I wouldn’t say I’d be wrong to assume most people would like to be remembered after they pass on. People may seek out being memorialized solely in the thoughts and memories of others, or in large monuments. But what about being a part of the world's largest community folk art project?
The AIDS crisis was one of the largest tragedies to impact the queer community. It created further stigma around the culture that was being isolated from the rest of the world, as many straight individuals had misconceptions about AIDS and believed they could catch it with contact. It was extremely stigmatized as the "gay plague," with figureheads using the disease as moral judgment. Many AIDS patients were also ignored by government entities. Most notably, President Reagan did not publicly address the crisis for several years, pushing back critical research funding and encouraging a more indifferent response that was fueled in part by widespread homophobia and the marginalization of those initially affected (primarily gay men and drug users).
However, the community came in to support them when they needed it most. Lesbians were the nurses who looked after many of the gay men affected by the crisis, supporting them as they died without their family or partners. Many gay men and other queer people banded together to lean on each other at that time, creating chosen families of their own. Having embraced these chosen families, remembrance of that era took a unique form, often taking different shapes. Some took form as large acts tied to affluent standings, such as large funerals, but also there were candlelight vigils, pieces dedicated to late partners—such as many of Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ artworks and “Jesus to a Child” by George Michael—, art about the movement—like Keith Haring works—, protests, and more intimate actions for those who had passed on. Culture, art, and creation were at the center of much of it.
One thing they managed to create is one of the most touching pieces of art to ever be created: The AIDS Memorial Quilt (formally the NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt). It is a 54-55 ton quilt over 50 miles long with 50,000 individual panels dedicated to more than 110,000 individuals. In its entirety, it is 1.2 million square feet. Entirely made by hand for their loved ones, thousands of people came together to make AIDS victims who were forgotten and excluded by the government included in a project that has been regarded as the largest folk art project in the world. It is one that has touched many, even those who weren’t alive during the time period (such as myself).
The queer community and allies were united in grief, using the turmoil as a method to bind rather than splinter the community. There was a very unique form of unity back then. They were able to exist as a whole community rather than in sub-groups of sexuality and gender. People were able to put aside differences in order to unite for each other and the community. They stuck up for each other as lesbians, gay men who were AIDS free, and other members who joined protests for visibility and support.
But we’ve forgotten all about that now. Nobody stops and gathers community to make creative works for those who have passed as people once had, and those who do are usually few and far between. Currently, the LGBTQ+ community is going through a less severe, but prevalent issue: parts of the community have started to segregate from each other. For example, some are trying to establish a community that they regard as “LGB” without the “TQ+.” Seeing as more transgender people are killed for the sole reason of being transgender, other members of the community would rather turn their heads the other way than do something about it. They may refuse to acknowledge or do something about the event, or they may completely cut people off from the community. “Silence = Death” was a common phrase of the time. The same logic can be used here. If “Silence = Death,” then why aren’t we talking? The idea of being united in grief is now an unrealistic expectation, as people cannot seem to get past their own prejudices to unite for others. This causes meaningful memorialization and remembrance to completely exit the picture.
The quilt still manages to grow, but considering the current culture around memorialization, there likely will never be another version of collaboration for remembering people in such a way that the AIDS quilt was.
About the author: Oliver is a first-year cinema studies student at the University of Oregon. In his free time, Oliver spends time consuming both good and bad media, writing in many different formats, snowboarding, and bouldering.