six years old, I came home from school one day and she was gone.” That started Jones’ life bouncing between foster care and group homes until turning twenty-one, when she aged out. Around the time she was first placed in the system, Jones says, “I knew that I was different,” but she wasn’t sure what to do about it or who she could talk to. As she got older, Jones tried to start her transition. “I was living in some group homes that didn’t agree with my choices, and they tried to suppress that.” As much as they tried to suppress it, she fought back. “I just wanted to be myself,” she says. She ended up getting a court order to be moved to New York City to a group home for gay adolescents. “There I found liberation to be exactly who I wanted to be.”

When she was seventeen, Jones went to see her pediatrician for what she thought was a severe case of the flu. That’s when she received the news that she was HIV-positive. The first thought that ran through her mind was, “Oh, wow. I’m nearly eighteen years old. I’ll be dead by the age of twenty-five. As time went on, when I hit twenty-five, I was shocked that I was still alive.” She spent time educating herself about HIV and started the process of her transition after moving into a shelter. It was an SRO, a single room occupancy for people with HIV. One day, she noticed Harlem United had set up a table outside the shelter, so she stopped by and asked for more information about the organization. They said, “It’s for people with HIV and a mental health diagnosis. We have a drop-in center. We have continuing education, doctors’ offices, dental care, social workers, case managers.” Jones said to herself, “Oh, I need this.”

Harlem United also served hot meals every day. So, Jones began going there every day. “This was my first time engaging with people that had an HIV diagnosis, especially people who were also comfortable with their diagnosis.” Jones says it was the clients at Harlem United who inspired her to become a peer educator there. She soon landed a scholarship grant from AIDS United and Harlem United to teach classes and facilitate support groups there. The way she pays it forward and inspires others, Jones says, is to give them encouragement. “I let them know I was diagnosed in 2002 and I’m still here today. We can live our lives out just like anybody else into our seventies, eighties, and ninetiess. It just helps to have someone here for them who’s walked down that road

already.”

From peer educator and group leader, Jones has become an in-demand public speaker and a U=U Ambassador who is now creating awareness about Owning HIV: Young Adults & the Fight Ahead, a partnership with Merck, Prevention Access Campaign

and HIV advocates to inspire all of us to own the future of the HIV epidemic. Owning HIV kicked off in 2019 with a first-of-its-kind survey to better understand beliefs and perceptions about HIV among millennials and Gen Z in the U.S. With young adults (eighteen to thirty-four) accounting for the majority of new HIV diagnoses in this country, the campaign seeks to educate and empower young adults with accurate information about HIV. “One of the survey findings that we got back from Owning HIV was that people still think you can get HIV from sharing food or even a hug,” Jones remarks. “That always stands out in my mind because we’re in 2021, and people still don’t know how HIV is actually transmitted.” In the U.S., African American people made up just over 40% of new HIV diagnoses in 2018, making it the most impacted group compared to all other races and ethnicities in the U.S. In the Owning HIV survey, among African-American respondents who were living with HIV, 50% were unable to define what the term “undetectable” even meant.

Once Jones joined the Owning HIV project, she realized she had some work to do herself. “I had been writing articles for Harlem United. That allowed me the freedom to express myself and allow the world to know that, yes, I’m HIV positive. I met with a great team at Owning HIV, and I continued to educate myself and learn more, especially about U=U.” She says the knowledge and the confidence she gained did wonders for her life. “It brought me out of my shell.” When she decided to disclose her status on social media, she did get pushback. “A lot of people were shocked or upset with me.” They questioned her motives for being so open on such a public platform. “You know, I’m not ashamed,” she responded. “I’m not ashamed because I can’t pass it on to anyone, so what is there to be ashamed about? As long as I’m undetectable, I’m okay. So, it gives me liberation to speak freely about what I had believed was a death sentence for so many years of my life.”

As a black trans woman living with HIV, Jones says she has been dealing with stigma her whole life, but she refuses to engage in negativity to combat it. Right now, trans rights are under attack in several states. According to the Human Rights Campaign, 2021 is a record-breaking year for anti-transgender legislation. At press time, three states have passed legislation banning transgender athletes from participating in sports consistent with their gender identities, and dozens more have introduced bills. In April, Arkansas became the first state to pass a law banning gender-affirming treatment for minors. The legislation is the first to pass in a wave of similar bills in eighteen states so far this year.

Jones tells A&U she believes much of this anti-trans backlash comes from a lack of understanding and preconceived notions of what narrow-minded people view as “normal.” Her message to these people is, “Have a heart. Have some compassion.” She would ask them to try to imagine how they would feel if their child came home and told them they were trans or gay. “Don’t dismiss a trans individual just because you don’t understand what trans is. Trans people exist and we have rights just like everyone else. All I can do as a person fighting for change is to continue to be honest and tell my story.”

