Dear AIDS,
Today I hail you boogeyman.
Today I’ll remember the first time your acronym tied itself to my identity and the many names you've had: Saint's Disease, Gay Cancer, GRIDS, House in Venice, Gift. Today I'll admire your elegance, how you use silence to multiply and neglect as your breeding ground. Cocktail parties and romances ground to a halt with the mere mention of you. How, after 40 years, the fear of you still has no name. No name for the panic of a broken condom, the uneasiness of a flu, the sweaty palms of an HIV test or a missed PrEP. How you changed our language. "Natural sex" became "unsafe," people into - or + signs.
Today I'm in awe that the damage you do to the body doesn't compare to what you can do to self-worth. The suicidal binges and sexual outbursts that follow seroconversions. The long dance you have with meth.
Today I'll lament the bathhouses, bars and backrooms you closed in a cloud of bleach. The books, paintings, films, speeches, advice from elders that you robbed me of. Today I'll even laugh at the blue balls you gave me in my 20s and the terrible biohazard tramp stamp tattoos you made cool for a while.
Today I'l give you the recognition in the way cultures have respected their holocausts, genocides, plagues and natural disasters.
But virus, you get one day from me. My other 364 days are dedicated to doing everything in our power so that one day every little Queer will know a lifetime without you.
Enjoy your big day.
Words by Leo Herrera. Written in 2015 for Worlds AIDS. Poem in POST.
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