Longtime Activist Cleve Jones: "Find a Way to Fight Back That Brings You Joy."
I needed someone smart and seasoned to talk to about the moment we're in. Of course I went to the guy who learned at the knee of Harvey Milk and who harnessed mass support against AIDS via his Quilt.
Hey there, Caftaners. I hope this finds you all well. I'm going to be honest: As someone who writes about HIV/AIDS, LGBTQ health and legal issues and public health generally, and who is very invested in those issues as a gay man living with HIV who is part of a diverse national HIV community, this past week was rough—for me and for countless others. I assume most of you followed the headlines this past week about how the Trump 2.0 administration...
first turned off our U.S. global AIDS program PEPFAR, which gets lifesaving meds to millions in other countries and is widely considered the most successful U.S. foreign aid program in history (they turned it back on quickly after global outrage, but PEPFAR's once-solid fate is now very much threatened)
then turned off our domestic aid program (federal funding freeze) before court injunctions turned it back on. (Here is a story I worked on this week about how the freeze impacted, and could continue to impact, the HIV community.)
then ordered the erasure of any government program or online material that promoted transgender visibility, DEI or pro-climate initiatives—resulting, as of today (Sat Feb 1) in the removal of countless CDC and other government health web pages about HIV, LGBTQ people, trans people specifically, etc. These orders are so vague and broadly written that government workers are taking down perhaps far more pages than they have to in their scared effort to meet the administration's orders.
And that's just HIV and health-related stuff. We all know the other things that are happening. We're watching this administration try to dismantle the entire infrastructure of government and social and human services piece by piece, and it's a very open question if we'll ever come back from this moment.
I really enjoy making Caftan a kind of respite from our exhausting, divisive politics; after writing about that stuff all week for work, I need a break from it as much as I presume many of you do. (I don't imagine many of you are pro-Trump—polls showed that LGBTQ people, like Black women, were one of the few groups that did not move closer to Trump in November's election; 86% of us who voted did so for Kamala. But I don't rule out that I may have a few Trump voters in my Caftan mix. Who knows?)
But the past two weeks, I'll admit, I've been wondering: whom could I talk to for Caftan about this moment in a really lucid way? And then I thought of Cleve Jones in SF, who you've probably heard of. Cleve, 70, is an LGBTQ and HIV/AIDS activist legend, having worked as a young man in SF around gay rights with Harvey Milk before Harvey was assassinated…
…then having become a big organizer in the AIDS era and of course the conceiver of the AIDS Quilt.
His political organizing and communication chops are extraordinary. I interviewed him a few months ago for this Poz magazine story on an effort he is moving forward with The Reunion Project to create an oral history of HIV longtime survivors. (There is info in the story if that's you and you want to reach out to be a part of it.)
So I reached out to him again and asked if we could talk about this moment we're in. I figured that if there were anyone who could do so coherently and clearly, particularly for an audience of primarily older gay men, it was Cleve. And he graciously agreed, and so while he was on a long drive the night of Tuesday Jan 28, we chatted for I think about two hours. It's a good convo with a lot of useful info, and I told Cleve I'd run it without a paywall so everyone can read it all the way through. Here is an audio clip from it:
I logged another interview this week that is much more in the Caftan vein—let's just say that it extensively unpacks the semiotics of both Donna Summer and Madonna, with someone who knew them both rather well—and I'll try to get that up in about a week. I resolutely do not want to turn Caftan into a political broadsheet. But I also want it to be of service to older gay men in a number of ways, and I think that at this moment, having one of our own who's been through multiple fights talk about what this moment is and how to get through it is really valuable. (If you want to go deeper with Cleve, read—if you have not already—his excellent, extremely readable 2016 memoir When We Rise.)
So here's Cleve...oh, and I’m running this Caftan without a paywall so everyone can read the whole thing. (Insert mantra here: If you consistently enjoy Caftan, please consider supporting it at $5/month…and if you already do, THANK YOU!)
Cleve, thanks for being available to talk as you drive. How are you?
It's been a pretty horrendous 72 hours. I'm still consulting for a number of HIV/AIDS service provides including San Francisco AIDS Foundation (SFAF), which I helped cofound. And for the last three days there's been this emergency network that has been convened mostly by the folks at [the global aid advocacy group] Health GAP, so we've had several hundreds activists from around the world on Zoom every day at 4am PST.
Are the PEPFAR meds that the administration froze being disbursed again, to your knowledge?
