See this? See this picture of two containers of ice Cream?
This is what AIDS does.
In order to explain, I have to go way back to the late 70s, and early 80s - to just before that pandemic began. So, settle in, kids. I'm about to tell a story.
Once upon a time, there were gay men and there were lesbian women. They were separate but not equal - mostly because there were men and then there were women and it was the late 70s, and early 80s when, even though I was divorced, I couldn't get a credit card unless my father, brother or ex-husband co-signed for me. (#Fact)
There were also "drag queens" but no one talked about "transgender people" (Some hissed "Nelly". Or, blithely called each other, "Mary" but it wasn't exactly the same) and, if you said "Queer" out loud, it was tantamount to saying the "N" word. Racism was as rampant in both communities as it was in the rest of society.
There are lots of examples of "separate but equal" Queer Gender exclusion, but here on Rehoboth Bay, 30 years ago, we were told that "the boys" went to one Episcopal church and "the girls" went to another - if they went at all.
If you were one of the boys, you wore the Episcopal male uniform: Khaki pants, starched white shirt - preferably with French cuffs, red tie, and blue blazer with gold buttons. In the summer, you would ditch the shirt and jacket for a Polo shirt - often hunter green with Khaki pants, or, if you were really daring, white and paired with pink pants.
And, always brown penny loafers with no socks.
If anyone still has an Integrity Orientation Booklet to General Convention, you will find that the "dress code" is exactly as I have described it.
If you were one of the girls? If you went to church at all? Well, that would depend on whether or not you could "pass" as "normal". Maybe something non-threatening like a librarian, a schoolmarm, or a former nun.
Since that usually meant wearing a skirt or a dowdy dress and pumps, you understand why many lesbian women skipped church and had their own Yoga Sessions or Buddhist Chanting or Wiccan Prayer Circles and Revolutionary Societies. Or, went for a long ride on their motorcycle on Sunday morning and gloried in the beauty of nature.
In the summer, the boys could be found on Poodle Beach, the girls at North Beach. Every now and again, you heard about gay men and lesbian women socializing and dining together, but that was only because they worked together at the same company.
They would never go together to a 'gay bar' or a 'lesbian cafe'. They just looked like they might be like any other couple or a foursome out to eat at one of the local restaurants.
The social walls were carefully constructed in part because of internalized oppression and in part for self-protection.
And then, the pandemic hit, and all the walls came down.
On the front lines of the AIDS battle stood organizations like the public health or visiting nurse associations which have always been thick with lesbian women who tend to like the independence built into the work.
We saw how gay men were treated - often times by our colleagues in hospitals and clinics. It was disgraceful, an insult to the Hippocratic Oath to "do no harm". Funeral homes were refusing to tend to the dead bodies of gay men who "died of complications due to AIDS." Churches - yes, even some Episcopal Churches - refused to hold funeral services.
So, we stepped up. And, so did they. We overcame all that previous crap and worked together to take care of each other. We grew up. We matured. We stayed focused on the work and, in the process, became friends.
I will never forget the General Convention when gay men and lesbian women wore buttons that said "Our church has AIDS". Everyone wanted one. Everyone was wearing them.
I know this sounds silly - now - but it was a brave thing to do. When lesbian women and gay men stood in solidarity, we built together another wall - one with a gate in the front that allowed others to enter.
The only other buttons that were as popular as "Our church has AIDS" were the ones we handed out to straight people that said, "Honorary Gay Man" or "Honorary Lesbian."
I still remember the smiles on the faces of Jack Spong and Doug Theuner when I gave them an "Honorary Lesbian" button.
The organization NEAC - National Episcopal AIDS Coalition - was born and did amazing work. Friendships were forged at those gatherings and Eucharists that remain unshakable.
That's where this coffee ice cream comes in.
Some of you may know that I love coffee ice cream. It's my absolute favorite. And, it's very difficult to find 'round these parts. I understand Trader Joe's has a wicked coffee ice cream.
One person reportedly took one bite and said, "Okay, two things: One, there is crack cocaine in here and B, if I'm dying just get me some cartons of this stuff and I'll die happy."
Well, there's no Trader Joe's 'round these parts. The closest one is in Newark - about 2 hours from where I live. You know, I love coffee ice cream but not enough to travel two hours for it.
A dear friend from the days of NEAC was coming to Rehoboth for a little vacay. He read my FB post and offered to stop at Trader Joe's on his way here and get some for me and we'd figure out the hand-off at some point.
And, that's how, last night, at the end of a long and challenging day at work, I came into possession of these two beauties. Two - count them, not one but two - containers of Trader Joe's Coffee Bean Blast Super Premium Ice Cream.
You'll excuse me and understand when I tell you that every time I look in the freezer, I get a little verklempt.
We lost a lot of wonderful gay men, a few lesbian women, and tons of people of color to this horrid disease. And, friendships were formed in the crucible of the pandemic that will last a lifetime and into eternity.
AIDS is now a disease with terminal implications. Then, AIDS was a horrible disease. The response of the government and people in the health care and service industries and yes, the church, was disgraceful. Some "complications of AIDS" included "death by government red tape" and "death by church shunning and shaming."
And yet, something good, something wonderful arose from the flames of destruction and death. Something that will never die.
I'm so grateful to have lived through that time and come through it to enjoy Trader Joe's Coffee Blast Ice Cream with one of my brothers, sure and true.
AIDS did not get the final word.
Love did.
Love always does.
And, sometimes, the love that defeats prejudice and fear and lives on to tell the story looks like a carton of ice cream.
