This morning I heard the news that the Robert Mapplethorpe residence on E. 17th Street would be closing by the end of the year.  To some of my friends and colleagues, this news, coming on the heels of the closing of Rivington House at the end of the summer, is troubling.    The Mapplethorpe Residence and Rivington House were opened to serve the long-term nursing care needs of people who were living with AIDS:  people who were hardest hit by an army of opportunistic infections that required intensive, lifelong solutions.  Today, the numbers of people living with HIV/AIDS in New York City and requiring that level of care has plummeted to the point that neither Rivington House nor the Mapplethorpe Residence were fully occupied.  Numerous theories and stories have circulated about the motives for closing these centers (Is the real estate they inhabit more valuable than the program?  Has mismanagement of funds created a situation where the cash is more important than the conscience?  Are people living with AIDS just not important enough anymore?), but I think there’s a different question to be asking.

Has the HIV/AIDS Industry become a victim of its own success?

That’s a dangerous question to ask, because it overlooks the human element.  There are still 50,000 new diagnoses of HIV every year, and despite tens of millions of dollars spent in prevention education and outreach, that number has remained fairly constant.   HIV, in spite of efforts to the contrary, is in no danger of going away, is in no danger of being cured, and is still creating challenges, daily challenges, in the lives of over one million Americans, and tens of millions of people worldwide. 

However, if you take a step back, and look at the epidemic from 30,000 feet, particularly in areas of the world like New York City where despite a slow start in the 80’s, have become places with amazing supports and services, you will see a different picture.  Last Friday, Iris House, an organization founded in 1992 to serve the needs of women living with HIV, released a report that its client base has a viral suppression rate of 250% of the national average, where 5 in 6 clients have improved health outcomes, where more than 50% of those with AIDS diagnoses have dramatic health gains, and where less than one in ten individuals diagnosed with HIV ever receive an AIDS diagnosis.  These statistics show tremendous progress in the war against HIV/AIDS.  We are looking at a population that is greatly benefiting from supportive services, from case management, and from education on topics ranging from treatment adherence to diabetes prevention.   When individuals are able to address their health care challenges and have the support and education to improve their own outcomes, they may never need a facility like Rivington House or the Mapplethorpe residence.

New York City and its plethora of AIDS Service Organizations are succeeding in their work.  No, there’s no cure yet, and until there is, we still have to provide critical support to people who may not have the resources to manage on their own, but here in this city, for the most part, there are options and successes.

Isn’t it the dream of everyone working on a particular disease or condition to find solutions that no longer require our services? 

If medical technology has advanced enough that fewer and fewer people need long-term intensive nursing care for AIDS related conditions, isn’t that a good thing?   And if they can be cared for in spaces that have a broader range of services, where broader needs can be met more efficiently (yes, I’m talking human efficiency as well as financial efficiency:  healthcare is a business), shouldn’t we welcome that?   Rivington House and the Mapplethorpe residence were both born of a time when no one wanted people living with AIDS mixed into the general population.   Rather than looking at their closures as failures, shouldn’t we see them as happy circumstances where isolation and stigma are no longer part of the experience of aging with AIDS?

It’s true that the residents of these facilities became each others’ families, and as someone who has performed at Rivington House with Lifebeat’s Hearts and Voices program, I know how close the residents and the staff are to each other.  It’s never happy when a family is broken apart, but in the greater face of the successes this represents, if that’s the greatest problem, it’s one we’re going to have to learn to live with.

I'm writing this post today in hopes you will support my candidacy for President of the Board.  More importantly, I am writing today in the hopes that you will join me in the vision for the Imperial Court of New York that I outlined in my initial platform - that, together, we will collectively develop a strategic, long-range plan for the future of our beloved organization.

In my campaign statement to the membership, I outlined my reasons for running - focusing on an improved "practical" transparency on the part of the leadership, greater collaboration with the entire membership, and a reinvigorated spirit of community for us all.  A link to my campaign statement can be found here.  

Although I intend to focus this letter on my experience and leadership abilities, I would like to start by further developing my position on transparency.   Practical transparency to me means that the membership of the Imperial Court of New York deserve more- more information, more inclusion, more understanding.  Opaque answers should never be given to legitimate questions.  For example, an appropriate answer to "How many tickets did we sell to the Ball?" should include a breakdown of how many tickets at each price point, including complimentary tickets.  Information about ticket income and ball revenues, both current and historically, is critical in planning for the future.   Similarly, a report on ball expenses should be a document freely available to the membership:  it's the only way we can build on the successes of one year is to have the knowledge about the previous one.  Likewise, the amount that we're giving away to beneficiaries should be projected shortly after the ball.  We know our outstanding bills and approximate levels of outstanding income:  we don't need to cut a check, but we should be able to tell our membership where we stand.   

None of this information should be secret, or even closely held.  This is all data that will help the membership feel informed, engaged and trusted to be a part of building toward the event.   I firmly believe that opaque answers push individuals aside and foster a feeling that the members don't deserve the truth, or shouldn't want the truth.  I believe that we do deserve it and that we should want it and actively pursue it.

