HIV IN THE U K
The shock of HIV has changed us and society James House Documentary director
As a non-medic, my knowledge of healthcare (such as it is) has been gleaned through filming in the NHS, as a patient, and as the son of committed, lifelong GP William House. Recently I directed Epidemic: When Britain Fought AIDS for Channel 4, a film that told the story of the early years of the AIDS epidemic in this country and the (successful) fight to get central government to take action. The experience of making that film inspired this article.
The AIDS epidemic, perhaps particularly in the UK, changed society’s attitudes for ever. Gay men suddenly became visible, and conversations about sex and sexuality were increasingly unavoidable. Over time, rejection changed to sympathy and eventually a certain kind of solidarity. A brief 35 years later we have marriage equality. The speed of social change has been immense but for the gay community – and others – life is still lived in a precarious balance.
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As a documentary director working in television you don’t always get to make programmes you have a personal connection to. With tenacity and a degree of luck you can manoeuvre yourself towards things you feel are worthwhile, and you find ways of caring about them. But it doesn’t always feel personal. So, as a gay man, when I was approached by a production company with some seed funding from the Wellcome Trust to develop a film about the early years of the AIDS epidemic in the UK I leapt at the opportunity. Three years later, and scheduled to coincide with the 50th anniversary of the partial decriminalisation of male homosexuality in England and Wales, Epidemic: When Britain Fought AIDS went out on Channel 4. I was born in 1981 – a year before the first case of AIDS was recorded in the UK. In 1996 when combined anti-retroviral therapy first became available (people called it ‘the Lazarus effect’ – patients literally got up and walked) I was only 15. Treatment improved dramatically from that point onwards. Given, then, that I dodged the most horrific years of the epidemic by accident of birth, why did I want to make this film? Until now I hadn’t asked myself that question. In writing this piece I’ve done so for the first time. The answer is surprisingly conflicted.
On the one hand there’s celebration. As a teenager and young adult, despite the fact that I had little explicit knowledge of the AIDS epidemic or queer history (it doesn’t tend to be taught in schools) I had a vague feeling of indebtedness to the gay rights activists who’d come before me. I sensed that the rights and freedoms I could enjoy – to be honest about my sexuality and, from 2004, to have a relationship acknowledged by law – were thanks to their brave work. At the same time, even decades after decriminalisation, the world I grew up in was quite clearly far from accepting towards gay people. At school and with family, homosexuality felt like a taboo. When, infrequently, it was discussed it was ‘them’ doing it, not ‘us’. And ‘they’ were odd creatures. I wasn’t ‘out’ at school, but I was frequently bullied with the word ‘gay’ (or worse) for being more effeminate than the other boys. ‘Gay’ was – and often still is – a term of abuse in the playground. Talking to gay friends today I know my experiences were not unusual. Contradictory feelings, then. I wanted to celebrate progress I wouldn’t care nearly so much about had I not been politicised by my experiences as a gay teenager in the ‘90s! I felt that in making a film about the AIDS epidemic I could acknowledge what I wouldn’t dispute have been massive steps forward, while at the same time hammering
© Journal of holistic healthcare
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Volume 14 Issue 3 Autumn 2017