Yonce Jones is about to tell her story on two new platforms to commemorate New York City Pride and the fortieth anniversary of the first reported AIDS cases. The Come Out Talk Show is a podcast launching on YouTube Jones has been developing for about a year. The Pink Princess and her cast of co-hosts will discuss what coming out means to each of them. “It can speak to so many things: coming out of depression, coming out of poverty, coming out of addiction, coming out of abuse, coming out of low self-esteem,” she explains. The show will feature trans women’s stories, musical performances, prize giveaways, and more. “We are a family that are outspoken, kindhearted, funny, knowledgeable and woke!”

You’ll also be able to see Jones’ story featured in a documentary film for VICE TV about HIV turning forty. Originally, Jones was tapped to travel to Washington, DC, to take part in the filming of a roundtable discussion. After meeting with the production team, the producers were so impressed with her story, the decision was made to send a film crew to New York to shoot an entire segment on Jones’ life and HIV journey. This project will also premier on the last Sunday in June as New York City celebrates Pride.

Before we ended our interview, I asked Jones what advice she would give to a young trans woman who might be going through some of the challenges she faced early on.

“Beautiful young lady, hold on. Don’t give up. Head up, chin high. The future will be bright for you. You’re going to struggle,” she says, proudly offering her worldly wisdom. Then, she has to stop for a moment as she becomes overwhelmed with emotion, holding back her tears. “Many doors will shut in your face because of who you are. But just like that, many doors will open. You will find a community that loves you for exactly who you are. Stay bold, and never, ever allow anyone to put their hand over your mouth. Keep talking, keep shining, and keep living your life fabulously.”

For more information about Owning HIV, visit: www.merck.com/stories/owning-hiv-youngadults-the-fight-ahead/. Follow Yonce PinkPrincess Jones on Facebook at: www.facebook. com/TheComeOutTalkShow.

POETRY

Golden Shovel for Arthur Russell

My cello sits in the corner collecting dust. This could be embarrassing but the fine layer of rosin and mite is invisible from under the sheets where an almost stranger asks how long I’ve played. He hears since the age of four and we move on even though I said fourth grade. I walk him through my senior recital of Grieg and Britten. His nods let on that he might actually know these names. Am I familiar with the music of Arthur Russell? and when I say no, his eyes widen like a waxing moon.

So it has come to this? Another young queer who is unbothered by how the parties dimmed and we had no choice but to walk to make noise for our family on their skinny behalf, to avow that the spirit rises and awaits us on a distant moon.

He wastes no time, scrolls through Spotify insisting that we listen right this instant and before long Arthur’s voice returns from the ether. He is our third. A new bedmate, crooning to us through a smartphone speaker, reminding us how to put one foot in front of the other, to swallow a daily pill. We lie in the generational ravine where his bow strokes now echo and his fingers walk an eternal ebony plank. But that unexpected trumpet! The brassy surprise swaggers on and raises the hair on my thighs. It lilts about the space and my lover pulls me closer, like the tide swelling with the moon.

—Harry Hoy

Harry Hoy is a graduate of Boston College with a background in linguistics and archival work. He currently works as a staffer in his local library system and has poems forthcoming in Barzakh Magazine and 300 Days of Sun.

FOUND

Hank Trout Talks to Curator & Archivist Anthony Cianciolo About Showcasing the Lost Art of Jerome Caja

Transgressive, blasphemous and reverential, humorous and horror-filled, unapologetically raw, sexual, purposely primitive, classically informed, wildly inventive, gruesomely violent, outrageous, overtly political, yet intimate and deeply personal. The art of Jerome Caja will make you laugh, challenge your assumptions about religion, make you cry, and most of all, make you think long and hard about love and sex, death and dying.

Jerome David Caja (pronounced “CHAYA”) was born into a Catholic family of eleven boys on January 20, 1958, in Cleveland, Ohio. He earned a BA at Cleveland State University in 1984; he then moved west and earned an MFA degree at the San Francisco Art Institute in 1986. Jerome became a prominent figure in the burgeoning underground radical queer art scene of the 1980s and ‘90s, featured in solo and group exhibitions as early as 1984. From his arrival in San Francisco until his death from AIDS-related causes in November 1995, Jerome created hundreds of paintings and performance pieces.

“Hundreds of paintings” does not mean “hundreds of canvases.” Jerome’s idea of a canvas was broad and loose. Match boxes, old tin serving trays, metal business card holders, wooden planks, scraps of paper, bottle caps, crumpled cigarette packs and butts, Band-Aids, candy wrappers, tin can lids, even pistachio shells——all of these served as Jerome’s canvases. Although others encouraged Jerome to make larger pieces, he resisted; he wanted the pieces to be intimate, small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. The materials he used to paint were also rather unusual: he used nail polish, glitter, make-up, and eyeliner (staples in any drag queen’s purse), as well as cremated ashes, Wite-Out, and his own HIV-positive blood, more than oils, charcoals, or other more typical materials.

Equally eclectic is Jerome’s use of well-known as well as self-created symbolic imagery. He created an entire cosmology filled with recurring images——of toasters (“the real world”), eggs (“new life”), bowls of fruit (“faggots [Jerome’s term] ascending to Heaven”), Venus (self-portraits), and black birds (death). Jerome was somewhat obsessed with “Lives of the Saints”; his religious iconography includes saints and sinners: Jesus, the Virgin Mary, Saint Lucy, Satan, imps, priests, cherubs, Bozo and other demented clowns, cannibalistic birds, pigs, and gay icons. And his images often reference Old Masters, Ingres and Goya prominent among them.

