What I’m learning about the AIDS epidemic…

#TransparentTuesdays

Hi friend,

At 15 years old, I saw a professional touring version of the musical RENT onstage… and I wept uncontrollably through the whole thing. 

If you’re not familiar with the show, it's a rock opera about young “starving artist” types living in NYC and navigating love and loss during the height of the AIDS crisis, via 1989 and 1990. 

The show paints a haunting picture of how desperately scary, lonely, and sad that time was, as HIV ripped through the gay community, and the government and world did absolutely nothing, through deeply human characters and life-changing music.

The subject matter of this show was undeniably heavy, touching on themes of drug addiction, sex work, and suicide, alongside a major focus on the AIDS epidemic.

But none of that is why I wept through the entire three hour show. 

I wept because while the stories being told were all set against the background of pain, suffering, and tragedy… the actual stories themselves were full of hope and love.

This was a world where it was a literal crime to be gay, and the stigma against queer people meant that the vast majority of queer people ended up cut off, cast out, disowned, and left in poverty, unable to find employment or housing. The show offers a heartbreakingly accurate representation of how these folks, unwelcome in society, found and created their own “chosen families,” because they literally had to; because their survival depended on it. 

I remember being so moved by the deep, close, and meaningful bonds I saw formed between the characters in the show, as well as their commitment to making art, fighting for change, and believing in the inherent goodness of humanity. 

Even as humanity had abandoned them; even as they were dying. Their relationships with each other were rich in kindness, care, generosity, acceptance, and love… and they found ways of holding onto their own humanity.

I wept when I saw this show on stage because I had never seen anything so honest. 

So inspiring, or important. 

I didn’t know art could do that. 

Make meaning out of suffering. 

Uplift the spirit, without sugar-coating or bypassing the painful truth. 

Simultaneously tell the real stories of real people, and show the audience to itself; expand your mind, and help you reclaim parts of your heart you hadn’t even realized you’d lost. 

It was transcendent, and by intermission I knew a few things with absolute clarity:

1. I was going to be an actor. 

2. I was going to move to NYC. 

3. I was going to be a “starving artist,” and dedicate my life to making meaning out of suffering. 

4. I would always seek the kind of love that accepts, affirms, uplifts, heals, expands the heart, connects us with our humanity, and makes life worth living.

I think I’ve done what I set out to do, in many ways. The superficial details of my plan changed over time, but I think I’ve lived my life in a way that honors the spirit of these goals, the most important being that I found a career that allows me to continuously make meaning (and healing) out of suffering, and I will forever be striving to fill my life with the kind of love that keeps my heart open and my humanity in tact.

I’ve recently been cast in a local community theater production of RENT (you can read more about why I decided to audition here!), and dipping back into the material almost 25 years later has been fascinating, moving, and very humbling.

First of all, because I think it’s difficult for us to imagine how different of a time it was, despite being so recent in our history. The queer community is still dealing with stigma and being targeted for violence and the loss of human rights, but we’ve come so far in such a short amount of time that it can be hard to imagine how scary and isolating life was for gay people in 1990. 

For context, same sex marriage was legalized in 2008, but same-sex sexual activity only became legalized nationwide in 2003! 

Early on in the AIDS epidemic, nobody knew what HIV really was, or how it was actually transmitted. President Reagan actively prevented people from looking for a cure, because the disease disproportionately affected gay men and drug addicts– two populations that were viewed with so much disgust and disdain in the mainstream culture that people simply didn’t care if they died. 

The fear, stigma, misinformation, and panic about AIDS meant that even among the gay community, being HIV+ was both a death sentence in and of itself, and a source of further isolation, because even those “outsiders” who loved and accepted you were likely too afraid of catching the virus themselves to be there for you and with you as you died.

Last week, the cast had an older gay man come talk about his devastating experience of living through the early years of the AIDS epidemic, and we visited an exhibit featuring panels of the AIDS memorial quilt, which features over 30 years of handmade quilt panels memorializing people who have died of AIDS. 

A few photos I took at the AIDS quilt display

Both experiences highlighted (for me at least) that the musical has one thing heartbreakingly right— that despite this disease’s unbelievable tragedy and trauma, what comes through the strongest is the depth of people’s love and humanity. 

The people who died were human beings, and the people telling their stories won’t let you forget it. They had beautiful smiles that lit up a room. They loved books, or parties, or cooking, or pranks. They were kind, generous, funny, stubborn, or talented. They were worthy of respect and protection, and they deserved to live. People loved them, and still miss them to this day.

Learning more about this horrific bit of history has been incredibly eye-opening, and frankly, alarming.

While the research has made it possible both to prevent HIV transmission, and for people with HIV to live long lives, our current administration has again interrupted, blocked, and put that research on hold— because, again, we’re in an era where the lives of some kinds of people are considered disposable and unimportant. 

And since it’s the nature of a virus to continuously mutate, that means that in the next 5-10 years we will be seeing a resurgence of HIV transmissions, and a decrease in the effectiveness of our treatments for it. 

This is an entirely preventable problem, but it’s not one we’ll get to avoid now, because our government has decided to use stigma, misinformation, and fear-mongering about queer folks and science to rally support for themselves (and their billionaire supporters), and that has ensured that it will be a problem. 

When I first saw RENT, I was blown away by the fact that this was clearly written as a protest against injustice, and a plea for empathy and help. I naively assumed people simply didn’t know how bad of a problem this was, and I had absolute faith that once people understood, things would change.

I never imagined that 25 years later, the message would still be relevant. 

I would love for this show to be a hacky bit of nostalgia that feels completely silly now. But instead, the message that everyone is worthy of love and respect— and that our humanity matters—feels more relevant and important than ever.

I’m beyond grateful to be a part of a community (and a project) that is willing to tackle such painful material head-on with so much courage and compassion, and I’m honored to get to share some of what I’m learning and processing with you all.

The cast coming together for a hug after taking in the local AIDS quilt display

If you’re curious to learn more about what I’m learning about the world of the show, or even about my personal experience of going through the process of rehearsing for a musical, hit reply and let me know! 

I’m always down to share anything and everything with y’all. Thank you for being here, for reading and learning, and for caring about the state of our shared humanity.

Big hug,

Jessi