New blood and a change in leadership are critical from time to time in an organization's life span, particularly in an all-volunteer organization.  Canadian Geese fly in a V formation, but if you watch long enough, you'll see the bird at the apex switch roles with another goose in line:  flying in front takes the most energy and can't be sustained.  Change brings new ideas, an organic ability to energize people and redistribute roles and tasks within an organization.  It keeps people fresh, both those who have served and those whom they serve.  It brings a diversity of skill sets to the top of the pyramid and keeps a balance between the creative, the organized and the popular.  We need all three types, and rotating them over the course of a several year period adds strength to the fabric of the organization.  Lastly, it's a sign that the organization is healthy and can sustain productive change, providing the opportunities for new experiences for all of us.

I am ready for the experience of being President of the Imperial Court of New York, and my leadership roles and previous board service give me the knowledge to aspire and succeed in the job.

Within ICNY, I have produced more than a dozen fundraisers including the 2009-2013 Editions of The Nobles Show, The Gayest Link, my annual 39th Birthday Party, and the very successful Dowager's Bachelorette Party.  During my reign as Empress XXVI, the 27th Night of A Thousand Gowns was awarded the GLAM Award for Best Nightlife Event.  I believe much of my success in ICNY is my belief that "Tried and True" is a starting point, not a stopping point for producing interesting and profitable events.  Indeed, many of these shows have involved a mix of ICNY and external performers, were held in new spaces which have remained open to future ICNY events.  For example, for NOATG, Ritz and I tapped three members to serve as our Executive Producers:  two of whom were brand new to the role, and one of whom had produced one ball (after only two years in the court).  The passion this new blood brought to the table, made all the difference in making that night so special for the entire community.

Additionally, I have extensive experience with the day-to-day operation of ICNY.  I have spent two different terms as a member-at-large on the board, one term as Secretary and one as Empress.    I have served for two years as your Minister of Protocol.   And, on two different occasions, I have served on the by-laws review committee- most recently at the direct request of Gary Cosgrove.

Within the Court System at-large, I have represented ICNY from Providence to San Diego and from Washington DC to Anchorage.  I have been a special guest of the Imperial Court of San Francisco for the 40th Anniversary Celebration of the Emperors and have ridden on the float with the ICWDC in their Pride Parade.  I have emceed two balls in Washington DC, out of town shows in Kentucky and Portland, Monarchs around the system have awarded me four "half" titles, and I was one of the first two individuals ever named "Honorary Citizen of Alaska." 

Moreover, my professional experience adds a great deal of wealth to my candidacy.  As I stated in my campaign statement:

Many among us have the skill sets to look at our model and improve on the good work that's come before.  And it will take many of us: fully engaged, fully respected and with a fully renewed spirit to do that.  Given the astounding growth of what was originally conceived as a grassroots organization, it's now time to implement systems and procedures in line with generally accepted principles, such as those practiced by the organizations we work with and the funders with whom we seek to work.

Over the last ten years, I have held the senior leadership position of Director of Development at two independent schools. Since 2011, I have been the Director of Development, Social Media and Advocacy at Iris House, a community health organization founded to help HIV+ women of color.  I have served as Director of Marketing and Public Relations at a performing arts center in New Jersey, and I have served as a board member of both the New York City Gay Men's Chorus and the Gay Activists Alliance of Morris County, NJ. I am a co-founder of the LGBT Alumni Group at The Lawrenceville School, where I am believed to be the first openly gay student on campus.

Acquiring the ability and skills to lead an organization like the Imperial Court of New York can be accomplished in a variety of ways, venues and non-profit environments, and I am proud to say, in the words of legendary leadership icon Frank N. Furter, "I have that knowledge":

• I have been on the steering committee of four strategic planning processes and have chaired various planning workgroups;
•  I have developed and implemented annual giving campaigns, some raising more than $600,000 that were 95% volunteer driven; 
• I have planned and executed a feasibility study and launched a capital campaign that ultimately netted more than $7 million dollars; 
• I have coordinated branding and marketing messaging between paper, digital and social media programs;
• I have built and grown the membership of a volunteer organization and kept members engaged over a five year period;
• I have represented my organization in meetings with local, state and federal elected officials; and
• I have managed teams of more than 60 volunteers in year-long fundraising campaigns

I hope you believe, like I do, that the only way to successfully steward an organization over a long-term arc is to ensure that it will continue and thrive through changes in leadership.  The Imperial Court of New York can do a better job, not only by mentoring future leaders, but also by giving them the opportunities to step up when called.

I welcome any questions about my experience, my ideas on how we can develop a shared vision, or any other issues on which you'd like to know my stance.

I am here, in service to the spirit of Community, Camp and Collaboration

 

Michael Barret Jones

Empress XXVI Witti Repartee

A few thoughts on applying to run for the President of the Imperial Court of New York's Board of Directors.

