Unite the Fight

AIDS Walk and Ride, an annual fundraiser that benefits the agency I work for as well as other agencies that serve those living with HIV/AIDS, took place a week and a half ago. I was pretty excited about it, after having missed AIDS Walk New York for the first time in four years. I was looking forward to seeing how many people would show up and how much money would be raised. I was also curious to see how the event is run, especially when the only thing I have to compare it to is AIDS Walk New York - an event attended by tens of thousands of people and raises over $1 million dollars annually for agencies in NYC. Maybe I wasn't too pumped about having to be at the registration table at 5am, but I was excited nonetheless.

I didn't know what to expect as I drove to the area where the event would be held. I was kind of holding my breath, afraid that very few people would show up. North Carolina is a pretty conservative state and Wake County is growing more conservative as the Tea Party moves into its government. When it comes to HIV/AIDS, this state seems to have been swept up in the abstinence-only sexual education movement of the George W. Bush era. The funding necessary to save the lives of those living with HIV across this state is short. The AIDS Drug Assistance Program (ADAP), a program that assists those who are uninsured and living in poverty by providing them with the HIV medications necessary to save their lives, has a waiting list. This is something I had never heard of in NYC or in Connecticut. And now, even with a recent study stating that HIV medications not only save lives but can also help prevent the transmission of the virus, things don't seem to be changing down here. As I drove to the event before sunrise that Saturday morning, I didn't know what to expect. Part of me actually expected to see protesters like I did at PRIDE Day in Durham back in the fall. HIV/AIDS is stigmatized, as it has been for the past 30 years, and the generally conservative environment of the South makes it even more difficult to talk about the epidemic - and thus to prevent further transmission of this virus.

Cyclists began to arrive at the registration table, 89 in total. Each had registered to ride either 30, 60, or 100 miles. With each person who approached the table, I felt my heart soften a little. I do not know the stories behind each of these riders and I don't know their reasons for choosing to ride in our fundraiser. What I do know is that there was a clear passion among the crowd. As I glimpsed out at the group preparing to start their long rides, I was overcome with emotion. Team LLAMA, Team VIIV, and Team Tarhealers all stood there proudly with their race shirts. There had been a bad accident that morning on I-40 between Chapel Hill and Raleigh, so many of the team members from the Tarhealers were arriving late, as they are from UNC. It amazed me when one of the young men approached the registration table to say that the other riders could take off but the Tarhealers would wait until each of their team members arrived to start their ride. Riding together; riding in solidarity. 

A few hours later, many folks began arriving to the Children's Garden to register for the walk and to visit our festival. Things had settled down a lot after the riders left, but after a couple of hours, tons of people were arriving. People of all races, genders, sexual orientations, and ages were coming to walk for the cause. They were all coming to show their support for the fight against HIV/AIDS. I was blown away when we literally could not keep up with all the people coming to the registration table. I was baffled - amazed that hundreds of people were showing up to walk. I saw some of my clients, which made me so happy and proud. They were there to stand up for themselves and their friends, to say that HIV will not define them, and to show that they could not be stopped, that they would fight until the end. The people just kept coming, too. Every time I looked up, there were more people in line to register. Sure, not everyone had raised money to support the work of agencies like mine. But that did not matter to me. What struck me was the number of folks who had shown up; who had decided that HIV/AIDS is an issue they care about; who made up their minds to walk in solidarity with those that have been lost to AIDS and those who are living with this virus. There was this one group of people who all had a shirt on with the picture of a man on it, below which were listed the dates of his birth and his death. On the back it said, "AIDS may have taken your body, but your spirit lives on through each of us." 

That's when it became real to me. The negativity in my mind disappeared. There were no protesters there to stop us. And even if there were, it wouldn't have mattered. The political battles were put aside. All that mattered in those moments was the reason why everyone was there - to continue the fight; to show others that HIV/AIDS is a cause worth fighting for; and to walk with those living with the virus and in honor of those that have been lost. As the pair of empty shoes was brought on stage and we all paused for a moment to "Remember those lost, those living, and those we need to protect," tears began to fill my eyes. My passion was fueled even more by the hundreds of people gathered there that Saturday. It was a great reminder that there are many people willing to fight to end this epidemic, willing to keep their heads held high, even willing to open up their minds. This state may be conservative and a lack of understanding surely exists, but in those moments, none of that mattered any longer. I was proven wrong and that was the greatest thing I have learned here in Raleigh. There is hope - hope that this epidemic will come to an end and that one day, there will be no more names to add to our lists.