Our Oral History Interview with Rashidah Abdul-Khabeer is now indexed and text-searchable at the African American AIDS History Project! Thanks to generous support from the Chris Webber Memorial Fund, we have been able to move forward with making the interviews for this project more accessible and usable through the Oral History Metadata Synchronizer. Thanks to Maria Santiago for her hard work indexing this interview—we’ll have more indexed interviews to share with you soon!
Our Oral History Interview with Curtis Wadlington is now indexed and text-searchable at the African American AIDS History Project! Thanks to generous support from the Chris Webber Memorial Fund, we have been able to move forward with making the interviews for this project more accessible and usable through the Oral History Metadata Synchronizer. Thanks to Maria Santiago for her hard work indexing this interview—we’ll have more indexed interviews to share with you soon!
The tragic Malaysia Airlines crash this week, and the news that at least six passengers of the 298 aboard were headed to Melbourne for the International AIDS Conference, has focused the world’s attention on the loss that people with HIV and AIDS around the world will suffer as a result. For some, the crash recalls the untimely death of Jonathan Mann and Mary Lou Clements-Mann aboard SwissAir 111 in 1998. The Manns warned early on of the coming global AIDS epidemic, and framed the spread of HIV as the product of social inequalities, rather than individual behaviors. Had the Manns lived, would global AIDS programs today look any different? Would they address the social conditions underlying the AIDS pandemic, in addition to offering condoms and ARVs? And how will the loss of Dr. Lange and those aboard MH17 shape the future course of the pandemic and our response to it, in ways that we can never know?
Dr. Simon Harris frames this question differently in a letter to The Guardian—why run the risk of gathering so many important minds together in one place, now that we have global communications technology? Can’t these meetings simply be held in the digital realm? Harris writes:
The overall loss of life in the Malaysia Airlines disaster (Report, 18 July) is the primary concern, but a separate issue is raised. Around 100 were scientists going to a conference in Australia. The number of conferences held worldwide is enormous, but is it not time to ask why such trips are necessary. The advent of large-screen TVs and rapid transmission of data and the spoken word mean it is no longer necessary to send thousands of people around the world at great expense often to the public purse (eg the universities) and at major environmental cost. People are already familiar with each other through Skype, telephone, email and the journals and, dare one say it, they are often an excuse to take the family on holiday. Now we have lost a very large number of people expert in the science of Aids. What cost will this be to those suffering from the disease?
For one, access to high-speed data is not the same everywhere; retooling international conferences in such a fashion could very well exclude those on the other side of the “digital divide.” But perhaps more importantly, international AIDS conferences like the one in Melbourne have given AIDS activists from around the world a space in which to meet, exchange ideas, and learn about one another’s struggles. Karen Timour wrote about her experience at the 1996 International AIDS Conference in Vancouver for thebody.com. She described the three-day “Community Forum” for people living with AIDS held before the conference in glowing terms: “The dorm bubbled with intense conversations, disputes and shared humor — living there was like being in the midst of a huge, HIV-positive United Nations.”
But these conferences have not only been uplifting personal experiences for AIDS activists—they helped enlarge the scope of AIDS activism, giving rise to the movement for treatment access in the developing world during the late 1990s and early 2000s. ACT UP Philadelphia was at the forefront of that fight within the United States, as they protested Gore and Bush during the 2000 presidential campaign, demanding that the U.S. government allow countries in the global South to produce cheaper generic versions of HIV drugs, or to buy generics on the global market. Speaking to Salon.com in 2001, Kate Krauss of ACT UP Philadelphia described the “searing experience” of meeting other activists who were dying for lack of treatment. Similarly, in an interview for this project, Waheedah Shabazz-El of ACT UP Philadelphia described her own experience meeting counterparts from the developing world, and the particular struggles they face:
I met a lady from Kenya–I was in Toronto at an International AIDS Conference and I met a lady from Kenya, and she was a village nurse. She went to school at the University of Kenya, but she worked in the small villages, and she gave out medication. And she asked me, “How often do you see a doctor? What kind of access do you have to your doctor?” And I was embarrassed to tell her how much access I have to my doctor. I know my doctor. I have my doctor’s cell phone number. I can see my doctor in the elevator, and if I need a prescription, before we get to the bottom floor, I’ll have the prescription. I have great access to a doctor, and I didn’t want to tell her that, because I knew where this was going. And then she said to me, “I go to the village, and I say to the people, ‘You must take these ARVs because they will save your life.’” She said to me, “What do I do when the people point to their bellies and say that their bellies are empty? What do I do?” She said that they share their medicine because they have to pay. And that they share their medicine, families share, because you have families that are infected, and they share their medicines amongst the family so nobody gets well. 
