Reflecting from room 1506

WOW! I can't believe I moved to Minnesota 10 years ago this year. I remember my first priority after finding a job was to find a Pride group. I wasn't against going to the bars but I had learned that if I was going to meet people that would become "friends" then I would have to find them in places other than a bar.

Thinking back, I am very fortunate having grown up in Northern California but I suppose it depends on the way you look at it. I never REALLY had to"Come out" and everything as I know it is pretty much the way it always has been. I have never had to fight for or been denied any kinds of rights. I grew up in a community that was very diverse so I have always known that people were people and never been exposed to anyone not liking or even hating someone based on their color, religious views, sexual orientation, etc. It was all about who had the better car, was wearing the latest style or who made the most money and a lot of that really hasn't changed.

I met my first partner in 1985, moved to Southern California and went to my first GLBT Pride Parade and I was shocked, scared, curious and in awe over the amount of people crying during the parade and I didn't understand why. I finally realized that in between the scantily clad men on floats from various bars were groups of people holding up pictures of friends,family members, partners, neighbors etc. that had been beaten just because they fought for their rights, our rights, MY rights. the rights that I completely took for granted.

Tears also flowed when the HIV/AIDS Service Organizations and activist groups went by and even though I myself was diagnosed with HIV in 1984(less than a year prior) it was terrifying yet eye opening to see this group of people called "Act Up" come marching along making all kinds of ruckus and then just stop in a dead silence, followed by half of the group dropping to the ground and the other half outlining their bodies in chalk and then they just stayed there in the silence laying on Santa Monica Blvd until the voices in megaphones shouted "pay attention.Act Up" and the people crawled out of there chalk outlined silhouettes and wrote messages inside the shells of what was once them laying in the street that said."ME". "YOU". "MOM". "DAD". "BROTHER". "SISTER". FRIEND". "PARTNER."

Years have gone by but that day will remain in my memory like it was yesterday. It's part of the reason that I got involved with Pride Organizations in the first place.

It is now June 28, 2008 (23 years later) and I am sitting here alone in a very nice, very expensive hotel the night before I am to create the Grandstand and V.I.P. area for the 3rd largest GLBT Pride Celebration in the country. One of my Best friends from California is here visiting and is at home with my partner since I have to be out on Hennepin Avenue at 5am to start my day. I have had about 4 hours of sleep in the last 3 days and although my intention was to be asleep by 8pm, as I was finally drifting off to sleep about 10pm I realized **FUCK** the bin of Pride (which consists of a giant plastic bin that holds so many Rainbow Flags you could pretty much gay up an entire coliseum) is still at our house and my car is at the Festival. Thankfully my partner was home and able to bring them to me to the hotel. But I digress!!!

But what does it all mean now? All over the world there are GLBT Pride Celebrations sponsored by HUGE Corporations. People of all races, genders and sexual orientations dance and celebrate together.

I have often wondered if it really matters to anyone if Pride celebrations actually serve a purpose anymore. I went to here Amistad Maupin speaklast week and he made a statement about HIV Education and how pissed off he was because how much more education do people need before they realize that HIV/AIDS is real, it does affect everyone and you can get it, even if it is "Your 1st time".... again.

We have come so far and yes, I know there is still a long way to go but I just wondered if Pride celebrations is the way to get there. I think I started asking myself these questions when people/friends asked me "Why do you do this to yourself?" and I would often just smile and nod because I never really had a good answer and just knew it's what I wanted and needed to do. But I have been thinking about it more and more and I realized that that was it; I do it because we are"MORE," More than G.L.B.T.Q or any other letter you want to attach to us, more than the stereotypical interior designers, great cooks, people with great hair or fashion consultants because trust me I have my share of friends that can't put 2 socks together and make em match to save theirlife, but we are just MORE. We are auto mechanics, auditors, Politicians or anything we want to be. We are proud to be whatever letter is attached to us or we attach to ourselves. We have good days and bad days like anyone else, we have children, we have houses, we pay taxes, we are equal and we are proud and yes we do still need Pride Festivals.

It was a really long night and weekend of hard work and reflection and of all the years I have worked or volunteered on or with Pride committees I feel more confidant than ever that I am where I need and want to be. A friend of mine asked me once "If not us, than who?" and I realized he is right.

