The 1980s in the United States blazed in amidst a robust feminist movement intersecting with the growing “gay liberation” movement, which demanded equal rights for women, gay, and queer people. In Chicago, the first female mayor, Jane Byrne, is in office (soon to be replaced by the first African American mayor, Harold Washington); Pritzkers and Daleys are already staples of Chicago elite society; the art scene is eclectic and thriving; and the Bulls are about to get good. However, like in other major cities across the U.S., a terrifying human health crisis is beginning to take hold, one that will dominate the lives of so many and fundamentally alter U.S. culture and politics for decades to come.
For many, the health crisis came into view with a headline in the July 3, 1981 edition of The New York Times: “Rare Cancer Seen in 41 Homosexuals.” Shortly thereafter, the first few attempts at naming the new phenomenon emerged associated with reductive monikers like “gay cancer,” and later, “gay-related immunodeficiency” (GRID), before the medical community settled on Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome, or AIDS. It would be a few more years before the virus that causes AIDS was identified as HIV-1, and many more before the first effective treatments were discovered. By 1986, the life expectancy of someone diagnosed with AIDS was fifteen months.
Today, an HIV diagnosis is not a death sentence – for those in wealthy nations with access to quality health care. There are multiple effective treatment options, and some scientists believe a vaccine is near. But in that first decade of the epidemic, the loss of life was astounding, and the lack of public and medical support devastating. Many in gay and queer communities stepped up to help their sick and dying friends by organizing coalitions and advocating for better education, acknowledgement, and treatment options in the fight for a cure. Others were not out yet to their families or their workplaces, and feared (not incorrectly) that coming out could subject them to an onslaught of discrimination and put their lives and livelihoods in danger.
For lesbian women at the intersection of sexism, misogyny, homophobia, and racism, being ignored and invisible were perhaps the biggest threats to their safety. However, the many who stepped up to take a stance against discrimination and fear, forging ahead with brave compassion, made all the difference. When counting the nurses, caregiving citizens, and community organizers helping to combat HIV/AIDS in the early years, many were women, and in particular, queer-identifying or lesbian women. Often, they banded together to donate blood, provide meals and medical care, and offer a hand to hold in the hospital when no one else would come.
In Redline Collection, Kristen Joy Bjorge investigates these dynamics and realities through the lives of four young, queer women living, working, and finding love in Chicago. As they reach for their dreams and begin to find success and community, they are also confronted with the urgency of the HIV/AIDS epidemic, and the consequences of speaking their truths. Grady, our one male character, gifts us with insight into the greater, carefree American sentiments of a fresh new decade ripe with change, including shifting technology, iconic films and a burgeoning era of legendary sports in Chicago. He serves as a litmus test for our own perspectives, by which we, in this 21st century, may reflect on what we remember, or don’t, and how that informs the way we understand our lives and culture today.
It is impossible to ignore the parallels with the current COVID-19 pandemic that hit nearly 40 years after the start of the HIV/AIDS epidemic; how political and public denial slowed progress and fueled misinformation; how companies, media, and even daily conversations invented euphemisms like “sick” and forced us to reconsider who we share spaces with, and whose lives matter.
Much like the characters in the play, we still find ourselves reckoning with racial injustice and unequal rights for women and queer communities. Like them, we look for ways to continue and to connect even as a virus disrupts and destroys lives around us. Bjorge showcases our need for community and care with joy, humor, sorrow, and love. As her play memorializes and mourns those lost, it also celebrates the resilience and hope of those who survive.
-Mariana Seda
MA Theatre Studies, Dec 2021
This note is published in the Fall 2021 Krannert Center for Performing Arts program for the play, Redline Collection by Kristen Joy Bjorge.