“FOUND: The Lost Art of Jerome Caja” is a “jewel box exhibition” of paintings, sculptures, photos, and reliquaries rarely seen since Jerome’s death in 1995. These “Little Lovelies” (Jerome’s term) are cozily nestled inside a free-standing alcove in the main Anglim/Trimble Gallery in San Francisco. The exhibition was curated by Anthony Cianciolo, the founding director of The Jerome Project and a fellow Ohioan. The Jerome Project is a non-profit organization that aims to bring recognition to Jerome as an important twentieth-century American artist, not just a controversial, marginalized, queer artist of the 1990s “AIDS, Art, and Activism” era in San Francisco.

“I met Jerome in 1990 at Club Uranus,” Mr. Cianciolo told A&U. “He was go-go dancing on top of the bar, or should I say flailing about like a tornado of trash. I could not take my eyes off of his skinny frame. He did not care about what people thought and he did not fit in or adhere to the mainstream gay scene at that time. Jerome was a welcome freak of nature. He radiated radical individualism and creativity. He was an odd bird and a beacon of light at a time when my queer community was at its lowest. Jerome’s public drag performances and antics made me laugh at a time when I had little to laugh about.

“It was his drag that drew me in, and it was not until many years later that I realized his brilliance as a master American painter. After his death in 1995 from complications related to HIV/AIDS, his star faded like so much of the countercultural art scene in San Francisco. It was the beginning of the dot.com era and artists, like me, were fleeing the city in droves. I began to curate exhibitions to reintroduce him back into the contemporary art Charles Devouring narrative, to make sure that younger Himself (Portrait of queers know this man’s brilliance.” Charles Sexton, after

I recently had the privilege of Goya), 1985–95, glita private viewing of the exhibition ter, crematory ashes, guided by Cianciolo and Michael nail polish, enamel Johnstone [A&U, March 2017], on aluminum tray Jerome’s friend and sometime collaborator. Cianciolo began by explaining that the exhibition is “found” because many of the pieces have been scrounged, acquired for the exhibit from private collectors and friends of Jerome.

The first thing you see as you approach the alcove containing Jerome’s art is a foot-tall statue of The Virgin Bozo, the Virgin Mary with the face of Bozo the Clown. The image is shocking, intentionally blasphemous and disrespectful, and very funny——the perfect representation of Jerome’s disdain for his Catholic upbringing and the Church’s moralizing about AIDS. It is the largest piece in the exhibition but hardly the most shocking. Shroud of Curad is a portrait of Christ painted on the skin side of a Band-Aid, using a mixture of his own HIV-positive blood and eyeliner. Jerome used these “shroud” paintings as

Hey Honey 1983, black & white photographs, Anna van der Meulen, 11 by 16 inches each part of a skag-drag “Passion of Christ” performance piece over Easter weekend in 1988 at Club Uranus; at the end of the performance, he ripped the BandAids off his “stigmata” and hurled them into the crowd. Jerome’s anti-religion attitude is also there in his paintings of demonic nuns and vulgar saints.

Another piece features a rough nail-polish portrait of Christ on the cross, his arms spread wide; it’s called, I Love You This Much. Another recurring image in Jerome’s work is fellow artist Charles

Sexton. Sexton and Caja attended the San Francisco Art Institute together and became friends. Since both artists were living with HIV, they entered into a pact: whoever was the “Loser in Life” had to bequeath his ashes to the survivor to be used for art. Charles died first, in 1992. Jerome then spent two years mixing nail polish with Charles’ ashes and created a large body of artwork. Jerome gave many of these pieces to Charles’ family and friends as personal reliquaries. One such piece is Charles Devouring Himself. After mixing nail polish and resin with some of Sexton’s cremated ashes, Jerome painted a portrait of Sexton

Shroud of Curad, eating a smaller version of himself, feet first, 1985–95, Band-Aid, in the center of a round aluminum tray. The blood, eyeliner on painting, which references Francisco Goya’s a Band-Aid Saturn Devouring His Son, depicts Sexton in a sickly yellow green against a rough black background, eating his own bloody effigy.

It’s a violent, disturbing image, only slightly softened by the wistful look in

Sexton’s eyes. Another piece in the exhibition, Untitled (Charley’s Ashtray), consists of an old round filigreed pewter ashtray containing some of Sexton’s ashes. In the cigarette rest, there is a cigarette butt with a white filter on which Jerome painted a tiny portrait of Sexton. It is a deceptively simple sculpture——an ashtray, ashes, a cigarette butt——but extremely powerful and moving upon closer examination. (A funny story, indicative of Jerome’s offbeat sense of humor. Michael Johnstone told me that he attended a party at Jerome’s apartment one night. Jerome began pointing out pieces of his art to the party goers. “This is The Virgin Bozo, and this is Venus in Cleveland, and THAT——” he said, pointing to the ashtray——“is Charley.”) In many ways, this sculpture is one of the “quintessentially Caja” pieces in the exhibit——the irreverent humor, the use of found objects (the ashtray, the cigarette butt), the somewhat creepy-but-loving use of Sexton’s ashes, the miniature portrait on

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the cigarette filter, and the unflinching look at death are all hallmarks of Jerome’s work.

