These are dangerous days
To say what you feel is to dig your own grave – Sinėad O’Connor

• Funding for critical disease research delayed or denied.
• Media too fearful to take a stand.
• The party in power laughing and promoting negative stereotypes.
• Institutional neglect.
• Religious people condemning the gay community.
• Outright mockery from the White House.
• People afraid to speak up.

No, I’m not talking about 2025, I’m talking about the AIDS epidemic during the Reagan Years (1981-1989). But the lessons from that time are important now because, as the old saying goes, “those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it.”

The 1980s were a very different time. Open discrimination against gay people in housing and employment was legal except in a handful of places. New York City did not pass antidiscrimination legislation until 1986, almost 17 years after Stonewall. New Jersey’s antidiscrimination law was passed in 1991, beating Los Angeles by a full year (though it wasn’t until 2006 that gender identity and expression were included).

It was against this backdrop that AIDS was allowed to spread unchecked. In 1982, when asked about this new disease, White House Press Secretary Larry Speakes laughed and said “I don’t have it. Do you?” Others in the briefing room also laughed.

The laughter eventually gave way to more sinister rhetoric, with public figures openly suggesting the quarantine or isolation of gay men. Conservative Commentator William F. Buckley wrote, in the New York Times, “Everyone detected with AIDS should be tattooed on the upper forearm and on the buttocks.”

At the same time, religious leaders called the disease “God’s punishment” and were relentless in attacking the sick and dying. Many churches would not allow openly gay people to attend, receive sacraments, or even have a funeral service.

Some families were so ashamed of their own children that they would only show up after they had died—to take their personal belongings and kick out partners from homes and apartments because there were no legal protections against doing so.

And yet, against this ugly backdrop of hatred, fear, and silence a resistance grew. It was quiet at first, but, over time, became so loud that it could no longer be ignored.

While some doctors and nurses treated AIDS patients with fear and judgment, others became compassionate advocates.

The gay community and our allies pulled together. People volunteered their time: sharing information, trying to get the attention of those in government, or just quietly sitting with men who had no one else. Lesbians played a greatly underappreciated role: volunteering in hospitals and hospices, organizing food deliveries, helping those with AIDS find housing.

Finally, in 1987, frustration boiled over, and two very different approaches emerged. Activist and Playwright Larry Kramer started The AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power (ACT UP), which engaged in civil disobedience to demand that more be done to find a treatment or cure for the disease. That same year, Activist Cleve Jones started the AIDS Memorial Quilt which helped show that there were humans behind the statistics. In October of that same year, there was a huge March on Washington, D.C. for Lesbian and Gay Rights.

Eventually, those with power could ignore us no longer and things began to change. Early treatments were developed, and they continued to get better. More straight people realized that they’d had gay friends and neighbors all along and that it just wasn't a big deal. Some of us even moved to suburban New Jersey.

Why the history lesson? As an elder, I’m glad that younger people in our community don’t have to go through something so painful and hope you all live to a ripe old age. I see so many of you worried about losing rights, having your spouses and partners deported, having your marriages challenged again and, in too many places, still being surrounded by hatred and ignorance.

You can stand up and fight against it. If that's not your style, you can provide support to those who do. it’s your turn to carry the torch. As long as you keep it burning bright you, too, will emerge from these dangerous days.

John and his husband Carlos moved from California to New Jersey in 2021 and are enjoying the suburban life. John can be reached at jsr26 at msn dot com.