Democratic presidential candidate Hillary Clinton tonight issued a long statement about HIV/AIDS, in response to the uproar over mistaken comments she made at Nancy Reagan’s funeral on Friday.
At the funeral, Clinton told MSNBC that Nancy and Ronald Reagan helped start a national conversation about HIV/AIDS. Hillary retracted the statement and apologized a few hours later, saying she confused Nancy Reagan’s legacy on stem cells (in which she did take a courageous stand) with her record on AIDS.
In fact, the Reagan administration dropped the ball on the AIDS epidemic — Reagan refused to even mention the disease for years — and Nancy Reagan herself turned away a deathbed request from her longtime friend Rock Hudson, who was then dying from complications related to AIDS.
When I first watched Clinton’s statement yesterday I was mad. Oh hell, I was furious. I only lost one friend to HIV in 1991, my friend Paul Clark who helped me come out, and was the inspiration of much of my political work over the past two decades. But I have friends who lost far more. And I just couldn’t understand how Hillary could say that the Reagans were some kind of AIDS heroes. Why would she say that?
But this morning I woke up, thought more about it, and I wasn’t angry any longer — simply because Hillary’s comments didn’t make sense. She’s not Rush Limbaugh. She has an excellent record on LGBT rights. She has along LGBT action plan on her campaign site, that includes a lot about AIDS, so she clearly cares about the issue. (There’s nothing about HIV/AIDS on Sanders’ much-shorter LGBT page.) So why would she say something so stupid? Was she trying to woo GOP voters, pulling a Sista Souljah on us over HIV? Not only was that unlikely, but she immediately repudiated the comments and apologized — that’s not something you do if the comments were coldly calculated to woo the other side of the aisle.
The only explanation that makes sense is that she screwed up. She misspoke. She was tired. She was sick. She was asked a question she didn’t know the answer to. Or that she simply got confused. There is no explanation that makes sense other than this. Or else, as I noted, she wouldn’t have immediately apologized. She would have stuck to her guns. She would have given some lame defense. And she didn’t. She fessed up and asked forgiveness.
It’s been a bad week for Democratic presidential candidates. Yesterday, Hillary Clinton suggested that the Reagans were good on AIDS, seriously ticking off the gays. While only days before, Bernie Sanders claimed that white people have never experienced poverty, and that most African-Americans come from the ghetto. So if we’re going to write off Hillary as a homophobe, then we need to equally write off Bernie as a racist. And since I have no interest in seeing President Trump sworn in next January, I’m willing to call it a draw.
Yesterday, at Nancy Reagan’s funeral, I said something inaccurate when speaking about the Reagans’ record on HIV and AIDS. Since then, I’ve heard from countless people who were devastated by the loss of friends and loved ones, and hurt and disappointed by what I said. As someone who has also lost friends and loved ones to AIDS, I understand why. I made a mistake, plain and simple.
I want to use this opportunity to talk not only about where we’ve come from, but where we must go in the fight against HIV and AIDS.
To be clear, the Reagans did not start a national conversation about HIV and AIDS. That distinction belongs to generations of brave lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people, along with straight allies, who started not just a conversation but a movement that continues to this day.
The AIDS crisis in America began as a quiet, deadly epidemic. Because of discrimination and disregard, it remained that way for far too long. When many in positions of power turned a blind eye, it was groups like ACT UP, Gay Men’s Health Crisis and others that came forward to shatter the silence — because as they reminded us again and again, Silence = Death. They organized and marched, held die-ins on the steps of city halls and vigils in the streets. They fought alongside a few courageous voices in Washington, like U.S. Representative Henry Waxman, who spoke out from the floor of Congress.
Then there were all the people whose names we don’t often hear today — the unsung heroes who fought on the front lines of the crisis, from hospital wards and bedsides, some with their last breath. Slowly, too slowly, ignorance was crowded out by information. People who had once closed their eyes opened their hearts.
If not for those advocates, activists, and ordinary, heroic people, we would not be where we are in preventing and treating HIV and AIDS. Their courage — and their refusal to accept silence as the status quo — saved lives.
We’ve come a long way. But we still have work to do to eradicate this disease for good and to erase the stigma that is an echo of a shameful and painful period in our country’s history.
This issue matters to me deeply. And I’ve always tried to do my part in the fight against this disease, and the stigma and pain that accompanies it. At the 1992 Democratic National Convention, when my husband accepted the nomination for president, we marked a break with the past by having two HIV-positive speakers — the first time that ever happened at a national convention. As First Lady, I brought together world leaders to strategize and coordinate efforts to take on HIV and AIDS around the world. In the Senate, I put forward legislation to expand global AIDS research and assistance and to increase prevention and education, and I proudly voted for the creation of PEPFAR and to defend and protect the Ryan White Act. And as secretary of state, I launched a campaign to usher in an AIDS-free generation through prevention and treatment, targeting the populations at greatest risk of contracting HIV.
The AIDS crisis looks very different today. There are more options for treatment and prevention than ever before. More people with HIV are leading full and happy lives. But HIV and AIDS are still with us. They continue to disproportionately impact communities of color, transgender people, young people and gay and bisexual men. There are still 1.2 million people living with HIV in the United States today, with about 50,000 people newly diagnosed each year. In Sub-Saharan Africa, almost 60 percent of people with HIV are women and girls. Even though the tools exist to end this epidemic once and for all, there are still far too many people dying today.
That is absolutely inexcusable.
I believe there’s even more we can — and must — do together. For starters, let’s continue to increase HIV and AIDS research and invest in the promising innovations that research is producing. Medications like PrEP are proving effective in preventing HIV infection; we should expand access to that drug for everyone, including at-risk populations. We should call on Republican governors to put people’s health and well-being ahead of politics and extend Medicaid, which would provide health care to those with HIV and AIDS.
We should call on states to reform outdated and stigmatizing HIV criminalization laws. We should increase global funding for HIV and AIDS prevention and treatment. And we should cap out-of-pocket expenses and drug costs—and hold companies like Turing and Valeant accountable when they attempt to gouge patients by jacking up the price of lifesaving medications.
We’re still surrounded by memories of loved ones lost and lives cut short. But we’re also surrounded by survivors who are fighting harder than ever. We owe it to them and to future generations to continue that fight together. For the first time, an AIDS-free generation is in sight. As president, I promise you that I will not let up until we reach that goal. We will not leave anyone behind.
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