Now the upwardly spiraling statistics-450,000 American cases of AIDS projected by 1993-have goaded even Reagan’s conservative AIDS commission to call for major action. Let us call this cruel indifference by its right name-intentional genocide. Everett Koop, the Reagan administration has just twiddled its thumbs. Meanwhile, with the exception of Surgeon General C. America has lost many of its most promising and prominent cultural figures. We‘ve lost many of our most brilliant political leaders. In 1981, 225 cases of AIDS were reported in America by the spring of 1983, 1,400 cases by summer of 1985, 15,000 cases and two years later, 40,000 cases. And if Lou Reed felt a need to tone down his “walk on the wild side,” many openly gay pop singers from Sylvester to Morrissey remain popular.īut while we defeated the Briggs and LaRouche initiatives and survived Anita Bryant and Jerry Falwell, AIDS has taken a terrible toll. Gay playwrights, such as Harvey Fierstein and Harry Kondoleon, have been praised in The New York Times. Gay bands, choruses, square dancers, and performance artists tour the country regularly. Never have there been so many good books, plays, and films on the gay and lesbian experience: witness the increasing size of our film festivals, major studio films featuring gay love stories, and N ewsweek featuring gay writers in its book section. Dear Abby and Ann Landers now advise Middle America that our sexual orientation is a valid option.Ĭulturally we’ve done well too. In the 80s, gays in professions and academia have come out as well. During the course of the 70s, half of the states eliminated sodomy statutes and many large cities included us under civil rights protections. In 1974, the American Psychiatric Association decided we weren‘t mentally ill.
We’ve won numerous political battles as well. Gay leaders, such as Ken Maley, have been profiled in the Examiner, and Issan Dorsey, of the Hartford Street Zen Center, in The N ew Yor ker’s “Talk of the Town.” Openly gay journalists, such as Randy Shilts and Edward Guthman, have won awards for their writing in the Chronicle. ABC News recently did a segment on parents of gays and Cleve Jones was its “Person of the Week” when the NAMES Project went to Washington.
Now national TV networks, magazines, and newspapers discuss us on a daily basis, often in regard to AIDS but in other contexts too. First in curiosity, then in growing respect. At first the older “hidden” gay community felt threatened, but our numbers grew. We‘d marched for other causes now we marched for our own. So the first wave of us who came out were political radicals. I never imagined our numbers were so great, and the thrill I felt in seeing so many same-sex couples dancing together cannot be described.īut coming out publically was a different matter.
On weekends, over 1,000 gays and lesbians attended. I still recall the first gay bar I attended in Atlanta, Chuck‘s Rathskeller. New underground and gay newspapers proclaimed: “Gay is good.” Gay bars played the role for us that black churches played for the black civil rights movement. Antiwar activists paved the way saying “Make love, not war,” and hippies by saying “Do your own thing.” Feminists challenged sex roles. The first step in our liberation was “coming out.” Even before Stonewall, a brave handful of individuals had done so: poets such as Robert Duncan and Allen Ginsberg, activists such as Harry Hay, Frank Kameny and Barbara Gittings. More liberal, educated citizens merely considered us “sick.” So out of fear we hid-from America, from our families, from ourselves. The phrase “corruption of morals past all expression”-used by European colonists about Native American sexual practices-was America’s prevalent attitude toward homosexuality.
Before the Stonewall Riots in 1969, our existence was virtually unspeakable. And yet we‘ve made great gains over the past 20 years. Hardwick) was a setback, but AIDS has become our greatest challenge. Never has evaluating the present and future of gay politics and culture been so problematic.
In the following excerpt, originally written in the late 80s, Abbott offers a highly personal take on the late-century social milieu and unknowingly provides insight into our current political moment. Abbott, a poet, critic, editor, and novelist, was not only a champion of the literary arts, but he was also a thoughtful cultural critic. The recently released Beautiful Aliens: A Steve Abbott Reader (Nightboat Books) offers an illuminating survey of the work of beloved Bay Area writer Steve Abbott (1943–1992). Will We Survive the 1980s? A Snapshot of a Gay Cultural Milieu