Where will the Imperial Court of New York be in five years?  Where do we want it to be?  How will we get there?  I have applied to run for President of the Board because I have the professional experience of bringing people together to help answer these questions.  As a team, as an organization and as a group collectively we can define a long-term vision for who we are, and how we can move forward together.

Over the last few years, ICNY and its leadership have done a good job of attracting more media attention, more celebrity attention and more general interest from the outside in the work that we do.  These are all extremely important to the long-term health of the organization.   This pertains particularly to Night of a Thousand Gowns, because as it is currently configured it relies heavily on corporate sponsorship to pay its expenses.

But is just having more media and celebrity attention useful?  It certainly helps, but are there internal challenges ahead that can’t be solved simply with more glitz and more glamour?

Some of the great questions that should be addressed are those of financial policies and procedures: “How much does it cost to sustain our organization?”  “What are the real costs of producing Night of a Thousand Gowns?”   And perhaps most importantly, “Are we giving enough away to our beneficiaries?”  As a board member, as a monarch and as a general member of the organization, these questions have never been, to my satisfaction, answered or addressed.  We need agreed-upon metrics to help us with determining this.

As the Imperial Court of New York relies on more and more corporate funding, we must raise the professional level of our business model.  We are an organization of volunteers, but that alone is no longer a reason to drift without a formal fiscal year budget.  We produce a ball where our budget discussions start with “what did we spend last year?”   We need a strategic, multi-year plan to help get us what we need:  more members, more ticket buyers, greater audiences and more money to give away.  These will happen as we determine the scope and role for the ICNY in its fourth decade, continue to build the respect of the community, and increase the excitement  our membership for our work. 

 Many among us have the skill sets to look at our model and improve on the good work that’s come before.  And it will take many of us: fully engaged, fully respected and with a fully renewed spirit to do that.  Given the astounding growth of what was originally conceived as a grassroots organization, it's now time to implement systems and procedures in line with generally accepted principles, such as those practiced by the organizations we work with and the funders whom we seek to work with.

As President of the Imperial Court of New York, there are three tasks that I would lead the board and the membership to undertake in the first six months:

Formalize a fiscal year operating budget in line with best practices and current accounting standards.  This should not be a difficult task, and will provide information to the membership and the public on how we use our resources.  We have annual operating costs (meeting space rental, storage, insurance, communications, etc.) that are known, and other ongoing programs (Hearts and Voices, Scholarship Funds, Event-based grants and impromptu requests) that can be better managed and grown if there is a fiscal plan in place to support them.  Ideally, an annual process would be put in place where a budget would be approved by the board in August and ratified by the membership at the annual meeting in September, the start of the new fiscal year.  As we already go through an annual audit and IRS filing, this will help formalize a process that will please funders, donors and members alike.

Formalize the Budget Process for Night of a Thousand Gowns, with all income and expense categories (including complimentary tickets, in-kind donations and cash transactions).  We have been giving less and less to beneficiaries over the recent long term, and any discussion of the ball and its finances must answer the question, “What do we want to give away at the end?”   Both income and expense programs have to be examined, and while the 28th Annual NOATG was an artistic and emotional success, our margin for philanthropic activity needs to be a driver, not an afterthought.  The action of creating and adhering to a budget will not only help to assure members and beneficiaries that we are doing everything we can to produce the best fundraiser possible, but also will show potential corporate donors how seriously we take the work and exactly where external funding will help.

 Develop a 3-5 Year Strategic Plan for the Organization.   At no time in the last five years have we done a formal, scientific polling of our membership, our ticket buyers and event attendees, our beneficiaries or the community at large to see how we’re doing.  To assure our long term survival, we need to get their feedback on what we do well, what we can improve, what opportunities we have coming in the years ahead or what challenges we face as we grow our profile and our expectations. And how we can all have more fun! I would convene a strategic planning committee (including board members, general members and college members) to develop an intense, focused program of work that would be facilitated by an in-kind external consultant and help provide us with a roadmap for the future.

 The creation of a strategic plan for the ICNY will help drive other conversations for the long-term, those of interest and importance to our current members, our lapsed members and our greater public.  The 29th Annual Night of a Thousand Gowns will have a more formalized budget and approval process, but on an artistic level, should not be directly impacted by a strategic plan finished in the intervening months.

As President, I would work to delegate much of the power and responsibility that has centralized in that office over the last decade.  The College of Monarchs has already taken on the duties of mentoring the reigning monarchs, and I look forward to a board that will look to them for recommendations and guidance where necessary. I look forward to strengthening our standing committee structure.  For example, our membership committee should recruit, engage, and support our members; likewise, our events committee can proactively reach out and help develop ongoing plans and revenue streams for our fundraisers.  I would activate a nominating committee to continually help develop organizational leadership and ensure a healthy pipeline for board and officer positions.  I would work to continue the executive producer structure of Night of a Thousand Gowns, relying on both experience and enthusiasm to keep that event strong.