I wish we could show you some of the more risqué, explicit images on display in this exhibition because they capture Jerome at his most irreverent and playful. One, entitled

Goldilocks, depicts Jerome himself engaged in his favorite sexual fantasy with three bears. As for other pieces, well, with NSFW titles like Bozo F*cks Death, you’ll forgive us for not publishing them.

“Jerome will always be relevant,” said Cianciolo. “He resonates with outsiders and speaks the language of outsider artists, but he is an insider. He was classically trained, went to art school and graduated with an MFA. Jerome [made] powerful art that still challenges the viewer... to confront us about uncomfortable, taboo subjects...provoking and stimulating the viewer to explore their own narrow-mindedness around racism, sexism, and homophobia. Jerome was dismissed, excluded and marginalized in his life. So many of us experience that pain for reasons——the color of our skin, our sexual orientation, gender identity or expression, our class, our immigration status, or our personal beliefs. For these reasons, his art is as relevant today as the day he made it.” Since 2021 marks the fortieth anniversary of the first reports of what became known as HIV/AIDS, this exhibition of Jerome Caja’s artwork takes on extra significance. It reminds us that, during the bleakest years of the pandemic, artists of the AIDS Generation fought back against the government that ignored us and the churches that condemned us. Necessarily resourceful with materials at hand, they created art despite their physical pain and emotional torment. And they did so with righteous anger and, often, macabre humor. Their art, especially Jerome Caja’s, not only speaks to us of suffering and resilience, it speaks for us of our own anguish and fears.

Untitled (Charley’s Ashtray), 1985–95, pewter ashtray, crematory ashes, cigarette but, nail polish

Furthering its mission of preserving Caja’s work, The Jerome Project is looking for personal photos, film clips, paintings, and most of all, stories related to Jerome and his art. If you knew Jerome or if you know of anybody who did, or if you ran in similar circles with him, please share your stories. If you would like to participate in this resurrection of Jerome Caja’s work, please contact Anthony Cianciolo at www.thejeromeproject.com/contact.html.

Anthony Cianciolo wishes to express his gratitude to the Anglim/Trimble Gallery (www.anglimtrimble.com) for the opportunity to mount this exhibition and the GLBT Historical Society (www.glbthistory.org) for allowing him to exhibit (for the first time) the Caja art in their archives. The exhibition, “FOUND: The Lost Art of Jerome Caja,” will run through June 24, 2021, at the Anglim/Trimble Gallery, 1275 Minnesota Street, San Francisco, CA 94107; 415-433-2710.

Hank Trout, Senior Editor, edited Drummer, Malebox, and Folsom magazines in the early 1980s. A long-term survivor of HIV/AIDS (diagnosed in 1989), he is a forty-year resident of San Francisco, where he lives with his husband Rick.

NO A&U’s Bruce Ward talks to Tom Viola About LETTING Three DecadesPlus Leading Broadway Cares/ Equity Fights AIDS , Lockdown Fundraising & UP NOW Looking to the Future Photographed Exclusively for A&U by Stephen Churchill Downes

In late January of this year, when I first interviewed Tom Viola, Executive Director of Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS (BC/EFA), snow was on the ground, President Biden had taken office just a week earlier, and vaccinations had only just started in the U.S.

to receive lifesaving medications, health care, nutritious meals, counseling, and emergency financial assistance. By drawing upon the talents, resources, and generosity of the American theater community, since 1988, BC/EFA has raised more than $300 million for essential services for people with HIV/AIDS and other critical illnesses in all 50 states, Puerto Rico, and Washington DC. But before there was BC/EFA, there was just EFA. Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS began as two separate organizations. Equity Fights AIDS was founded in October 1987 by the What a difference a few months have made. As of May 7, 50% of Americans have received at least one dose of a COVID-19 vaccine, and 41% are fully vaccinated. The country is cautiously beginning to open up again, and——gasp!——plans for the re-launching of live theater is on the horizon. Hope springs eternal. Governor Cuomo has announced that Broadway theaters are eligible to re-open their doors, at 100% capacity, starting on September 14. Almost anyone who regularly attends live theater in this country is familiar with Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS——from their curtain call donation pitches, to events Council of Actors’ Equity Association. Broadway Cares was founded in February 1988 by members of The Producers’ Group. Money raised was awarded to AIDS service organizations nationwide. In May 1992, Equity Fights AIDS and Broadway Cares merged to become Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS. At the 47th TONY Awards in 1993, BC/EFA was awarded a Tony Honors for Excellence in Theatre, and, in 2010, Tom was honored with the same award, at the 64th Tony Awards. Tom is an outspoken advocate for the organization he helped create, but I thought that our readers might be curious to know a bit more about the man behind this monumental organization that benefits so many. I asked him to such as Broadway Bares, Broadway Barks, and the Easter talk about his origins, his personal journey leading up to, Bonnet Competition, to their Initiatives benefiting theater and throughout, his thirty-three-year journey with BC/EFA.artists of all stripes (actors, musicians, technicians and more) with financial and other assistance. Bruce Ward: Tom, I know that many folks, especial-

