in the quiet corners of the queers, we are working. when we show them it's not so weird to wear a mask, when we take our drinks outside, we are working. when we mutually covid test and take some alone time before sharing inside air with each other, we are working. When we hold a group-vaccination outing, we are working.
when they plan a meetup for us by the lake, when they bring blankets and chairs and tables onto the grass, I know they are working. when i saw them at the pride event in the park, they were giving out free water bottles to the dancers. their sign: "you must be wearing a mask to take this water. i will give you that mask if you don't have one"- they were working.
I wasn't alive for the height of the HIV pandemic. I only know stories of how many it took from us. What it took to get people to accept it. What it took to get people to do something about it. I don't truly know how it is today, but I know that today, we do something about it. We get tested. We use protection. We take preventative medicine. I'm not sexually active enough to know how many people give it the respect it deserves, but I sure know it's enough to be visible. Enough that you can live a life amongst people who try to be safe. And I know that didn't happen without people doing the work.
And I'm alive for this new struggle. I'm paying attention to the steps my allies take. We are working, so that we can have a life together. so that more will feel like they can join us. So that the calculus of risk is not so stacked against us. I don't resent it when I see someone taking a risk I wouldn't; people are so scared of being alone. As so many of us are. We work to show them how to be together safer, so they might be together longer. maybe they'll work too.