There is a lot of work to do, and I hope that we can count on members interested in sustainability, growth and a new level of professionalism to join us in that work.   Ultimately, we’re here as volunteers to have fun and raise a lot of money.  If we solve some of the infrastructure challenges, that will give us more time and more energy to focus on the biggest parallel question:  “Are our members and guests having fun?” Believe me, part of the work ahead involves figuring out how to bring more fun, more frivolity and more fabulous to the every day! 

The job of the President of the Board is to ensure the long-term health of the organization and maintain an efficient day-to-day operation.    I look forward to working with a board interested in thinking forward, continuing the amazing work of our growing media presence, and working with the membership for a more transparent, more streamlined and more integrated organization.  We can work hard, and we can play hard.  There’s room for all of that.

There is a vision for the future of the Imperial Court of New York: and it belongs to all of us.

In the spirit of community, camp and collaboration, 

Michael Barret Jones
Empress XXVI Witti Repartee

So yesterday, the world exploded when Stephen Sondheim mentioned that there would be some plot changes to the film version of Into the Woods.  (See Playbill.Com's Article Here.)

Many of my friends immediately came running to me for my reaction:  I view St. Stephen Sondheim as close to deity as exists on the planet, and clearly, I was going to uphold their sense of moral outrage that there would be changes to this absolutely perfect piece of art and pop culture.

They were shocked and surprised when I said I wasn't outraged, and let me explain why.

In 1988, we were extraordinarily lucky to have the original broadway cast of Into the Woods captured on tape for American Playhouse.  This was well filmed, well produced and is an absolutely excellent record of the piece that Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine created in the mid-1980's. As such, it was also a product of its time.  So much of the subtext in it comes straight from Bruno Bettleheim's The Uses of Enchantment, but is also colored by a Reagan-Era fear of nuclear annihilation, the onset of the AIDS Epidemic, and the need for found/created family.  So, we have that piece.   Set in stone.  Captured in time.  Brilliant as it is.

Wait..Brilliant as it is?  Let's look at that.  The first act of Into the Woods is very nearly perfect.  I'm going to go there and say that.  Seriously.  Very Nearly Perfect.  It doesn't need "Our Little World."  It doesn't really need "To Be Continued..."  It is a gorgeous, completely plotted 90 minute musical in and of itself.  Act Two is a second one act musical that picks up the story, compounds and complicates it and underscores many of the deeper, darker themes that are introduced in the first.

But Act Two also has a problem.  The ballad problem.  "Moments in the Woods." "Any Moment."  "No More." "No One is Alone."  "Children Will Listen."  With the exception of "Your Fault/Last Midnight" two thirds of the second act are gorgeous songs that individually have weight and meaning and beautiful lyrics, but collectively weigh the fucking show down and make you go, "Didn't you say that?  Twice?"  We used to joke that "No One Is Alone" could be parodied as, "Sing this song forever/On and on again/Cause you now remember/It's Reprise Number Ten/"  Sondheim himself cut the verse of "Children Will Listen" to move things along.  (Sadly, I love those verses, and thank you Barbra Streisand -- yes I went there -- for giving them to us.)

So.  Sondheim is bowing to Disney to make Act Two less dark?  Good.  If it means that Rapunzel doesn't die (pity.) or that the Baker's Wife doesn't have an affair with Cinderella's Prince (huh?), then we simply have to see what they have in mind.  But here's what I have to say on that:  TRUST THE GODS.  Sondheim and Lapine wrote it in the first place.  They're getting a chance to rewrite it themselves.  If you like their work, TRUST THEIR WORK.  Of course, we may not love the end result.  I certainly loathed the changes they put into the 2003 revival (getting rid of the whole nice/good/right them?  No thank you, boys!), but it's a different time and a different age.  For my friends under the age of 28, you weren't around when it was written in the first place, so calm down.  Change happens.

In fact, change can be great.  The film versions of The Music Man, Oliver, Grease, Cabaret and Chicago are all amazing.  Some tweaked from the originals, some wholly reconceived, but all changed.  The film versions of Rent, Phantom, Evita, Hairspray...not really changed.  Not really good.

So what I'm saying is look, the piece was written to express the mood of its time and the original creators are still around and alive to update it.  Are they doing it because Disney doesn't want to kill off one of its lavishly branded princesses?  Sure, but you know what?  Disney is putting up the cash. No other studio wanted to, and let's face it. It's business.

Want the art?  Come on over some night, we'll drink wine and watch Bernadette, Joanna, Chip, Robert, Danielle, Ben, Tom and the rest of the gang do the original.    But on Christmas night, 2014, I know where I'm going:  Into the Woods.

I don't know when it happened exactly, but at some point in the last year, I seem to have become the reigning queen of New York's Leather Community!  I'm Emceeing Leather Pride Night for the second year in a row, will be hosting Folsom Street East with the fabulous Will Clark, continue in my role as the Angel for Team Eagle/Cycle for a Cause, and am looking forward to hosting my second Halloween show at The Eagle in October.