I don't know. We heard firsthand from people who run clinics in other countries who'd been told not to disburse the meds they'd already received. We all know for sure that we have a reprieve at this moment [from the demise of PEPFAR] but I'm sure you know that PEPFAR funding was going to end in March anyway because Congress last year, driven by a group of right-wing Republicans, renewed the program for only one year for the first time—prior, it's been renewed in five-year increments ever since George W. Bush started the program in 2003.
So I don't think anyone really knows what's going to happen. It's possible that the insanity of the past few days is deliberate—that the administration wanted to create chaos and confusion, which they did. It's also possible that it was just incompetence.
What are your gut thoughts and feelings about the moment we're in?
I don't think it's a moment like any previous. I think the stakes are much higher and the danger much more immediate and profound. So many of the old checks and balances have been removed. We now have a president who is completely unfettered and a Republican party that has gone full-on Christian nationalist that controls every branch of government. These are not Reagan Republicans. Even though he did lots of really horrible things, today he would be thrown out of the Republican party.
That is such a good point. Reagan looms so large for us gays of a certain age who remember his cruel inaction on AIDS and his hostility to social programs. How would you expand on how he's different from the MAGA crowd?
The Reagan crowd was definitely about keeping wealthy people wealthy, but within the parameters of a democratic structure. The current Republican party has no allegiance to democracy or the Constitution. They want a Christian nationalist autocratic nation.
I agree. Are you feeling exhausted? Despair?
I'm a little tired. I'm 70. I've got some ongoing health issues. But we don't have the luxury of despair. Anyone who's wallowing in that needs to snap the fuck out of it. There's too much at stake. I have a lot of frustrations right now. I am frustrated with our LGBTQ leadership such as it is and beyond frustrated with the Democratic Party leadership. There's no sense of who's in charge and what's the plan. We need bold leadership and a plan that people can understand.
I want to raise one point, especially considering the age bracket that [Caftan] speaks to. It's that we have a really dangerous generation gap. I know there's a lot of really awesome young people out there doing the work and stepping up, but not nearly enough. Part of this has to do with a whole generation growing up since Obama was elected in 2008. They have marriage equality and, at the moment at least, the right to serve in the military. There's been a lot of achievements over the decades and a lot of younger people take that for granted.
And I'm not trying to blame or shame! It's perfectly understandable that young people never experienced what we did in terms of being criminalized and also the loss of life and misery of the AIDS pandemic. They're on PrEP and their insurance companies are paying for it at the moment, so they're not getting sick. They have almost full equality under the law. So, as elders, we need to strategize about how we inform the young people of the gravity of the current situation and draw them out, elevate and empower them and encourage them to lead. That's what's most prominent in my thoughts right now. What can I do with whatever time remains to me to help the new generations survive the current crisis?
Right. What would you say right now to people who feel paralyzed with despair? What should they do?
Yes, people are frightened and there is a certain degree of despair. But most of the people I interact with on a daily basis even if they would not describe themselves as activists, are concerned and ready to fight. I think there's an understanding that many of the tactics we've used in the past might not be as effective as they once were. Do mass protests in the streets make as much of a difference as they used to? I'm not sure. Part of this has to do with gerrymandering, how electeds on both sides of the aisle tend to occupy safe seats. Republicans are only concerned about being primaried if they stand up to Trump.
We've also seen minimal impact, very little substantive actual change, from the hashtag movements. [He means movements that took place heavily online, such as #MeToo.] And I also think that people are concerned, and correctly, with their own personal safety and security in a way we've not seen before.
Yes, I was going to say that many Republicans are afraid not only of being primaried but of being harassed, doxxed, threatened with violence or even experiencing violence.
When Trump pardoned the January 6 Proud Boys and Oath Keepers, he sent a clear message to the extreme far-right militia type networks that they had the green light to do whatever they wanted. And the new [liberal/progressive] platform BlueSky notwithstanding, the owners of the major social media platforms [where a lot of anti-Trump activism has taken place the past decade] were the first this time around to bend the knee to Trump. So for people who are feeling cautious, nervous and confused right now in terms of how to respond—I don't blame them.
But I have a few thoughts I'd like people to think about, and for the elders to communicate. One is that we had social movements long before we had social media. We had revolutions before had radio or TV. So at this moment, with the possibility that the entire national intelligence apparatus is going to be turned over to a crazy person named Tulsi Gabbard, we should be thinking about how we communicate. What happens if we go online one morning and our Facebook and Instagram accounts have been shut down? How secure are our text message? Even though I'm a technologically challenged older person, I've been researching things like [the encrypted texting platform] Signal. Of course not platform is entirely impenetrable, but cybersecurity experts and journalist friends who've worked in conflict zones or repressive regimes tell me that platform is probably the best.
