I watched the Oscar nominated documentary How To Survive a Plague a few weeks ago. It’s been haunting me ever since.
Mixing archival video with present day recollections, Plague tells the story of the AIDS advocacy group ACTUP (AIDS Coalition To Unleash Power) and their decade long struggle to force the federal government to find an affordable and effective treatment for HIV/AIDS. Comprised mostly of gay men and their lesbian allies, ACTUP fought for survival in an age in which many of their compatriots believed they deserved death.
Many also wished they would disappear. Nearly 20,000 U.S.-Americans died of AIDS before President Reagan publicly mentioned its existence, nearly seven years after its virulent emergence.
In the nineteen eighties, many of the United States’ AIDS dead were gay men. Evicted from families and forced to flee hometowns, they sought refuge in the anonymity of big cities. Their arrival constituted a type of re-birth; there, they re-incorporated themselves into families and friend groups. Some lived lives of open flamboyance, valiantly defying mainstream desire that they blend in invisibly. Others remained in the closet until disease or indignity pushed them out. Their deaths were a whisper.
The dead bodies of AIDS victims were treated much like the living bodies of gay people: perpetually contaminating and hideously grotesque, they should be neither seen nor touched. If possible, they should be erased altogether.




