A Never-Ending Conversation

Thirty-three days. That's how long it would take to view the entire AIDS Memorial Quilt if you looked at each patch for only a minute. A number of such massive proportion is hard to imagine when talking about death. But by 1985 in San Francisco alone, 1,000 people had died from AIDS.

Since then, the numbers have swelled, leveled off, and eventually waned, but the fight is far from over.

This Sunday, Cleve Jones, the man who created the AIDS Quilt will lead Austin's yearly AIDS Walk, organized by AIDS Services of Austin. "We've come a long way since then," says Jones. "In '85 there was no treatment, so AIDS was a death sentence."

Jones sewed the quilt's first panel for his friend, Marvin Feldman, after inspiration hit during the 1985 candlelight march for Harvey Milk. Many of the marchers carried signs dedicated to friends, lovers, or family they had lost to the disease. The route ended at San Francisco's Federal Building where Jones decided to tape the signs to the building. "As I was looking at the patchwork of names, I immediately thought of the quilts that my grandmother and great grandmother had passed down in our family. There was something comforting about the connection, something therapeutic."

Today, the quilt has grown so large that it will never be showed in its entirety again. Despite this, the quilt keeps growing. While death rates have dropped dramatically [in countries where patients can get medication], Jones says "we still have a long way to go."

As a reminder and an educational tool, the quilt has been a centerpiece for campaigns since its creation. This week there are several patches on display right here in Austin, including one made for the passing of artist and fellow AIDS activist, Keith Haring in 1990. Haring's art inspired the flyer for this year's Walk.

The quilt has also been a versatile tool in the media and against the government. "It helped people understand the humanity behind the epidemic," Jones explained. But in it's jaw-dropping size, "it was also a great political weapon."

According to Jones, there's been recent wave of infections in today's young people. "The stigmatization of HIV still exists, it just morphed. In the early days, the stigma was connected to homosexuality, today it's…" he paused. "When young people reveal they have HIV they're treated as if they're really stupid because everyone knows about AIDS, so how could anyone let it happen? But people make mistakes. Young people especially make mistakes, and now they're much less likely to get tested."

The stark reality is that AIDS has not gone away. "People need to be aware that it's still here and that it's also avoidable," says Jones. It's one of many things that can only change with a voice. "The more we talk about it the more open we are and the more progress we can make."

As Jones sees it, we face two big challenges: educating young people and caring for long-term survivors. "Those of us who made it through the Eighties are now being displaced by gentrification." Even in San Francisco's infamous Castro District "people are being evicted in large numbers. Some jump off the bridge, others are forced to move away to places where they don't have any support systems," explains Jones. "I've made many more panels since Marvin's – for roommates, friends, colleagues. I miss my friends. There should be laws to prevent this from happening to those who are left."

Many may also remember Jones as Emile Hirsch's character in Gus Van Sant's Milk. A movie, that without Jones, might never have been made. But if a biopic film was made about his life – and one certainly could be – Jones has no idea who he'd pick to play him. Though he jokes "It would have to be someone old!"

To engage in the conversation, join in with hundreds of Austinites on Sunday on the AIDS Walk. Registration starts at 11:30am at Republic Square Park.