Live, Love and Laugh often,

Richard

Not sure if this link will work but if it does, here are some pictures of TC Pride 2008

http://www.kodakgallery.com/BrowsePhotos.jsp?UAUTOLOGIN_ID=94495276507&UV=932125846630_744564632307&collid=94495276507.442681922307.1215634398314&page=1

P.S. The following letter was sent in from the Mother of a young man that had recently come out that again completely reinforced that I am where I need to be.

To Twin Cities PRIDE board,

I am a 47 year old happily married straight mom of 4. When my one soncame out a year ago (although I'd known for years without him tellingme-parents must just know these things!) we wondered as a family what wecould do to support him in his life journey without any condemnation, criticism, or discrimination. We knew he would get those things from theworld, but we wanted to make sure he was well-loved at home and homewould be a place too where he could be who he was created to be. Our dooris open to anyone important in his life and we recently, gratefully havehosted his boyfriend fora weekend and we adore him too! I found myself involved in a GSA group atour local high school and then volunteered for a few things, the PRIDEevent the biggest. I had no idea how I would be forever changed prior toPRIDE. What I saw on Saturday, while walking around the grounds, was aspiritual awakening for me. How could this wonderful community accept me(straight) just as I am, when I (and I'm talking 20 years ago I felt likethis) did not accept them just as they were? I've come a long way, but myfeelings of any "me" and "them" were forever changed to "us".We're all in this together, straight or GLTB. What a NONISSUE. I feltlike the welcome mat was rolled out for me in almost every booth I stoppedat, chatted it up with people and really got to know some of the strugglesof the GLTB community. I was moved to volunteer now with those sufferingand struggling with AIDS and help even more to love unconditionally. We're ALL children of our creator. I think the straight community is wayscrewed up!!!!!!!!!!! Anyway, I helped on Sunday as a volunteer with theparade, and even though I had a mass of stitches in my upper leg, I wasable to get around but mostly rode with Andi, the volunteer coordinator. I can't imagine another person in this position-what a RIOT! ROCK ONANDI! Anyway, at 10:59 we had our golf cart at the beginning of theparade and in the midst of a chaotic 1 minute trying to find 2 people tocarry the LEAD banner, it ended up to be me on one side and a wonderfulyoung woman on the other. We started the parade and I just prayed "Godget me through with my leg not hurting". Starting the first block (nowI'm talking the LEAD banner, the one that introduces the parade to people,the 2008 PRIDE parade banner) my heart started pumping and tears came tomy eyes instantly. I was sobbing, and was like "where did that come from"and then I realized I was proud. I cry as I write this-I am so very, veryproud of my son, my entire family for wrapping their arms around him inlove, being a part of something that's so big it's on a spiritual leveland ME, A STRAIGHT MOM FROM A TINY TOWNIN NORTHERN MINNESOTA WHERE I PROBABLY WOULD HAVE BEEN SHOT ON SIGHT(that's exaggerating a little, but not much) TO CARRYING TO LEAD BANNER INTHE 2008 PRIDE PARADE? I tell ya, I was more touched and moved than youcan even believe. I did stop crying and decided to enjoy one of thebiggest moments in my life, but cried all the way home and have cried onand off this week, I was so moved. There are no words. I get what PRIDEmeans now. Even as a straight woman, I understand PRIDE. Maybe not onthe same level as somebody else, but I got it in my own way. Thank youfor a heck of a time Andi, and all of you volunteers? You put your heartand soul into it. What an event. What coordination. Never seen anythinglike it....there was a photo of me on WCCO that I found and I've probablysent it to 50 of my friends. I guess I lost a couple of friends becauseof it (isn't THAT DUMB???!!! They should volunteer next year..maybe itwould open their eyes...) but who cares about that. I have like 50 newfriends just from this past weekend and I will be there next year andplease, can I be the banner carrier again? Thank you, all of you. Yougave this old lady "a moment" in life that I hope is etched on mytombstone. "She carried the banner, and was proud doing so". God'sblessings to each and every one of you.

I am a life that was changed.....Michelle B.

Printed in the Lavender Pride Edition at www.lavendermagazine.com

Living (and Living…) With HIV

by Terrance Griep


By all rights, Richard Carper should have died. Carper was diagnosed with HIV in 1984—during the decade of Duran Duran, Ronald Reagan…and Ryan White. It was that dark, pre-AZT epoch when testing HIV-positive was a certain condemnation to a slow, excruciating, and ugly death.

