I came out in the early-80s, just in time to see scores of friends and lovers die of a pandemic many viewed as the logical result of immoral living. I marched and agitated for rights many felt represented undeserved over-reaching. I lost jobs and was denied jobs because I was gay. I've been bashed and assaulted by men who fear and loathe all "others." I've seen political leaders hate and legislate against common decency and justice for queerfolk. I've watched reclaimed "gay neighborhoods" get colonized by straights and their spawn, while the bars, bathhouses, and dance clubs faded away. I've seen "A-List" gay men aggressively ignore the plight of homeless, addicted queers, while buying up Victorian fixers, Chinese babies, and Frenchies. I was restricted from being with my dying husband because I wasn't "family." I listen as entitled, privileged "long-term survivors" nobly award themselves special honors, while building barriers to compassion for newly-infected women and men. And I've been enriched and inspired by the countless bull dykes and lispstick lesbians who've fought for and cared for me and my brothers all along the way. Thank you, loves.
Thank you, loves
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