People living with HIV are a resilient bunch, and history continues to repeat itself.
There’s a photo above my desk, from 1994, that I’ve carted around for decades now. That year was a turning point for me. Fresh off 12 months of homelessness in San Francisco (at the time, one of the only cities where you could be gainfully employed and still experiencing homelessness), I finally had a roof over my head — a 12-foot trailer with no working toilet or shower (we had to get creative) an hour outside of the city. I received my first Macintosh computer that year, a big box with a little nine-inch screen that I paid for in installments. I toiled away writing essays at night, and by day editing my new lesbian magazine Girlfriends. Read More