Wait, you say, how does that make you the reigning QUEEN of the LEATHER COMMUNITY?  It's not like there was a pageant for a tiara in the back of The Eagle.  No, it's true.  It's a self proclaimed title that I will happily give up when someone else demonstrates that it's their time, but for now, I'm happy to wear the invisible, lightweight and yet, sparkly as all hell crown that goes with the territory.

When I was crowned Empress of New York in 2012, I took as my personal style, "The Elemental Broadway Empress of Community, Camp and Collaboration."  It took me a long time to come up with those last four words, but those are the very concepts on which I based my coronation walk, my reign and my post-reign life.

Community is critical:  though Gay Inc., would have you believe that we are winning the battle for marriage equality (and the platinum band on the third finger of my left hand would serve as testament to that assertion), we are still fighting wars for trans rights, economic justice, bullying and gay youth suicide and other topics that still need our help.  Sadly, the "gay" community is more fractured than ever.  We don't presume to know someone just because they're gay, and there are so many options for personal style, happy hours and political causes that we almost NEVER run into each other on the street.  Until we do.  And are reminded through acts of violence that our community NEEDS to come together once in a while and focus on the common good.  

Camp.  Girl, what's a drag queen without camp?  Susan Sontag wrote about it brilliantly in her essay, "Notes on Camp."  (Yes, kittens, click on the link to read it.)  Somehow I've managed to bring a style of camp to the leatherworld that says, "yes, boys, I'm one of you and can occupy the same space in my corset, lashes, and HEY...nice boots!"   Seriously, the leather world and the drag world are exactly the same except for the definition of "lash."

Collaboration:  None of us can do it alone.  We all have skills, backgrounds, ideas and resources that collectively can make this possible.  It's why I help fundraise for Team Eagle, it's why I'm delighted to Emcee Leather Pride Night, and it's why the shows that I produce are so much fun:  collaboration between different elements.

I'm not perfect, but I am usually pretty thoughtful about things of permanence.  My style is one of them, and I take it very seriously.  But with plenty of camp.

So, that said, I hope you'll help me collaborate in the coming week as we celebrate leather pride at LPNXXXI and Folsom Street East!  I'll be looking for you to do your part, whether that's showing up fabulous or dropping $2,000 at an auction or both!!

xo

(Written and crossposted for Iris House's blog.  "The Normal Heart" premieres on HBO on May 25th at 9 PM.)


Last night I was privileged to attend a special screening of HBO’s upcoming film “The Normal Heart” in an audience filled with people working for HIV Services Organizations.  It was the perfect room in which to see this movie, because the audience itself brought with it the history reflected on the screen.

We are now 30 years past the events depicted semi-fictitiously in the film, and one of the most stirring revelations I had was this:  history has redeemed author Larry Kramer, GMHC founding president Paul Popham and GHMC founding executive director Rodger MacFarlane, who are the real life counterparts of the film’s Ned Weeks, Bruce Niles and Tommy Boatwright.  They were all right, and they were all doing what they thought they needed to in the moment.  When I first encountered the play in the late 1980’s, Bruce/Paul seemed to be the antagonist of the piece, which would always favor the author/protagonist’s point of view.  Today, however, it seems clear that even to Kramer, he understands that he was imperfect, and that Bruce/Paul was imperfect, but that they were both working on the same problem from different angles.

Kramer’s approach, and his need to keep fighting when he was forced off the board of GMHC, gave him the strength to co-found ACT UP: an organization that could serve as the angry voice of a people oppressed.  Popham’s approach required safe and secure space in which critical services could be delivered to people who were scared and dying: GMHC.  In the 1980’s, we needed both kind of organizations, and in the 2010’s, we still do.

It is the problem that still exists today:  How can you be an attack dog and channel anger and fear to get a job done when those in power require tact and diplomacy?  How do you speak out openly and honestly about your feelings without risking the delicate work at hand?   How do you yell at people for not doing enough when it threatens your ability to receive any help at all? 

Marginalized populations:  LGBT persons, racial and ethnic minorities, women, people living with HIV/AIDS, these groups have never been given any of their social advances lightly by those in power, and it requires the actions of fighters, of poets, of visionary leaders working together to gain those advances step by step. 

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. had it right when he said, "Freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed." He understood how to channel fear and anger toward a progressive good, and he was killed for it.  But in death, his power became even stronger and continues to inspire people today.  Larry Kramer has faced decades of character assassination for the same beliefs, but it is in his life and the fact of his survival that has given him greater power and the chance to continue the fight and continue the inspiration.

July 3rd marks the 33rd Anniversary of the first article in the New York Times about (what would become known as) AIDS, and yet, in many ways, we are facing the same problems:  marginalized populations being ignored by the mainstream power structure.  In this case, I’m talking specifically about women of color. 