And leading the way, from the very beginning, in 1987, ly those in the theater world, associate Broadway has been Tom Viola. In fact, it is hard to separate Tom from Cares/Equity Fights AIDS, with your name. But, of BC/EFA. They are synonymous. course, you had a life before the organization. What

When I first spoke with Tom via telephone, on a blus- brought you to New York City? tery winter’s day in January, he was cozily ensconced in his Tom Viola: I moved to New York in 1976, from home in Hudson, New York, just north of the New York City Pittsburgh, where I studied musical theater. I will turn 66 in hustle. With his two dogs, two cats, and two acres of land, July. I came to the city to pursue an acting career, but also to Tom clearly finds peace here - a much-needed respite from be gay, both socially and sexually. It felt liberating during the demands of his job, at which he is still going strong, those first few years, when the party was still going on. after 34 years.

But first, a bit of history: When did you first become aware of AIDS?

BC/EFA is one of the nation’s leading industry-based, Right away. I remember reading the New York Times nonprofit AIDS fundraising and grant-making organi- article, in 1981, about a “rare cancer” in gay men. At zations, helping those in need, from across the country, first, it was easy to push away. I mean, I was young. I

“WE CREATED RESOURCES THAT DIDN’T EXIST BEFORE.

thought that this only affected “partiers” and older gay men.

But that article cast a shadow over life in New York; I felt the difference. The first time it dawned on me was when I was walking up Broadway and a friend walked towards me. Our eyes didn’t meet, but I could tell that he was sick.

Sometime around 1984, I was at brunch with friends, and we were talking about what was happening. But we kept pushing it away from ourselves; it wasn’t our group. But of those eight friends at the table, four are dead, and two, including myself, are HIV-positive.

Were you continuing to work as an actor?

No. In 1981, I started work as an assistant to a literary agent, and then began doing freelance writing. In 1987, I was hired for what was to be an eight-week freelance job at Actors’ Equity.

I’m assuming that didn’t turn out to be eight weeks.

No, what started as a part-time gig writing pamphlets and a staff manual became a full-time job working for Colleen Dewhurst, who was then the President of Actors’ Equity. Equity Fights AIDS was forming at that time, and my life stepped in a different direction.

I can’t emphasize enough how important Colleen was in the founding of EFA, as well as overseeing the beginning of the merger with BC.

How did that merger between Equity Fights AIDS and Broadway Cares come about?

At the same time that EFA was being founded through Actors’ Equity, BC was doing its thing, raising money through The Producers Fund. Rodger McFarlane was heading up that organization. And everyone involved felt that there was too much going on to get into a pissing match. So we worked towards a merger, which became official in 1992.

The next few years were the most exhausting, because we didn’t see an end in sight. [HAART therapy emerged in 1996.]

How did you learn fundraising?

Just by doing it. Everything we do now seems institutionalized, but we started small. We were scrappy. We did bake sales on the sidewalk outside where “Cats” was playing on Broadway.

Our popular annual fundraiser,. Broadway Bares, was started by Jerry Mitchell at the bar, Splash, in 1992. The event raised $8,000. The 2019 edition, at the Hammerstein Ballroom, brought in $2 million. We learned how to do things incrementally. We reflected on what we did well, and what we could do better.

Speaking of events, BC/EFA produces so many enthusiastically popular and diverse annual events. Do you, personally, have a favorite event?

My favorite event is the one that’s just been completed.

Fair enough. How about special moments that stand out for you?

I love doing a moment of silence during The Red Bucket Follies [formerly Gypsy of the Year.] That is the only event during which we do that.

I love the collection of bonnets at the end of the Easter Bonnet Competition.

I love the sexiness of Broadway Bares, and particularly how we are able to appeal to a younger generation, particularly gay men.

I love that with Broadway Barks, held in Schubert Alley, shelter animals are going to be adopted and find their “furrever” homes.

And, of course, with all of them, I love the general feeling of gratitude and good will and love.

BC/EFA started in reaction to the AIDS epidemic. Can you talk a bit about how the organization has evolved over the years? I’m sure that many people may be unfamiliar with the breadth and diversity of organizations and individuals benefitting from the fundraising efforts of BC/EFA.

The organizations’s grant-making has two emphases: The Actors Fund, and the National Grants Program. We now support five major social service programs at The Actors Fund, but it was their Phyllis Newman Health Initiative in 1995 [that helped expand BC/EFA’s mission], and then we began to expand our services to drug treatment and other social service organizations.

We created resources that didn’t exist before. And any money raised helps make funding for HIV/AIDS programs even more possible. We consider BC/EFA to be “the 30

philanthropic heart of Broadway.”

We are also responsive to issues that the Broadway community feels are important to its members. Reacting to events such as Hurricane Katrina, and issues like racial justice, keeps us from being old news or an anachronism, while also maintaining our commitment to [the changing needs] of AIDS services.

