It's been a couple of years but I still think about it. Like, a lot.
Ride to End AIDS.
I remember when I was contacted. A photographer friend, based in Los Angeles, wasn't able to do it, so he passed my name along. Marc Cartwright: I can't thank you enough for passing it along.
The truth was, I didn't know what I was getting into, even though it *sounded* interesting and wonderful and challenging and I was told it would be that and more from the press corp team leaders wrangling us bunch of creatives together.
You see, I didn't know anyone with AIDS. Wait. Let me say that again: the only people I knew with AIDS was a long-time friend of my parents (who I never met) who would disappear and resurface after years of being away. The last time he did, he called my dad and told him he was dying and that he didn't have any family that would be with him. He wondered if my dad could come hold his hand while he died. My dad held his hand.
My parents had loved this guy like a son. He was gay, too. I think that fact scared them—especially when I came out to them a decade ago. That connection—being gay and having AIDS—has some tenuous strands connected to it.
The others I know with AIDS I'm ashamed to say I don't recall their names. They are children. Slum-born. In the middle of Nairobi. Orphans, most of them. They contracted AIDS because their uncles raped them, or the police, or some Joe that told them that sleeping with them would cure them.
So, you see, I have no idea what AIDS really is and who it impacts. My exposure to it is/was limited. But after these 7 days of riding in a car with 3 others and documenting thousands riding to end AIDS, I'm a changed person. I'd encourage you to support and watch this incredible event unfold this year, too. Visit their site here.