The National HIV/AIDS Strategy (NHAS), released in 2010, defined women’s risk factors as mostly having to do with the activities of the men in their lives, and doesn’t spend much time or energy talking about women in their own right.  Consequently, many funding streams for women’s support programs have cut or been channeled toward men’s programs, consistent with aspects of the NHAS, but at odds with what we see in the community.  If the NHAS concept of Treatment as Prevention is to be taken seriously, then programs for women with HIV should be funded proportionately to the number of cases of people living with HIV.  Cut support programs for women, and an entire population is at risk for increased health problems.  Ultimately, it impacts us all, because once again, a virus doesn’t discriminate and unless we’re working to eradicate it everywhere, we won’t succeed.

People grew complacent as drug regimens turned an HIV/AIDS diagnosis from a death sentence into a “chronic, manageable condition,” and yet we need the next generation of Larry Kramers to start shouting.  We need more money, desperately, to continue programs that we know are working to keep people living with HIV/AIDS healthy.  But at the same time, it’s hard for those of us “on the inside” to shout too loudly, to risk offending those very people who are still playing politics with people’s lives.  This film gets that right: to win a war, you have to start one.  But there are different ways to fight a war and you need both brute force and intelligence.  You can’t have one without the other, and you can’t be both.

We’ve got the intelligence.  Where’s our brute force today?  The world needs Paul Pophams AND Larry Kramers, and especially an Iris de la Cruz here and there.

That was not how I thought I was going to spend the early half of my afternoon.

As many of you know, I work for Iris House, an organization that provides supportive and comprehensive services for people living with HIV, predominantly women in Harlem and the South Bronx.  On my way out to lunch, I got an urgent text from a twenty one year-old friend who happens to live in the neighborhood where I work:

"I need to get tested right now.  Where is your job?  I have no clue right now, I'm literally don't know what to do.  I'm shaking and just need a cigarette."

I was immediately thrust into a dual role of Mama Bear and AIDS Service Organization Professional.  It was just about to be 1 PM, the height of Iris House's lunch hour, so I told him to meet me on the corner, we'd smoke a cigarette and see what he needed.  I came back into the building, checked which of our staff members was on the testing schedule and went to see her.  "I've got a friend coming in, he's very scared and will be here in fifteen minutes."  Our staff member reassured me that she'd be gentle, and went downstairs to wait.

When he arrived, he was shaking.  I gave him a hug and asked him if he wanted to share what happened, and he told me that the guy he was seeing had gone for a test last Thursday and that it had come back with a preliminary positive.  Though they'd done nothing that we'd call 'high risk,' there was still a reason he needed to get tested.   We came into the building, our receptionist joked with him and tried to put him at ease.  Our tester came down to get him, and he asked if I could go with him.  (I do admit to pulling out my cell phone and trying not to pay attention as she worked through the questionnaire with him.)  He took the test, and we went back outside to wait the fifteen minutes that it would take to get a result.

He was still clearly shaken, but we talked about what either result would mean.  We talked about the window period and how if the result was negative he'd still need to come back in two months; we talked about whether PEP was an option, putting him on a course of Truvada as a precaution.  I told him that I wasn't sure about that, but thought that was an emergency course of action that needed to start within a couple days of exposure, but that his test counselor could answer that.  In a few short minutes, our tester came outside looking for us.  Just outside the front door, some clients were having a bake sale and had music playing.  Our tester was dancing a little to the music.  My friend turned and said, "She's dancing.  I hope that's a good sign."

We went back into the testing room, and she gave him the results:  Negative.  She showed him the test and explained what it meant, and then asked him, unprompted, "You seem to have a reason why you came in today.  Do you want to talk about it?"  He explained the circumstances, and while she acknowledged that the activity was generally classified as low-risk, she also commended him for coming in for a test.  She also told him he should come back in two more months just to be absolutely certain.

At this point, I was starving and so was he, so I took him with me to Subway.  (Mmmm, 12 Weight Watchers points!) and on the way he told me how much the world had changed in his eyes.  A regular test was no big deal, but one that came in a moment of crisis was petrifying.  He'd stopped shaking, but was clearly still shaken by the experience.  We talked about how he was going to address the conversation with his friend, but rather than coming from a place of anger, he agreed that what his newly diagnosed friend needed right now was not blame and accusations, but a shoulder.  He's not sure how or if the month-old relationship was going to survive, but he felt sure that he could be the friend that was needed.

HIV is still very real.  It's still a life-changing event.  When I saw how scared this twenty-one year old was, despite how knowledgeable he was about HIV, means of transmission, etc., my own memories and fears came up again.  "Back in the day" when I was his age, a test took three weeks to come back.  Fortunately we have technology today that makes the period of anxiety-ridden uncertainty only as long as it takes to get to a test site and smoke a couple of cigarettes.