Another place to look for direction is the labor movement. I worked with the hospitality workers union. And when you set out to organize a hotel or casino with 1,000 employees, you don't put that shit out on Facebook or Instagram at the beginning. You organize underground so the workers can build an internal campaign for unionization, because they know that if their bosses find out they're doing this, they're going to get fired. So labor has learned to wait until you've got critical mass before you go public with your campaign.
I'm not saying that we should delete our social media accounts. On the contrary, we should stay on them and use them to mobilize things like letter-writing campaigns. The outcry this week that met these Trump attacks shows that if enough people write, call and email their elected reps, we can accomplish something.
So what would you say to the Caftan reader to do next? Let's say he's your age and he's living in Palm Springs or Wilton Manors and he's fairly comfortable, at least middle class, and he is really dismayed and outraged by what he sees happening but doesn't know what to do.
Here's my off-the-cuff list. First, yes, letter writing and phone calling can still have an impact. In my view, online petitions have no impact. But a letter or email to a rep with a return address is likely to be opened and at least read. Yes, most congressional districts are safe for their electeds, but there are some swing districts. We need to have an eye toward the midterms.
Secondly, those of us who are older tend to isolate. We don't have that much communication with younger people. So make a deliberate and conscious effort, if possible, to reach out to them. Don't force it but let them know that you're listening and that you're concerned about their safety, health and well-being. Not all of us understand the vocabulary they use, but we love them and care about them. So try to engage them in conversations.
Thirdly, I think it's very smart right now to create local— I don't know what to call them? Pods? Cells? Affinity groups? Look around at the people who are close to you geographically and start putting together circles of friends who are able to meet in person offline and are ready to deal with the possible disruption of electronic communications. That can help deal with rumor control and fighting misinformation. Start with the people who you really know and trust. Do a regular monthly lesbian potluck.
And then in terms of protests: I think there are times when they can be very effective. When the Muslim ban happened at the start of Trump's first term, when people learned that people were actually being detained at airports, I was among the many thousands of people who dropped everything and went to different airports and surrounded them. And I think that was very effective in getting the administration to stand down.
And then finally, if you're retired and you have a little bit of income—and I know that many of us are just getting by—I would say, give it to the organizations that are litigating this shit, whether that's state, local or the ACLU. Right now, the courts are our best shot at slowing down this slow-motion coup.
That's all great. To your point about the cells and the potlucks, one thing I've been feeling really strongly lately is the need to actually gather with people—both as a way of lifting malaise and bearing one another up, but also as an opportunity to talk about what to do, how to fight back. Like you said, even if it's that you set up a kind of survival pod or network with a group of friends, you're doing something, creating some kind of contingency plan for what's to come.
Yes. Instead of watching the evening news alone and despairing, pick up the phone and invite some people over for dinner. It will lessen the chance that you're going to have a stroke and also increase our ability to respond. Get together with the people nearest you and talk about how you communicate. Maybe you can all get on Signal together, around the table. A lot of people our age don't even know what the fuck Signal is!
And let's remember that almost all of us have undocumented immigrants in our lives. What can we do to help them? Talk to them. You might have someone who comes to your place once a week to do work or help you out who is terrified right now that their children will come home from school and find nobody home.
And I want to throw one more thing into this: I have neighbors who are kind and friendly. A couple years ago when I was dealing with cancer, they offered me really practical support. I believe several of them voted for Trump. Well, over the next two years, many millions of Americans who voted for Trump are going to be hurt by his policies. We need to take advantage of that and not gloat and bombard them with rhetoric. Let's pay attention to our vocabulary. Young people on the queer left have a vocabulary that is really quite inaccessible and often impenetrable. So we have to think about people who voted for Trump not because they're racist or homophobic or transphobic, but because they thought it was in their economic interest. They're going to feel pain as a result of that, so let's not rub their races in it or bombard them with progressive jargon. Let's find common ground with them.
Let's be gentle with them as they hopefully have a change of heart?
When their insulin prices go back up through the roof, when they realize that groceries are not getting less expensive but more. If we have tariffs and deportations that crash our economy, it's going to be poor and middle-class people who suffer the most. Think about it: Millions of Americans have healthcare preexisting conditions, which the ACA [Obamacare] protects. If they overturn the ACA...hello!
