A History of Queer Resilience
I was born into a time when being diagnosed with HIV/AIDS felt like a death sentence. My first sexual experiences were tainted by the idea that I might be exposed to this “gay disease.” Well into my 20s, every sexual act was followed with three weeks of anxiety and fear that I might die simply for expressing love. From a very young age, society told me that being gay was an illness, that something was wrong with me. The
stigma of HIV/AIDS was piled on top of that by a cruel, unfeeling government whose neglect and indifference pushed queer people into hiding and encouraged us to suppress our true selves in favor of fitting into cisgender, heterosexual society.
The HIV/AIDS epidemic of the late 1970s and 1980s was a massive failure by the government—a complete abandonment of some of its most vulnerable citizens. In many ways, it was a war on our community.
However, we survived. We lost an entire generation of queer family. Thousands died and will never even be remembered. Our community was torn apart by fear and misinformation. And yet, our people endured. The HIV/AIDS epidemic forced queer communities to become their own advocates, caregivers, organizers, and historians. Lesbians stepped in and cared for gay men. LGBTQ+ people built systems of care when none existed. The idea of found family became a bedrock of our community—and remains one today.
We now live in a time of PEP and PrEP. Antiretroviral therapies can suppress HIV to undetectable levels. Researchers are even exploring CRISPR-based therapies that might one day remove the virus from infected cells. We are lucky to be living in a time when such treatments exist or are on the horizon, but the stigma of HIV/AIDS still persists in our community, and there is still much work to do. Organizations like
Colorado Health Network have been on the forefront of this battle since 1983 (the year I was born). When they asked me to create a collection for Red Ball, their annual gala fundraiser, I was honored both as an artist and a queer person. My collection will be part of the Red Reception presented by
Purple Mountain Recovery, but we will also mingle with the crowd and walk at the end of the main show.
The theme of
Red Ball 2025 is resilience. That word can mean many different things, so I embraced that and created a collection of seven looks that focus on various facets of resilience. I was on a brainstorming bike ride when seven words came to me:
Legacy. Life. Love. Blood. Bone. Stone. Hope.
I repeated those words in my head like a mantra during that ride, and the ideas for the looks began to take shape.
Behind-the-Scenes Sketches
LEGACY: Legacy is a pillar of resilience in the queer community. Activists like Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera championed the rights of trans people and cared deeply for their community in the early epidemic. The AIDS Memorial Quilt, founded by Cleve Jones, and the artwork of Keith Haring are creative legacies that helped spread awareness and ensure our lost community members would not be forgotten. My Legacy look focuses on the red ribbon, a symbol representing the lives lost to AIDS and the indomitable power of queer resilience.
LIFE: Ask anyone who has ever cared for a sick loved one: life is resilient. I learned this when my parents fell ill. I was certain neither would recover, but they did. And even though my mom eventually succumbed to cancer, she rebounded and recovered even when I thought she couldn’t. As long as we have air in our lungs and blood in our bodies, we have the chance to create change and make an impact. I chose to represent life as a blooming rose—because like life, a rose blooms, lives, withers, and dies, yet ultimately lives on through it’s roots.
READ MORE: Bask in the Afterglow: A Fashion Show Fundraiser for the Center LOVE: Love is one of the most powerful forces in the world. It can uplift your life or break it apart. And love survives long after we do, living on in the hearts of those we touched during our finite time on this Earth. My Love look was inspired by love of all kinds: for our families, our found families, our community, strangers, and even the world at large. The look takes the shape of a heart-shaped diorama of a rose garden, pollinated by hummingbirds. Just like a garden, love must be tended if it is to survive.
BLOOD: Another lesson I learned in the hospital is that blood is resilient. It was cancer of the blood that eventually killed my mom, but until that day, the blood of generous donors across the country fought to the last drop to keep her alive. Blood also represents lineage and family history. The strength of our ancestors lives within us and gives us the resilience we need to move forward as a community.
There are three more looks in my collection, but I can’t possibly give away all my secrets. Suffice it to say that this project has given me the chance to reflect on my queer community and how resilient we are. And thanks to the support of businesses like
Queer Business Alliance, I am lucky enough to spend my time creating meaningful art.
Today, our rights are once again being questioned, and we continue to face threats to our lives and safety. But coming together in support of good causes—and taking care of our own the way we always have—is how we weather this storm and any others that may come.
The HIV/AIDS epidemic of the 1970s and ’80s is a permanent reminder of our queer resilience. We honor our fallen family every day by practicing gratitude and queer joy, by having the courage to be out, loud, and proud, and by loving the people we were born to love. The creation of this collection is my love note to my community.
I invite you to
attend the Red Ball this Sunday and experience it for yourself.
Photos by
Becky Duffyhill 