Our appeals for donations have never needed to be Public Service Announcements. We work in simplicity. Everyone understands hunger and nutrition. People understand the issues of programs for the elderly, harm reduction, health clinics.

One of our highest profile fundraising superstars has been Hugh Jackman, who became notorious for auctioning off t-shirts he wore in his shows. He began making appeals following performances of The Boy from Oz, and then with each of his subsequent shows. One donor bid $25, 000 dollars to meet Hugh. I could have wept advocacy blood. But because of the star power involved, BC/EFA averaged $30,000 a night!

The list of celebrities who have given of their time and talents is a long one: Chita Rivera, Nathan Lane, Alan Cumming [A&U, January 2004] , Bette Midler, Daniel Craig. But it is also the musician who is willing to sit in the pit without pay for an extra performance, the stage managers, the unions. Celebrities are the shine and gloss. But everyone gives so much.

We cherish and nurture our relationships very carefully. The staff and the volunteers are the unsung heroes. Everything we do is based on relationships, which takes as much emotional intelligence as it does strategic planning.

Tom, in addition to your fierce advocacy work, you have been quite open and honest about your HIV status, as well as your recovery from drug and alcohol use. I know that our readers would appreciate hearing about that side of your life. Could you talk a bit about your relationship to drugs and

alcohol, and how you approached sobriety?

Of course. I began to realize that my drug and alcohol use was gradually becoming more of a problem. I first became sober in 1988. which gave me a ballast to get into the work at EFA.

But in October 1992, I had a relapse. I had hit a wall. A close friend and Colleen both passed away. The last thing I thought I would do was self-medicate, and I should have taken probably a more therapeutic approach.

My relapse from drugs and alcohol also led me to seroconvert. I tested HIV-positive, for the first time, in February 1993. I had tested negative all the years prior to that.

And then my HIV status was mentioned on Page Six of the New York Post. I felt exposed and betrayed and vulnerable. I was going through an incredible process. Frankly, I was fighting for my life. It involved my family; I hadn’t shared my HIV status with them.

That’s a dramatically intrusive way to have your private life revealed. How did you manage through it all?

I must say that the theater community rallied around me. I had messages from friends, strangers, all over the world. All people cared about was that I be well.

But that experience finally propelled me to go to rehab, to Hazelden, in April 1993. And I have been sober since.

Congratulations on that. And how are you doing, health-wise, managing your HIV?

I’ve been fortunate that I haven’t had any real health issues. I didn’t even need meds until 1998. And then, my T cells jumped from 200 to 800, with no viral load. There are times I forget about having HIV. I don’t wake up every morning thinking I’m HIV-positive.

And now, of course, we know about U = U.

Yes. As a matter of fact, we were PAC’s [Prevention Access Campaign] first major funder. U = U is a very important component for folks dealing with their own diagnosis, and for their partners, family members, and friends.

What made you decide to begin sharing the story of your recovery and HIV status?

Interestingly, the Tony award was given to BC/EFA two months after I came home from rehab. And it helped me to realize that I needed to be open about my story. Whether it’s HIV or drugs and alcohol, it is about “us”, not “them.” You can’t do this work without taking care of yourself, or without having empathy.

Michael Jeter”s acceptance speech after winning his Tony [in 1990, for Grand Hotel] saved my life, and others. He sent out the message, “You are not alone. So, the reason I share my personal experiences is to give hope to others.” [For anyone unfamiliar with Jeter’s speech, as well as his unforgettable performance on the 1990 Tony awards ceremony, you can check them both out here: https:// youtu.be/euCvQ4ikZZQ ]

So, let’s fast-forward to last year. When did you first become aware that COVID-19 was going to affect the theater, and, well, everything else?

In the nights leading up to Broadway shutting down [on March 12, 2020], I saw the West Side Story revival, and Girl from the North Country. I remember being hypersensitive to coughing, even clearing my own throat.

Once the New York Times published its story about the spread of COVID-19 among the Moulin Rouge and other companies, it happened fast.

Everything that BC/EFA had been doing stopped. The appeals, everything. All of it was shut down in a weekend.

We pivoted immediately to an online campaign. We had to reinvent everything. We created a COVID-19 emergency assistance fund, dedicated specifically to The Actors Fund. Through our fundraising events, we have now awarded the actors fund over $10 million, and our grants program over $4 million.

That is amazing. And, at the same time, you have created some beautiful and fun virtual events to stave off the theater-going audience’s hunger for live performance.

***

[Since I first interviewed Tom in late January, we had another brief conversation in early May, to catch up on the newest developments.]

Governor Cuomo recently announced that Broadway will re-open on September 14. Is that possible?

Well, there are more than a dozen different unions involved, as well as the logistics of bringing companies together, casting, rehearsals, and, of course, reconfiguring the theaters and bringing audiences back. All with everyone’s safety in mind. It is a huge undertaking.

But it does give millions of theater-goers hope. Are there any upcoming events that we can expect to keep us entertained and donating, while waiting for Broadway to reopen?

