This part will surprise some people, but not others. But I started high school in 1993/1994 in Houston Texas (yes, I am that old for those who didn’t know).
I guess I should tell you what 1994 in Houston Texas was like before I go any further. My private social justice based all girls high school had never had more than one out girl per year ever, some years didn’t even have one. My year was the first to have several (there were 5/6 of them, and yes, it was one of my main groups of friends). But in 1994, that group of friends didn’t exist and certainly weren’t out yet. Ellen wouldn’t come out on TV for another 3 years (1997).
Philadelphia came out the year before (1993). Reba Macintyre’s “She Thinks His Name Was John” was released that year – I had friends who were not allowed to listen to it. Also in 1993, the US Congress votes overwhelmingly to retain the ban on entry for those who with living with HIV. Rent opened in 1994, but it wouldn’t hit Houston for many MANY more years yet. AIDS was whispered about, as was the mere act of being gay. And of course, the absolute perception was that AIDS meant you were gay. I knew people at the time that voiced that AIDS was God’s punishment for gay people.
But also, I was a freshman in high school. And as ignorant of the world around me as most teenagers – no matter what I thought at the time. Still trying to figure out who I was and what I believed – in braces with bad skin and a brain and body that never quite stopped moving.
Into this world came a teacher who challenged me in ways that I had never had before, a class I loved so much that I would race to it every day, excited about learning about a subject that had literally never interested me in the slightest before.
One day, I raced to class only to discover that he was out, and would be for a time, because one of his good friend’s had died of AIDS. (I will never not be thankful to have gone to a school in the early 90s that said it not in a whisper or lied about it – they just matter of a fact told us as if it was no big deal. And so it wasn’t a big deal.)
When my mom picked me up from school, we had a long talk. I knew I wanted to do something for him, but I didn’t know what. I didn’t know how to help in this situation. My mom told me that when loved ones died of diseases, people often donated money to an organization that helped fund research and outreach for that disease. I spent the night (pre-internet, remember) looking through the yellow pages to find a non-profit that fit the bill. Eventually I found AIDS Foundation Houston, figure out how to donate to them, and figured out how to do it all. By the time I got back to class the next day, I was ready with a plan to tell the class about. From there, I organized a small fundraiser of mostly our class. The night before he was due back, I got everything together – and also decided that we should all have red ribbons to wear. My patient mom took me to the craft store right before it closed to get safety pins and ribbon. I worked on them all night to make enough for the 27 girls in my class and anyone else who wanted them. As luck would have it, we were first period on his first day back (we had a rotating schedule, that wasn’t guaranteed). The photo tax here is from that year. I kept the ribbon on my backpack all year and was esp proud of it for this photo.
I pause here to mention some things. It was very important to me at the time to not “take credit”. I made sure everyone had ribbons and the cards where on his podium before he came in the room. And I said nothing. Because it wasn’t about me or for me, it was for him. …. Guess the cats out of that bag now.
Fast forward to the first time I saw him after high school, some 6 or 7 years after graduation. I was honestly surprised he still knew my name, much less have strong memories of me – and I told him so.
And then he told me the story of that day from his side. He recalled coming into the classroom that first day, to a group of students all wearing red ribbons, silently supporting him. I reminded him that I hadn’t ever taken credit for it. And he told me he had always known, that it was so perfectly in character for me that it had to have been me - who else would it have been?
I continued to donate to AIDS Foundation Houston for many more years without telling anyone.
This was the first time I ever did something larger than myself. And it set the tone for the work I have done since.
Many years later, in grad school, when I was doing an applied theatre project about Act Up and doing the research for it, I watched the documentary How To Survive A Plague (side note, it’s on Netflix, you should watch it, it’s great). I understood in that moment how my teacher had known it was me. I hadn’t realized until that moment, many years and a half a country away, what it meant to support and advocate for those living with HIV/AIDS and those who loved them in the early/mid 90s. Esp in red state.
It's weird to look back on my life and the patterns that form are patterns that started when I was young that run threads throughout, colors I don’t recognize until later. The AIDS red ribbon is one of those threads. I’ve told you about two of the strands today, two of the reasons this challenge feels like coming home, but there are others. Maybe I’ll go into them over the course of this challenge. Maybe I won’t. Why don’t you come along and find out?
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