On Being Brave: COVID-19 Edition
As I watch the world react with fear to the coronavirus pandemic (COVID-19) and the United States government botch its response, I can’t help but be reminded of another pandemic. During the height of the HIV/AIDS crisis in the mid-1980’s, the United States government failed to act. By the time the government got around to addressing the crisis with any sense of gravity, roughly 20,000 Americans, many of them gay men, had already died. Although COVID-19 appears to be nowhere near as deadly as HIV during the 80’s with its inevitable descent into AIDS, COVID-19 is deadly for some. And, like HIV, the fear of COVID-19 appears to be tinged with the menace of bias and ignorance.
By the time experts figured out that HIV was disproportionately affecting gay men and Black Americans, some health professionals, even those who knew the virus was not spread except through blood-to-blood contact, refused to treat HIV-patients, particularly gay men, out of fear and ignorance of “the gay plague”. The media, the government, and many American communities openly shunned and derided gay men in fear that, like rats, they would spread the plague throughout America. The shame of this fearful response is a stain on America’s proclamation to be “the home of the brave”.
However, one group in America stood up to help. Recognizing the face of bias in this fearful response, lesbian women rose to the challenge. They volunteered in droves at hospitals and clinics. They organized blood drives. They responded to fear and ignorance with bravery and compassion. They comforted the sick and dying when no one else would. It’s hard to imagine what might have happened if these women had not been brave. It’s possible many more would have died, or, at least, many more would have died alone.
I am saddened to see history repeat itself again. Although this crisis is dissimilar to the HIV/AIDS crisis, I see many people reacting with fear instead of bravery, some reacting with racial animus toward the Chinese or other Asian communities, similar to those reactions to gay men during the 80s. “It’s a gay plague,” rings in my ears every time someone mentions COVID-19’s possible origins in China with derision or its disproportionate effects on the elderly. I do not think COVID-19 will go away because we fear it, because we recall how it only kills certain people, or because we call it names. The only thing that will stop its spread is the courage of the people who fight it.
In my estimation, US culture has “comic booked” bravery. It’s something for heroes with superpowers, for strong men and women who can do big things; it’s not for everyday Americans. I think we are living in a culture of fear. With everything that has happened, with all of the upheaval, it makes sense that many are anxious and tired. But I believe that courage is possible in each of us, through small acts of kindness, through defiance of ignorance and prejudice, through the willingness to volunteer to give blood when others will not. Being brave makes a difference not because it solves every problem or eliminates risk, but because it turns risk into hope. There is no hope without bravery and no change without small acts of hope.
Today, I am given hope by the bravery of women like the Blood Sisters, many lesbians, who organized blood drives in major cities throughout the US during the 1980s. I am given hope by the images of lesbian women caring for dying AIDS patients with kindness and gentility. I am reminded that, no matter how COVID-19 plays out, there are people who are brave. I am given hope by the men and women who are fighting this virus in hospitals and clinics throughout America at great risk to themselves. I, for one, will volunteer to help when volunteers are needed, and I know that many others in the LGBTQ+ community will do the same, because we remember what happened in the 80’s, and we are brave.
I will continue to see clients in my office as normal. Because my office is private, I do not believe that my clients are at risk. If I contract COVID-19, I will, of course, quarantine myself to protect others. Until such time, I want to keep helping those I can with bravery and compassion. I hope that each of you will remember that bravery does not require big power or big acts. Sometimes bravery is just being willing to feed someone soup, donate blood, or volunteer. I believe these small acts will make a difference; I know the small acts of those lesbian Blood Sisters did.