We will still be continuing with online campaigns and virtual events. It remains to be seen how real-time events will happen in the fall. We are in a grey period - a little bit of virtual and a little bit of live.

I can announce that our next virtual Virtual Broadway Bares will stream on Sunday, June 20. And it won’t be a “look-back” like last year, because we create new numbers, and perform them outside.

Well, that is certainly something for audiences to be excited about. I have to tell you that the storyline that was created for last year’s ”look-back” had me crying like a baby. And I wasn’t the only one. It was beautifully done. What do you see for your own future with BC/EFA?

Sharing my work with people in this way has saved my life. There have been lots of moments of pride and gratitude. I’ve been doing this for thirty-three years, and I don’t feel I’ve been on a treadmill. The work remains vital and interesting.

I hope we can stay flexible, responsive, and essential. We can still anticipate the immediate future, even though we know we can’t predict it. I’m proud that we have created a legacy, even as our mission changes.

Any final thoughts you’d like to leave our readers?

We all have a personal and community responsibility to get vaccinated. There can be no letting up now. Now is the time to double down on the commitment.

Amen to that. Thank you, Tom.

For more information about the photography of Stephen Churchill Downes, visit: stephenchurchilldownes.com.

For information on U = U, check out: www.preventionaccess.org.

For more information on BC/EFA, and to make a donation, visit: broadwaycares.org.

On June 5, 1981, the Mortality and Morbidity Weekly Report (MMWR) informed us that between October 1980 and May 1981, five young men, all active homosexuals, were diagnosed with and treated for Pneumocystis carinii pneumonia (PCP) at three different hospitals in Los Angeles, California. Two of the young men died. Since PCP in the United States occurs almost exclusively among severely immunosuppressed patients, its occurrence in young, previously healthy gay men was usual. And alarming.

On July 3, 1981, The New York Times reported, “Doctors in New York and California have diagnosed among homosexual men 41 cases of a rare and often rapidly fatal form of cancer”——Kaposi’s sarcoma (KS). As with the MMWR report of PCP, all of the KS patients were active homosexual men. The alarm bells clanged more loudly.

No one could discern why these cancers and opportunistic infections were occurring——and spreading. Because the disease in the U.S. was first detected in gay men, the disease initially was given names that included the word “gay”——“gay cancer,” “Gay-Related Immunodeficiency Disease (GRID).” But by mid-1982, scientists realized the disease was also spreading among other populations, including transgender women, hemophiliacs, intravenous drug users, and straight women. By September of that year, the disease was finally named: AIDS, the slightly less stigmatic “Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome.”

The news reports got even more frightening by the day. Largely due to government inaction, scientific misinformation, bigotry and the stigma attached to HIV/AIDS, the virus continued to impact communities exponentially across the entire planet, a global pandemic that would kill millions of people and deeply affect tens of millions more. We have contended with HIV/AIDS for forty years and have indeed achieved small victories (like HAART and PrEP), reducing the number of HIV transmissions and AIDS-related deaths over the years. However, we still have neither a vaccine nor a cure for HIV/AIDS. The pandemic continues to wreck lives around the planet.

To get a sense of what we’ve lost as a community, as well as how we’ve changed during this forty-year pandemic, A&U approached a handful of HIV/AIDS activists with questions about when they first heard about HIV/AIDS, when they first realized the pandemic would touch them personally, and the moments——good or bad, painful or inspiring——that stand out in their memories from the last forty years. We corresponded with Mark S. King, writer/blogger, My Fabulous Disease; Butch McKay, Director, Positive Living Programs/OASIS Florida; Charles Sanchez, writer/actor, Merce; Charles King, CEO, Housing Works, New York City; Claire Gasamagera, activist, born with HIV; Jay Blotcher, writer/activist, ACT UP; Victoria Noe, author, Fag Hags, Divas, and Moms; Reverend Yolanda Vega, performer and transgender rights/HIV activist; Steven F. Dansky, writer/filmmaker/historian, Gay Liberation Front; and Davina Conner, Positive Women’s Network. * * *

As Steven F. Dansky has pointed out, “1981 demarcates a traumatic imprint in our active universe.” Few of us read the June 5, 1981 MMWR or its report of five cases of PCP among healthy young gay men. Thus, we first learned about the “gay cancer” in the July 3, 1981 article, “Rare Cancer Seen in 41 Homosexuals.”

“I was helping a friend from college paint his Beacon Hill apartment in the summer of 1981,” said Jay Blotcher. “Among the newspapers scattered across his apartment floor was this page from the Times. I remember reading the paint-spattered article in a disconnected way. I was going into my senior year at Syracuse University and, while I self-identified as a gay man, New York City seemed light years away. I had the classic reaction of denial that this news pertained to me.” Denial, as well as anger, also tainted Mark S. King’s first response to the Times article. “The implications seemed too awful to be true. I felt denial, selfishly hoping that whatever it was, it was only happening to ‘other people,’ and I also felt annoyed that something would dare disrupt the new-found gay sexual liberation that my community was enjoying during that time. I was suspicious of anything that might curb that.”