This is what AIDS does.
In order to explain, I have to go way back to the late 70s, and early 80s - to just before that pandemic began. So, settle in, kids. I'm about to tell a story.
Once upon a time, there were gay men and there were lesbian women. They were separate but not equal - mostly because there were men and then there were women and it was the late 70s, and early 80s when, even though I was divorced, I couldn't get a credit card unless my father, brother or ex-husband co-signed for me. (#Fact)
There were also "drag queens" but no one talked about "transgender people" (Some hissed "Nelly". Or, blithely called each other, "Mary" but it wasn't exactly the same) and, if you said "Queer" out loud, it was tantamount to saying the "N" word. Racism was as rampant in both communities as it was in the rest of society.
There are lots of examples of "separate but equal" Queer Gender exclusion, but here on Rehoboth Bay, 30 years ago, we were told that "the boys" went to one Episcopal church and "the girls" went to another - if they went at all.
If you were one of the boys, you wore the Episcopal male uniform: Khaki pants, starched white shirt - preferably with French cuffs, red tie, and blue blazer with gold buttons. In the summer, you would ditch the shirt and jacket for a Polo shirt - often hunter green with Khaki pants, or, if you were really daring, white and paired with pink pants.
And, always brown penny loafers with no socks.
If anyone still has an Integrity Orientation Booklet to General Convention, you will find that the "dress code" is exactly as I have described it.
If you were one of the girls? If you went to church at all? Well, that would depend on whether or not you could "pass" as "normal". Maybe something non-threatening like a librarian, a schoolmarm, or a former nun.
Since that usually meant wearing a skirt or a dowdy dress and pumps, you understand why many lesbian women skipped church and had their own Yoga Sessions or Buddhist Chanting or Wiccan Prayer Circles and Revolutionary Societies. Or, went for a long ride on their motorcycle on Sunday morning and gloried in the beauty of nature.
In the summer, the boys could be found on Poodle Beach, the girls at North Beach. Every now and again, you heard about gay men and lesbian women socializing and dining together, but that was only because they worked together at the same company.
They would never go together to a 'gay bar' or a 'lesbian cafe'. They just looked like they might be like any other couple or a foursome out to eat at one of the local restaurants.
The social walls were carefully constructed in part because of internalized oppression and in part for self-protection.
And then, the pandemic hit, and all the walls came down.
On the front lines of the AIDS battle stood organizations like the public health or visiting nurse associations which have always been thick with lesbian women who tend to like the independence built into the work.
We saw how gay men were treated - often times by our colleagues in hospitals and clinics. It was disgraceful, an insult to the Hippocratic Oath to "do no harm". Funeral homes were refusing to tend to the dead bodies of gay men who "died of complications due to AIDS." Churches - yes, even some Episcopal Churches - refused to hold funeral services.
So, we stepped up. And, so did they. We overcame all that previous crap and worked together to take care of each other. We grew up. We matured. We stayed focused on the work and, in the process, became friends.
I will never forget the General Convention when gay men and lesbian women wore buttons that said "Our church has AIDS". Everyone wanted one. Everyone was wearing them.
I know this sounds silly - now - but it was a brave thing to do. When lesbian women and gay men stood in solidarity, we built together another wall - one with a gate in the front that allowed others to enter.
The only other buttons that were as popular as "Our church has AIDS" were the ones we handed out to straight people that said, "Honorary Gay Man" or "Honorary Lesbian."
I still remember the smiles on the faces of Jack Spong and Doug Theuner when I gave them an "Honorary Lesbian" button.
The organization NEAC - National Episcopal AIDS Coalition - was born and did amazing work. Friendships were forged at those gatherings and Eucharists that remain unshakable.
That's where this coffee ice cream comes in.
Some of you may know that I love coffee ice cream. It's my absolute favorite. And, it's very difficult to find 'round these parts. I understand Trader Joe's has a wicked coffee ice cream.
One person reportedly took one bite and said, "Okay, two things: One, there is crack cocaine in here and B, if I'm dying just get me some cartons of this stuff and I'll die happy."
Well, there's no Trader Joe's 'round these parts. The closest one is in Newark - about 2 hours from where I live. You know, I love coffee ice cream but not enough to travel two hours for it.
A dear friend from the days of NEAC was coming to Rehoboth for a little vacay. He read my FB post and offered to stop at Trader Joe's on his way here and get some for me and we'd figure out the hand-off at some point.
And, that's how, last night, at the end of a long and challenging day at work, I came into possession of these two beauties. Two - count them, not one but two - containers of Trader Joe's Coffee Bean Blast Super Premium Ice Cream.
You'll excuse me and understand when I tell you that every time I look in the freezer, I get a little verklempt.
We lost a lot of wonderful gay men, a few lesbian women, and tons of people of color to this horrid disease. And, friendships were formed in the crucible of the pandemic that will last a lifetime and into eternity.
AIDS is now a disease with terminal implications. Then, AIDS was a horrible disease. The response of the government and people in the health care and service industries and yes, the church, was disgraceful. Some "complications of AIDS" included "death by government red tape" and "death by church shunning and shaming."
And yet, something good, something wonderful arose from the flames of destruction and death. Something that will never die.
I'm so grateful to have lived through that time and come through it to enjoy Trader Joe's Coffee Blast Ice Cream with one of my brothers, sure and true.
AIDS did not get the final word.
Love did.
Love always does.
And, sometimes, the love that defeats prejudice and fear and lives on to tell the story looks like a carton of ice cream.
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