"It was crazy time," according to Carper, who these days works as a data manager for a local corporation. "Back in the day, people were reluctant to let me hold their baby, or, going to someone's house, they didn't want me to do their dishes. They wouldn't really say why, but we all knew."


Carper's was a rough diagnosis delivered roughly. He had signed on with the United States Navy, and just before the final "t" was crossed, and the final "i" was dotted, he was escorted by military police into an office whose sole purpose was to reject recruits.


"All my paper work was there," Carper remembers, and the officer presiding over the proceedings told him, in his words, "I was a lying, hypocritical faggot, because I had the AIDS cancer, and I was going to die. I was told there was no room in the US military for people like me."


Carper didn't even have the slightest idea that he was sick—this is how he found out he was HIV-positive. But that may have been the only thing positive in his life for the next decade.


"I ended up wandering around for a while," Carper recounts. "I figured I was going to go kill myself, because I'd been told I was going to die anyway. I really had no knowledge of what [HIV] was. I mean, I think I'd heard about it on the news. I was homeless, so I didn't get a chance to sit down and watch TV a lot, and it wasn't really talked about, so I had no knowledge of it except that other people got it."


Carper was a young man suffering alone through a gloomy present that was not tethered to a future, but to the void

"I went into the phase of writing a lot of bad checks, and spending a lot of money that I didn't have," Carper recalls, reviving a dismal breed of liberation. "I never thought I'd have to worry about any kind of retirement, buying a house, going to school—I didn't continue my education. I didn't do anything, because I was going to die. I ended up just living day to day, just waiting to die."

The agony of that waiting was alleviated chemically.

Carper relates, "I got involved in crystal meth, and, after about 10 years, I realized that, OK, maybe I'm not going to die right away. Every time I went to the doctor, he told me I had three months to live. I had three months to live for seven years."


Eventually, very eventually, even the most obtuse of medical professionals saw that HIV was affecting Carper differently than most—but survival had, and continues to have, its price. After years away from crystal meth, he relapsed, which proved to be a turning point.

"I think that's when I really, really chose to live my life," Carper shares. "At 34 years old, I realized I've got to start focusing on retirement, on getting a job and keeping it, and on continuing my education—all the things I never, ever thought I'd have to worry about. And," he adds with a laugh, "it's kind of a chore. I just turned 40 years old. When I wake up in the morning, I feel like I've got bricks strapped to my head. I don't know if that's HIV, or just being 40, but it sucks."


Nietzsche holds that what does not destroy one makes one stronger, and Carper's very existence is a testament to that notion.

"On a life level, I am so much more advanced, like many people living with HIV are," Carper reports. "Every single day, I am so appreciative of every color of every life that exists. It's just crazy. People say, 'Oh, that sounds so cheesy and cliché,' but I seriously believe it's true. The fact that I can pump out wedding cakes and birthday cakes and anniversary cakes, and the fact people who know my status ask me to do this without worrying that, you know, I'm going to bleed into the cake or something—I have a truly amazing life."


And, strangely—or not so strangely—HIV is an integral part of that amazing life.

"I am who I am today because of my HIV status," Carper insists. "I know the people that I know today because of my status. I had the attitude of a prima donna, but I'm so not about that now. I do the 300-mile bike ride every year for the Red Ribbon Ride. My partner works at Minnesota AIDS Project. I know a lot of great people through Minnesota AIDS Project, Minnesota AIDS Walk, and the Red Ribbon Ride. And I wouldn't know any of these people, and I wouldn't be at all who I am today, had I not been HIV-positive."

That begs an obvious question: If Carper hadn't become infected, who would he be?

"I can't say that I'd be dead," Carper muses. "I can say that I'd be very lonely, very cold, and very selfish—all caught up in my own little world."

That isn't to say Carper endorses HIV as some kind of "lifestyle choice." He urges everyone, especially queer youth, to employ every ounce of HIV prevention available to them. That said, Carper has been surprised by the bond formed between him and his fellow advocates.


"There's totally a sense of community," Carper declares. "I'm really proud to represent that community in any way, shape, or form. If I can help anybody to stay HIV-negative; help anybody who's positive to feel better about themselves; help anybody who's going through any type of addiction—if I can help anybody at all, I'd be more than proud."

By all rights, Carper should have died—"but," he supposes, "I wanted to live more."