I've sat with friends before when they've gone through this process, but I've never been in the room when the actual test happened before.  I've never had someone look me in the eyes and say, "I'm only 21...I'm just starting out..."  I'm seeing and hearing about so many people I know, or at the very least friends of friends sero-converting these days at a far greater rate than I remember for years.  I think scares like the one my friend had today are awful, but important, because in this day and age where HIV is being described intellectually as a 'chronic, treatable illness,' it certainly doesn't look or feel like that while you're watching the countdown clock on a test.  To a twenty-one year old, fresh out of college and with no health insurance, even the possibility of a positive result for HIV is a life changing experience.  I was glad to be there for him; I was glad that Iris House had such a warm and supportive team; and, I'm glad that he's revisiting what he does and does not do in the privacy of his own bedroom.

A month ago, I celebrated my fortieth birthday in a few small, but momentous ways:  dinner with my fiance and my bff, a larger dinner with some of my nearest and dearest, a piano bar.  These are traditions and expected behaviors for me, no one is surprised that my birthday ended at The Monster - it's been my birthday piano bar of choice since my 21st, when I didn't know any better.

But turning 40 has also put me in a place of saying, "Why not?"  Pursuing ideas and interests that have been following me for years, and ones that I'm finally getting around to doing.

Three days before the actual birthday, I gave myself an early present:  a tattoo of a dolphin leaping over my anklebone.  I've been talking about this particular idea for fifteen years.  The dolphin is my totem animal, my spirit guide since I was about 19 and had a spiritual awakening watching a school of dolphin at sunrise.  I've never had any doubt that it was a perfect match, nor did I ever doubt that I wanted for formalize it in artwork.  Now, I'm a redhead, and like many redheads have a very low tolerance for pain.  So, naturally, I wanted to put it on my anklebone, one of the places I was warned about as being a very high pain area for a tattoo.  No one mentioned that having it stretch back toward my Achilles tendon would be even worse!   But once the process began, I had to finish it:  only way out of a tattoo is through.  And I did.   And I love it.  Surprisingly, I'd never connected that with the fact that my drag sister Sissy St. Clair ALSO has a dolphin tattoo on her ankle. I'm not sure I'd ever seen it before, but there you go.  Now, we just have to get Ajax, ShotZ, Trinity, Kari and Ashley tattooed...what do you say, girls?

A couple weeks later, I got to play out another longtime fantasy:  I performed a full out (if not quite full Monty) striptease in a burlesque show.  Now, I've already written about that experience, so I don't need to go into it again, but I'm working on my next number already.

Last night, I faced every gay middle-schooler's worst nightmare and joined a gay dodgeball league.  Yes, dodgeball.  I spent more than two hours throwing, dodging, catching and having a blast.  Last night was "newbies" night, the actual league play starts in a couple of weeks.  I went in fearing that I'd be the oldest and the fattest person playing.  I was half right, but you know, 40 makes you fearless.  I've got an amazing fiance and other friends to love, I've been Empress of New York, I've accomplished a lot more than I had at 15, and I'm not afraid to throw myself out there and catch.  (Yeah, shush, you.)  I think I'm going to really enjoy this experience:  I'm not trying to prove anything anymore, I'm just trying to live fully.

And that, kittens, is probably the message today.  You don't need to wait until you're 40 to start checking things off a bucket list (because frankly, I don't intend that there is a lot left undone 40 years from now), but go with your impulse, get out from behind your inhibitions and mix it up!!

Hay.  Gittings.  Martin & Lyons.  Sarria.  Kameny.  Rustin. 
Perry.   Milk.    Frank.  Kramer.  Windsor. DeLarverie.

A couple of months ago when Edie Windsor’s case against the Supreme Court led to a legal federal recognition of marriage equality (limited, as it was to those individuals married legally by states), I posted a list of names similar to the one above.

I was sadly shocked when so many of my friends, who are peers of my age group, asked me who they were. (They're all linked to Wikipedia, so look 'em up and learn!)  I guess I’m one of the lucky ones:  studying gender history in college, a class or two in LGBT literature, being an activist since I was 14 years old.  I’ve gotten the chance to chat with Barbara Gittings, Frank Kameny and Larry Kramer.  But I’m terribly lucky in that I had the chance to know Jose Sarria.

The world became a little less sparkly this week when Jose died at the age of 90, but as the first openly gay candidate for public office in our country’s history, and later as the founder of the International Imperial Court System, he directly inspired tens of thousands of people, and his work impacted tens of millions more.

I don’t need to recount his full bio:  WWII Vet, Legendary Cabaret Performer, World’s Fair Entrepreneur, Political organizer, activist, nurturer and mother to us all.  You can read his memoir, “The Empress is a Man,” or any number of the obituaries that are running right now.   But I do want to take a minute to reflect on the man himself.

