The funny thing about the order to stay “six feet” apart from one another is that folks like me can’t be too sure if the orderer is suggesting the distance we should be standing, or the distance we should be buried.
When you tell me you hope my death is via “catching AIDS.” What you are saying is you want me to live forever, or at least until a miracle occurs. And in response I say, “Thank you!”
I want visitors to the exhibit to understand that humans who are the most impacted by crisis, in its many forms (prison, racism, HIV, sexism, poverty, educational scarcity), have the capacity to change their own circumstances and those of others, through art-making, community, activism, and collaboration: metanoia!
No matter how much therapy, I am never really ready for what the sun demands this time of year. The brunches, the day parties, the summer park nights fueled on laughter and liquor.
For too long the societal conversation surrounding HIV began and ended on individuals and their actions. This focus oftentimes working as a distraction from all the factors at play surrounding said individual.
But truth is, from what I can tell, I am the only person who brought a “partner” to this reunion. Sure, there might be other fiances, but partner is the only term straight folks prescribe to gay niggas.
We know that our communities aren't safer because more people are in prison, but a lot of people still believe and think that.
They could lock things down for one day, but prisoners thought, "We're going to stretch this out and make this longer."
When the walls of prison rub up against the walls of identity, love can be a violent thing.
I heard stories that even an accusation of endangerment has the potential to land you in prison.