Cleve, I want to ask you a scary question: What if we go to the darkest place possible? The handmaid's tale place where we are all living in a kind of right-wing Christian lockdown or military state and LGBTQ people are not just fully stripped of rights but made state targets? What should people do?
Let's first address the possibility—I actually think the probability—of massive cuts to everything affecting LGBTQ and HIV/AIDS. This is something where the older generation really help younger people understand that when AIDS came, Reagan didn't give a shit. We had to do it all ourselves. There was no cavalry. But we did it. We raised the money and created the systems and interacted with pharma and marched and got arrested. Younger people have no experience with all that. We need to tell them that if they don't fight, we're going to see another AIDS pandemic. That's not hyperbole. If HIV treatment, PrEP, all the education campaigns are no longer covered or deemed to be woke ideology and therefore defunded, we're going to see it. So give money to those HIV/AIDS service providers if you can. Or volunteer.
Now, as for the more terrifying stuff you bring up, everyone should have a valid, up-to-date passport. If it needs to be renewed, do it immediately. Also, if you have any possibility of getting citizenship or legal long-term residency in another country, do it. [Tim here: Check out this story I wrote in 2021 about LGBTQ Americans with HIV living long-term in other countries.]
And if you're in a longterm relationship and haven't gotten married, do it now, especially if one of the partners has citizenship or residency in another country.
Am I being paranoid? No. I stick to my belief that we are in 1933 Germany. That's where we're at.
Yes, I've done a lot of reading in that regard. Hitler came to power in 1933 but things didn't start getting really dark in terms of physically cracking down on Jews until 1938. My line on this is that I don't think it's guaranteed that we're going deeper and deeper into the darkness, but I also would never rule it out. Certainly not at this point if you look at the timeline of events since 2016.
Does our being in 1933 mean we'll get to 1939? I hope not and I'm not certain. But given the number of people in this country who apparently are enthusiastically supporting these mass roundups of immigrants, I'm very concerned. We're in an atmosphere of constant demonization. If I were a trans person in the U.S. right now, I'd make a plan to get out immediately.
And that's tough to hear because, as I'm sure you know, a lot of people, trans and otherwise, can't just up and leave. I feel like living here right now requires a kind of balancing act, staying in the moment and doing what one can to fight back and hopefully living through a political reversal, while also researching your options outside the U.S. and even drafting a plan that could be quickly put into effect. I've been thinking through my own steps in that regard. People also have to think about their familial, social and even, let's say, patriotic obligations here—to stay and fight rather than bow out. But the truth is that we don't know where else we could live, even temporarily or provisionally, until we look into it.
That's a really good point. We in the U.S., despite all evidence to the contrary, think we have the best healthcare system in the world. I have several friends who've gone to Mexico and have been able to get residency there. And they're getting their HIV care there, and it's quite a decent system. They're getting their meds for far less than they cost here. [Tim: I should note that most people don't actually pay the U.S.'s exorbitant sticker price on meds here. But the systems that do pay for them, from Medicaid to Obamacare plans to the last-resort AIDS Drug Asssistance Program, are very much in the current administration and Congress' cross-hairs.]
Okay, Cleve. I'm glad we've had this really difficult conversation but give me just a minute to ask you a few other things. For one, how is the HIV/AIDS longtime survivor oral history project coming?
We have a call on that coming up. A lot of people want to make it happen, but the events of the past few weeks have distracted everyone. But I think it's really urgent. I want the people who read your stuff to know that I'm determined to push ahead with this. I have a real commitment from a number of organizations to make it happen.
Good. And what are you doing to stay halfway sane and happy in these times?
Obviously, I try to take care of my physical health—meds, eating, staying hydrated. I'm also really doing my best to spend face to face time with the people I love the most. And I'm determined to stay useful. I think the best antidote to panic or despair is to say, "Well, I'm going to do something about it."
So, in terms of people asking, "What can I do?", the reality is that almost anything you can think of probably has some value. But it's equally important to find a way to participate that brings you joy, because guess what? This situation isn't going to be fixed in a few days, weeks, months or years. One of things I've learned over the past half-century is that anything really worth fighting for takes a lot of time. And then after you win, you've got to defend that win. Nothing is permanent or guaranteed.
Cleve, you speak with really admirable clarity and conciseness, as you always have. To end with a classic Caftan question, what are you most proud of in your life so far?
I'm proud that I endured. And why? Because I enjoy the work. So I say to people: Find a way to fight back that brings you joy and keeps you connected to the people you love. •
Bye for now, Caftaners…enjoy the rest of the weekend and see you very soon. xTim
I love you Cleve for all the work that you’ve done!