I met Jose for the first time in 1998 during New York’s Coronation Weekend.  Because I have a tendency to revere our legends and trailblazers, I confess to being a little nervous to meet him.  When I did however, I found  him to be warm, charming and just a little bit wicked.   At that point in his life, he would come East for several months at a time, hitting a number of East Coast Coronations while he visited with old friends.  When he was in town, members of the Court would often take him to dinner:  he was a fascinating companion and never seemed to run out of stories.  One night, probably in 1999, I invited him to dinner and stopped by Empress Coco LaChine’s apartment to pick him up.  We hopped into a cab, maneuvered through pre-theatre traffic and arrived at what was then one of my favorite spots:  Rachel’s, a small American bistro on 9th Avenue.  Because of the time of night, there was a line to get into the place.  I took Jose’s arm and guided him past the line to the maitre’d’s desk and said, “Reservation for Sarria.”  The host immediately showed us to the only empty table in the place, past people waiting at the bar and through the crowded dining room.  People wondered who we were!  When he left us with our menus, Jose leaned over with a twinkle in his eye and simply asked, “So Witti…when do you want to be Empress?”  It took a dozen more years before that would come to pass, but he was eager and willing to nurture the young kid, helping to build and ensure a new generation of leaders would be ready to step up when called.

We had polite conversation on a few more occasions in the late 90’s and early aughts, but then I took some time away from the Court System for a few years.  When I returned, and brought my partner with me, Jose had handed over day-to-day operations of the system to Nicole the Great.  This meant that he had the time to be even more sociable during visits, and he always loved holding court.

Mind you, with Jose, holding court was like having a conversation with a great-aunt who’d been there and done that.  One of his greatest talents was to make you feel like you were a part of his world, one of his children.  Despite having founded and nurtured the second largest LGBT organization in the world, he never lost his humility and never stopped his encouragements.

In February, 2010, my partner Ian Flagrante and I travelled to Connecticut for their ball.  Now , as much as I have a respect for our elderstatesmen, Ian has even more than I do.  He was very interested to meet Mama Jose, and she immediately fell in love with him.  For a couple years I was “that cute cub’s drag queen boyfriend,” even though Jose had known me for more than a decade.  Jose introduced himself to Ian in his usual, customary and wickedly exploratory way, and found himself at a loss for words as Ian introduced himself in HIS customary way.  They hit it off immediately and spent several minutes in conversation.  We had the fortune to visit with Jose more that weekend, and later in New York, took him to brunch several times.

In 2012, when I was crowned Empress of New York, I was disappointed that Jose could not make the journey to the east coast.  He was nearly 90, and beginning to suffer the effects of the illnesses that would eventually end his life.  Jose had a very special relationship with my Emperor, Ritz Kraka, and we made a point of sending photos and a note out to Jose after we were crowned. 

I was pleased and honored to be invited to San Francisco in August of 2012 to join with the Imperial Court of San Francisco at their 40th Anniversary of the Emperors.  Jose and I had a few chuckles that night, but whether I was projecting, or whether he was truly feeling unwell, his energy was lower.  He was as gracious as ever, but some of the spark seemed to have faded, and while I enjoyed seeing him, I was sad in the knowledge that it might be the last time.

Fortunately, the gods smiled on the both of us.  This past year in February, I attended San Francisco’s coronation ball, and Jose was in the rarest of spirits:  he was active, engaged, had more twinkle than an elf, and was full of good humor, dirty stories and memories to share.  I was lucky enough to spend a good half hour with him at the hotel, and was excited to be participating in the annual pilgrimage to Emperor Norton’s grave on Sunday morning.  At 90 years old, Jose was up and full of energy at 7 in the AM.  As queens 1/3 of his age moped onto the bus, there was Mama in full face chastising them, teasing them, joking with them and telling stories about past trips to the cemetery.  He proceeded to treat the bus ride as his own personal cabaret and kept telling stories and jokes the whole way.  We got there, and he hosted a continental breakfast, and then led the procession up the hill:  musicians, drag queens, performers.  My memory gets muddy when I think of him running the entire show at graveside, but if he didn’t, he was a full and active part of it.  More stories, more jokes, more jabs at his favorite targets.  He was having a blast, and we all were too.  The bus ride back to the hotel was more of the same as his energy kept rising and bouncing off a bus full of his children and grandchildren.  Even an hour later at brunch, he was still going and joking and jabbing and full, as always, of his unique brand of folk wisdom. 

That WAS the last time I got to spend time with Jose Sarria, Absolute Empress I, The Widow Norton.  But man, what an amazing man, what a great rally that weekend, and what an incredible life.  On September 6, I will be attending his state funeral in San Francisco and Jose will be making his final pilgrimage up the hill to rest beside Joshua.  Somehow, I don’t think it will be the final trip for anyone else.

Good night, Mama.  You broke ground and inspired us all by being who you were and figuring out clever ways to get around those who said you couldn’t.  We need more like you, but will take your lessons and your heart and try to keep part of you with us always.

So my lesson is:  when you meet a legend, don’t forget that they’re human, just like you are, and probably have some really fascinating things to share.  Talk to them, laugh with them, and occasionally, buy them dinner.  Your life will be richer for it.