FEATURE
Sickness Health
In and in
The AIDS crisis and the forging of a community By
Mark Krone and Dave White on behalf of The History Project with photographs courtesy of The History Project (www.historyproject.org)
“I just heard the Statue of Liberty has AIDS. Nobody knows if she got it from the mouth of the Hudson or the Staten Island Ferry.” –comedian Bob Hope
The First Decade
This is a story about tragedy, injustice, and triumph. But most of all, it is a story about solidarity.
New York Harbor, July 4, 1986. An estimated six million spectators thronged New York Harbor to witness the reopening of the renovated Statue of Liberty exactly 100 years after it was bestowed on America by the people of France. ABC News paid 10 million dollars for TV rights to the four-day “Liberty Weekend,” produced by David Wolper, who had staged the flamboyant Los Angeles Olympics two years before. More than 30,000 sea vessels sailed, motored, and paddled as close to the proceedings as possible. The dais glittered with stars like Elizabeth Taylor, Frank Sinatra, and Billie Jean King. At the opening ceremonies, French President Francois Mitterand and his wife Danielle sat next to President Ronald and Nancy Reagan. Bob Hope, the venerable comedian of the establishment, strode to the microphone and delivered a line remembered to this day. When he did, the Mitterands looked stricken. Ronald and Nancy Reagan reportedly laughed. By that summer night, at least 15,000 Americans had died of AIDS. This is a story about an epidemic. This is a story about how the first queer generation in history to enjoy sexual liberation was struck by a new and horrible disease that made them pariahs in their own communities. At first, it struck gay men but it quickly spread to sex workers, IV drug users, and people who had sex with them. Solidarity, this year’s Pride celebration theme, may not be the first word you think of when describing our community. After all, we’re many orientations and expressions. We are from every race, every class, and all religions or none. We hold all political views and are apolitical. And since we’re everywhere, we’re from everywhere. For almost all of human history, we were not allowed to gather together in public to celebrate, to dance, or to touch each other. For all of these reasons, no one believed that when the chips were down – really down – we would come together as one community. But that is what happened at the height of the AIDS crisis. This is a story about tragedy, injustice, and triumph. But most of all, it is a story about solidarity. 142 | Boston Pride 2016
For the first 10 years of the epidemic there was no effective treatment, let alone cure. Many people who did not show symptoms of the deadly disease, agonized every time they caught a cold or noticed a spot on their skin. The anxious waiting could last a long time, since the disease had an incubation period of up to ten years or longer. As bad as HIV/AIDS was, the stigma of having it could be worse. Many AIDS sufferers were evicted from their homes, fired from their jobs, and shunned by their families. In March 1986, journalist William F. Buckley called for tattooing the buttocks of AIDS sufferers to warn off potential sex partners. Neurosurgeon Dr. Vernon Mark, who was affiliated with the conservative organization Morality in Media, proSilence = Death. Act Up Boston makes the reality of AIDS heard at Faneuil Hall (1990). Credit: Marilyn Humphries.
