This weekend I participated in the AIDS Walk, NYC. With the help of friends and coworkers, I raised $200. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to put towards free syringes for a needle exchange program or purchase bags of condoms for a community based organization. I was very excited to walk, although it rained. What more could we expect from the month of May? Central Park was lush with greens all around. But more prominent than the green hue of the newly budding shrubs were the red and white t-colors in honor of AIDS Walk. The park was filled with people from all walks of life—people that I assume were all affected by HIV/AIDS in some way, whether they knew a loved one who died from AIDS, someone who’s infected with the HIV virus, or perhaps they work in community health or volunteer with a church or company that sponsored AIDS Walk. One would think that AIDS Walk is a safe space for LGBT individuals given that it’s organized by one of the most prominent gay run AIDS service agencies in the city, Gay Men’s Health Crisis (GMHC). The first walk was held on May 18th, 1986 as a way to raise money for GMHC and battle the stigmas associated with HIV/AIDS. But as I did the walk on Sunday, May 15th, 2011, twenty-five years later, I was astounded by the level of ignorance that still exists, in regards to homophobia, one of the factors associated with why it took so long for certain groups to realize that HIV/AIDS was no longer a “gay disease”. Perhaps this shift in paradigm was what had contributed to the lack of awareness and sensitivity that I witnessed on Sunday. It was certainly an “us versus them” complex, a “gay versus straight” mentality, which divided individuals within the walk, particularly the young people who were walking.
The first incident that made me realize this occurred when a cheer-leading team made up of young men and women cheering the walkers on as we made our way through the middle of the park. That was when I heard a group of teenage boys behind me utter: “All those n***ers are gay, son! Everyone here is so gay!” I immediately shot them a look and without thinking twice, asked, “So what if they’re gay? Is that a problem?” The shortest boy in the group looked at me and laughed, his Adams bobbing up and down his scrawny neck. It turned out that he was the ringleader, so the other boys all paused to hear his response. “No, it’s not a problem, because I'm a lesbian” the boy said, laughing, his crooked teeth visible. He was looking me square in the eyes as if daring me to say something about his ludicrous declaration. For a minute I almost believed him, almost apologized given that I know lesbians who look like teenage boys, lesbians who refer to themselves as “bois”. However, by the way how this teenager was laughing and carrying on, I knew he just made another ignorant joke. I rolled my eyes and continued to walk with my partner and a coworker.
The kid never uttered another word about the male cheerleaders after I confronted him, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this is what gay kids in school have to go through each day. The ignorant tortures of kids like the one I had to put in his place. Further into the park I came across another group of entertainers who were dancing to house music and techno for the crowd. This time, the ring leader of the pack of another set of high school kids was a girl. “Oh my god, they’re so gay! Just look at them!” She said this as if she had just spotted a group of rats on the platform of a subway station gnawing on human flesh. “Just look at them!” She repeated. I was so taken aback that I looked to see where she was pointing. Maybe she did see a group of rats devouring garbage. After all, it’s Central Park. But when I saw that she was indeed pointing at the men dancing in their tight jeans and knotted red shirts, I was appalled.
The young woman was with a group of boys who all laughed with her. Their laughter rose above the buzzing of the crowd and the music, crashing like the clanking of pots and pans on my eardrums. This infuriated my partner who was also aware of what the kids were laughing at. My co-worker, who is a gay man, said something to one of them. A minute later one of the boys in the pack said to one of his friends as they passed a group of girls, “I know that one is a lesbian because she’s ugly. Only ugly girls become lesbians!”
I couldn’t believe my ears. In 2011 at a walk that is supposed to be for fighting HIV/AIDS in our communities and the stigma, prejudices, and secrecy around it, this was the level of homophobia I witnessed. I realized that day that one may walk for a cause, but that doesn’t mean they necessarily believe in it. Take AIDS Walk for instance. These kids have no idea that that their homophobic comments are the very thing that drives many people inside the closet and bury them so deep in denial that they don’t find the community and support they need to live healthy lifestyles. As the old saying says, “We’re only as sick as our secrets”, but when we have a community that fosters these secrets by keeping these stigmas alive, we will never get better. Moreover, the kids who made those homophobic comments are the new generation. They’re the ones who will determine whether or not our community will continue to suffer the way it has been suffering. Yet, there was no one to tell them to stop making these homophobic slurs at an event like AIDS Walk; no one to question their motive for being there and challenge them on the issues we face in our community and why a walk like AIDS Walk is important.
My first instinct was to believe that someone had forced these kids to do the walk. Perhaps it was a requirement for them to obtain credit in school or perhaps a parent or older sibling or guardian had dragged them along without explaining to them why they’re there. For them, AIDS Walk must have been a social event where they could meet up with friends and hang out, friends who may one day become victims, friends who might be gay but because of comments made in their groups and because everyone wants to be accepted, never come out of the closet; friends who’s secrets might one day fester like a sore, their silence killing them slowly like poison.
Nicole © 2011
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