That kind of denial, thinking that this disease was happening only to “other people” also colored Charles King’s response. “I remember reading the first report I saw of this mysterious gay cancer with interest, but little personal concern,” he wrote. “I was in the closet and celibate, both commitments I had made when I became a minister. I had no idea at the time how much the AIDS pandemic would consume my life and shape my world.”

Some of our respondents didn’t internalize the news right away. Davina Conner, for instance, wrote that “I had to be about ten or eleven

years old, and I didn’t understand at that time what was going on. I only remember listening to it a lot on the TV.” She began to put things together in 1991 when she learned of Magic Johnson’s diagnosis, and again in 1995 with the AIDS-related death of rapper Eazy-E. Claire Gasamagera, a native Rwandan born with HIV, did not know her serostatus nor anything about HIV/AIDS for many years. Rev. Yolanda remembers, “I first heard about AIDS in graduate school in Memphis, Tennessee. I was finishing my MA and was planning on moving to NYC in three months. That was 1983. I was scared... but I did move to NYC in the Fall of 1983.” Victoria Noe, who would go on to write so eloquently about the women warriors in the fight against AIDS, said, “I don’t remember hearing about it right away. But by late 1982, I knew enough to realize that it couldn’t only affect gay men. Calling it ‘gay cancer’ never made a lot of sense to me.”

The “gay cancer” appellation caught the attention of Butch McKay also. “Upon seeing the headline at first glance I thought, YES! Proof that gay is not a choice, but genetic since there was a disease that affected only gay men. But reading the articles that followed, I came to realize, ‘gay cancer was a weapon to demonize gay sex. My anger instantly began to outweigh my feelings of rejection. I needed to act.”

No matter how long some of us wrongly assumed that HIV/AIDS was something that happened only to “other people,” eventually each of us came to know that the pandemic would touch our lives, would personally touch us, in devastating, heartbreaking ways. For many of us, that realization came with the first diagnosis or death of someone close to us. For Victoria Noe, that realization came in 1983. “One of my closest friends had a difficult labor and delivery. Her doctor wanted her to have a transfusion. She worked in the lab at that hospital [in St. Louis] and knew the blood supply wasn’t safe. She did wind up getting two transfusions. That was when it hit home for me.”

Butch McKay had a similar realization. “My best friend Tivvis was diagnosed in 1987 with AIDS. I knew then that it was not limited to large metropolitan cities. It had hit home and I was scared. I knew that day I was losing the

Clockwise from top left: Davina Conner (1987 and now); Jay Blotcher (1990); and Charles King (1989). The black and white photos are by Bill Bytsura, part of his initiative, The AIDS Activist Project

love of my life soon and maybe my own life at a later date. I felt it was only a matter of time before I became infected.... I felt pain, deep hurt, and fear. I was lost.” It was the loss of friends that awakened Rev. Yolanda to her susceptibility to acquiring the virus. “When several friends of mine died, I realized that I was definitely at risk. But I was in denial and didn’t want to think about it. I left New York City in 1993 because the situation in the city was overwhelming to me. After I moved to Vermont, I was diagnosed with HIV, and began the process of specific healthcare and HIV meds.”

“The first person I knew who was struck down by AIDS was John Bemus, my boss at the St. Marks Baths,” wrote Jay Blotcher. “He was gone within weeks of being infected. Since this was late 1983, people chalked up his mystery death to hepatitis. It would be several years until another friend was infected.” For Mark S. King, it was a slow-moving realization. “I was frozen in disbelief for a year or so, until AIDS blew my world apart in West Hollywood. Suddenly, it wasn’t something twice-removed, it was my best friend and my roommate and my brother-in-law, all of them dying. Once I tested positive myself in 1985, deaths were common. I snapped out of my paralysis and went to work for the first AIDS agency in Los Angeles. I figured it would be the last job I would ever have.”

For Davina Conner, her realization came “the day I found out that I was diagnosed with HIV in 1997. Not only did it impact my life drastically, it changed my life at the beginning, and I can never forget my reaction. When I think about it, it hits me at the pit of my stomach and cringes me with the fear that I had of death. The stigma that I felt about myself internally was terrible.” His diagnosis with HIV was also the turning point for Charles Sanchez. “My very first professional acting job in New York City in 1988 was in an AIDS education show for kids. I was very naïve. Maybe it was my age or just my luck, but I didn’t have friends dying of AIDS around me. It wasn’t until probably 1992 when a friend first disclosed to me that he had HIV. Even after that, I still felt like HIV and AIDS was ‘over there,’ somehow. It happened to other people. Until 2003, when I was diagnosed with AIDS, and it hit me like a brick in the head.”

For many of us, once we realized that the pandemic would indeed touch us personally, our anger outweighed our fears and led us to activism. As Steven F. Dansky put it, “Rage at an indifferent and callous heteronormative society was channeled into a daring political movement——a model for grassroots organizing.” Jay Blotcher: “I felt I had to do something, so I began raising money in 1985 for GMHC’s AIDS Walk New York. In my desperate mind, I thought that if I could help others, I would

Clockwise from top left: Mark S. King (1985 and now); Claire Gasamagera (now); and Victoria Noe (1990, with Steve Showalter, and now)