White Washing: How The HIV/AIDS Movement Was Co-opted

By Tommy Young-Dennis (Nebraska AIDS Project, Omaha, NE) and Pastor Darryl Brown Junior (Charles Drew Health Center, Omaha, NE)

“Act up! Fight back! Fight AIDS!” was the 1987 chant of people living with HIV/AIDS along with their family members and friends. These chants in Washington streets that were intended to demand more government support by way of expedited approval from the FDA for medications to treat HIV, were an echo of the 1969 LGBTQ+ centered chants made in New York streets.

The chants of 1969 were the result of the resistance of a group of queer patrons at the Stonewall Bar after being invaded by NY police in an effort to shut the gay bar down. Marsha P. Johnson, a transgender Black woman is credited with throwing the first brick at police during the raid which incited a riot. birthed the first gay pride parade along with festivals of celebration within the queer community, traditions upheld to this day.

The history of Gay Pride along with the history of the HIV/AIDS movement is one that finds its rich roots on the backs of Black/Brown queer individuals; however, that has not always been the popular narrative. Stories of these intersecting histories are often told without celebrating Black/ Brown queer leaders for their places in these movements.

In his 2015 movie “Stonewall,” Roland Emmerlich’s depiction of the resistance displayed a white man throwing the first brick. These issues of representation and fact-based story-telling are not isolated to this film. The name Robert Rayford comes to mind. While media images in the late 80s and 90s represented cisgender white men sick in hospital beds during the height of the epidemic, research had already demonstrated that a Black (suspected) gay man from St. Louis, MO was the first case of HIV in the United States.

Robert Rayford died in 1969 at the age of 15 and due to several abnormalities, tissue specimens were kept after his death. His tissue samples were later tested and the cause of death was linked to HIV.

The study on Rayford’s tissue was published in 1988 (after a 1987 test) and was even reported once at an Australian conference in 1999, but the findings were never published in a peer-reviewed medical or scientific journal.

It is stories such as Robert Rayford’s that are often used as a footnote in the history of HIV, not being highlighted as often as stories like Ryan White.

Ryan White was a white teen who contracted HIV at age 13 by way of a blood transfusion in response to his condition of hemophilia. He succumbed to HIV in 1990 at the age of 18.

Various things give great reason to uplift Ryan and Robert’s story. Ryan’s mother fought hard for governmental support for individuals living with HIV and she remains involved in HIV work. Ryan’s story is one of youthful diagnosis and death. Robert’s story matters because it gives racial and cultural representation to Black folks that are living with HIV. Robert’s story matters because he represents a community that is disproportionately affected by HIV.

The reality is that the uplifting of Ryan’s story while leaving out the stories and representation of those most affected is, at best, counterproductive.

In November 1993, HIV became the leading cause of death for African Americans ages 25-44 and the second leading cause of death for African American women in the same age range. It was not until 1998 that the CDC launched a range of new HIV prevention efforts in Black communities.

These instances of inaction, ignoring, and invalidation are directly linked to the limited mobility in these movements.

Liberation must be for all. If we are to champion the change desired for the LGBT community, it is imperative that this movement not be white-washed, leaving the needs of the minority groups within the minority group behind.

Perhaps with intention, perhaps by happenstance, indeed by privilege, Black and Brown communities that gave their blood, sweat, and tears to the intersecting HIV/ AIDS movement and LGBTQ+ movement have not been uplifted, celebrated, and documented in ways that their white counterparts have. This has robbed these communities of representation and progress as relates to HIV/AIDS, as well as progress as a Black and Brown people. Black and Brown people that are grappling with concepts of sexual orientation and gender identity are in need of publicly platformed images they can at least distantly relate to and glean from. Individuals living with HIV and navigating the complexities of dating, sexual encounters, employment applications, insurance applications and community stigma need access to education from people that look like them and can identify with their lived experience.

Providing support for leaders in these communities that are doing the work to provide these needed things is imperative for our privileged brothers and sisters. Making space for Black and Brown queer artists, influencers, faith leaders and educators to have platforms to reach their demographic is impactful in a multitude of ways.

Being as much a part of the movements of Black and Brown communities as said communities are a part of the larger LGBTQ+ movement is the work of liberation. Joining in the celebration of the history of queer people of color is equitable. June is a month where both Juneteenth as well as gay pride is celebrated in communities across the U.S. A world where celebration of those historical moments does not have to be strictly divided for the Black queer individual would be harmony at its finest.