Doctors and scientists are indispensable to the fight against AIDS—no one could argue to the contrary. But international AIDS conferences aren’t only about the researchers. They’re also vital spaces for people living with HIV and AIDS to meet, learn from each other, and become advocates for their counterparts around the world when they go back to their home countries. AIDS is a global phenomenon, and these conferences have been crucial to helping shape the activist consciousness that engendered a global response.
 Waheedah Shabazz-El, interview with Dan Royles, June 5, 2012, Philadelphia, PA.
This week, Cathy Hannabach‘s “First Person America” class at Temple University discussed the Trans Oral History Project and African American AIDS Activism Oral History Project, along with digital items from from the African American AIDS History Project. Check out their post about oral history here.
The African American AIDS Activism Oral History Project is now on Facebook! Like us, follow us, and encourage your friends to do the same!
Stew Lauterbach or the Howard County Historical Society has completed an oral history project with residents of Kokomo, Indiana, the hometown of Ryan White. After doctors diagnosed White with AIDS in 1984, Kokomo schools barred him from attending out of fear of his illness. White became a national celebrity during his legal battle to attend school in Kokomo, and the town became a symbol of intolerance for people with AIDS and ignorance about the ways that HIV was spread. As Gretchen Frazee’s piece for All Thing Considered (link below) makes clear, feelings among Kokomo residents about the town’s reputation–and the oral history project itself–vary widely. Hopefully confronting those uncomfortable memories, and the historical legacies of both White and Kokomo, can bring some healing and offer lessons for the present and future on tolerance, equality, and justice.
Check out my guest post on crowdfunding in the humanities over at Tenured Radical! I’m a longtime fan of the TR, so it’s really exciting to have a post there, and to get the conversation about academic crowdfunding started!
Last week, I launched a Kickstarter campaign to underwrite some of the costs associated with this project. I had planned to transcribe all of the interviews myself, but that quickly became unwieldly as I added more and more narrators in an attempt to capture as many stories of AIDS activism as possible. Transcription is time-consuming, making it difficult for me to do it all myself, and professional transcription services are expensive, making it basically impossible for me to cover the costs on my own. I set a fundraising goal of $6000, over half of which would go to transcription, with the rest covering equipment costs and travel expenses so that I can collect stories from across the country. Please watch the video, donate if you can, and share with anyone who might interested.
by Dan Royles
I am sad to report that Curtis Wadlington, a longtime human services specialist and AIDS activist, passed away on August 9th. I was lucky enough to interview Curtis a few months before he passed, and he was extremely generous with his time and memories, letting me scan a slew of personal documents related to his work on AIDS education with Blacks Educating Blacks About Sexual Health Issues (BEBASHI) and the Philadelphia school system. During our interview, he made it clear that his Baptist faith compelled him to devote his energy and talents to helping disadvantaged people reduce their risk for contracting HIV, and to give comfort to those living with and dying from AIDS.
I feel extraordinarily lucky to have met Curtis before he passed, and to be able to add his story to this project. There is an urgency that goes along with oral history, a need to capture voices before they are gone, that goes double for this project. In the future, Curtis’ words will be available at the Urban Archives of Temple University to anyone who wants to study his work, or simply be inspired by his example, and that meant a great deal to him. David Fair, another interviewee, has generously shared his eulogy from Curtis’ funeral, which I’ve posted at the African American AIDS History Project. Philly.com and the Examiner have also posted obituaries detailing Curtis’ lifetime of advocacy and activism. Rest in peace, Curtis. You are already missed.