Opinions
Walking among HIV’s dead at Congressional Cemetery
Look closely at the tombstones for a World AIDS Day history lesson
D.C.’s historic Congressional Cemetery is the final resting place for many single men who died between the early-‘80s and mid-’90s, between the ages of 25 and 55. (Washington Blade photo by Damien Salas)
By NATHAN A. PAXTON
I encounter the HIV epidemic in unexpected places, particularly when I take my dachshunds out for a walk.
I live near the Historic Congressional Cemetery in Washington, D.C., and one of the programs of the cemetery allows some of us to walk our dogs among graves of the well known and almost anonymous. The graves of J. Edgar Hoover, Elbridge Gerry (he of the “gerrymander”) and John Philip Sousa get most of the attention.
In quieter ways, I can read the toll of the killing years among gay men in Washington. Most often, the signs are demographic: single men, not buried in a family plot, who died between the early-‘80s and mid-’90s, between the ages of 25 and 55. Sometimes I’ll find these graves in clusters, as if friends and lovers wanted to share proximity in death as in life. Often, though, I will find these graves by themselves, and I wonder what story lies behind the solitariness.
Some graves proclaim their gayness loud and proud, like that of Leonard Matlovich, the first active duty member of the armed forces to challenge the ban on gay and lesbian people serving in the military. Another mentions being a “proud gay educator.” Once you know what to look for, you see these men everywhere. As Walter and Russell sniff and bound jauntily among the headstones, the three of us walk among HIV’s dead, just as we walk among Union and Confederate dead.
I study the politics of epidemics, especially HIV, and it’s often said that one’s research manifests one’s own demons. My own years of research on the development of different countries’ HIV/AIDS policies stemmed, I came to see, from a personal recognition, as much as intellectual motivations.
But for the accident of the year in which I was born, it is quite probable that—as a gay man in America—I would not have been alive to do my work and live my life. HIV, first understood as AIDS, made its first recognized appearance in gay men, and it is often still thought of as a “gay disease,” here in the United States and in the developing countries I study.
Had I been born just a few years earlier, I would be smack in the midst of that generation that first showed the evidence of one of the worst plagues in human history. It is quite probable that I would now be dead.
Living in the San Francisco Bay Area in the late ’90s, it was hard not to notice that gay men between 40 and 60 were sometimes rare, even missing. Friends who had been living there less than 10 years earlier told stories: My friend Billy spoke of attending two memorials a weekend for months on end; Len remembered wearing full sterile garb to visit dying friends in the hospital in 1982; and people at my church, gay and straight, remembered constant care rotas for a changing and diminishing set of friends and lovers. Len, a retired professor, told me that caring for his ailing mother in the late 1970s kept him home and out of the bars: “That’s probably what kept me alive.”
As a social scientist, I think I have a pretty good understanding of the probabilities behind many everyday actions and circumstances. It is sobering to realize that only a matter of years may separate one from the near-certainty of the disease. Even now, I accept as normal that some of my friends have not escaped the laws of probabilities and plagues. Friends of mine speak of a time in their lives when they could count more friends and lovers who were dead than alive.
Each Dec. 1 is World AIDS Day, and we generally don’t much mark the day here in the United States. For many folks, this titanic killer has become a “mere” chronic disease, thanks to the antiretroviral cocktail therapies available to us. As a result, gay men, for example, have been able to turn their social and political efforts toward a variety of other issues: marriage, employment protection, open military service.
We are hardly out of the woods, even in the United States. Recent CDC reports indicate that unprotected anal sex among gay men in America has increased 20 percent since 2005. The same trend has occurred in several other Western countries. While amazing progress has occurred in sub-Saharan Africa, HIV infections and AIDS deaths are on the rise in East Asia, Eastern Europe and Central Asia, and the Middle East and North Africa.
Even while MSM are the most-affected group in the United States and other developed countries, the most common type of HIV-infected person in the world today is a young woman of African descent. The epidemic varies greatly and remains consistent in its pervasive burrowing into those at the margins of our cultures: sexual minorities, drug users, women, sex workers and black people.
UNAIDS will tout good news this Dec. 1. The rate of annual new infections has decreased all over the world, falling by a third over the last decade. New infections and deaths are down in many regions and countries, including many of those most affected, in the Caribbean and sub-Saharan Africa. Treatment access has increased dramatically in this last decade. ARVs have transformed from global luxury to what scholars Joshua Busby and Ethan Kapstein have called “merit goods” — goods whose consumers assert they have a basic moral right to have, like lifesaving drugs once priced too high to consider providing on a mass basis throughout the developing world.
There will also be bad news. Men who have sex with men are 13 times more likely to be living with the disease. In east Asia and the Middle East, the number of infections is on the rise. Sexual behavior has become more risky in many places, with increasing numbers of partners and less consistent condom use. There are still more than 35 million people — roughly the population of California — infected with the virus.
Most of the people who have died or will die from AIDS have not been and will not be obvious to those of us who walk in cemeteries, with or without canine companions. The statistics of their deaths won’t reveal the manner of that death so easily. We will not be able to tell who the African-American men and women who bear some of the highest burdens in this country were. There will be little evidence in their cemeteries of the widespread injection drug use in Eastern Europe and Central Asia that spreads the disease there. The same will be true of sex workers, transgender people, closeted men who have sex with men and poor women throughout the world. We will forget them more easily, in death as in life.
Just as HIV has proven amazingly adept and complex in the hiding places it finds in our human bodies, it has proven equally adept at hiding in the bodies of our societies. HIV survives and thrives in our biological and social bodies, adapting itself to work quietly and slowly, doing its work at the edges until it is powerful enough to harm those bodies. The complexity of HIV’s biological place pales before the social complexity in which it is enmeshed. If there is an evil in any disease, it lies not in the vector itself but in what we humans do or do not do for the people living with it, that is, by the evil we have done and the evil done on our behalf.
It is easy to miss the first casualties of the HIV epidemic, and most of my human cemetery friends have never noticed the plethora of these dead until I point the matter out. In another world, some of these dead would be alive and walking their dogs among the grass and granite, chapel and colombarium where they are now buried. The HIV-infected and -affected of the future will be much harder to find, more invisible than the men that Russell, Walter and I have become familiar with on our walks.
Nathan Paxton lives in Capitol Hill and teaches political science.
Eswatini
The emperor has no clothes: how rhetoric fuels repression in Eswatini
King Mswati III’s anti-LGBTQ comments can have deadly consequences
In an absolute monarchy, the words spoken by the sovereign can swiftly become a baton striking a citizen. When King Mswati III speaks, his words do not simply drift into the air as political “opinion”; they often quickly turn into, sometimes violently, state policy. This reflects the reality of Eswatini, where the right to freedom of expression, including the right to hold dissenting political views, is increasingly being systematically eroded by the very voice that claims to uphold “traditional values.”
To understand the current crisis facing the LGBTIQ+ community in Eswatini, one must view it through the lens of a broader strategy: the weaponization of culture to justify the erosion of democratic institutions, the rule of law, and human rights protections. As observed across Africa, from the streets of Harare and Dar es Salaam to the parliamentary courtrooms of Dakar and Kampala, African leaders are increasingly using the marginalised as an entry point to dismantle civil society. In Eswatini, this strategy has manifest its most brutal expression in the king’s recent harmful rhetoric concerning sexual orientation and gender identity.
The danger of the king’s words lies in how the state apparatus interprets them as a divine mandate for persecution. Recently, we have seen this “Rhetoric-to-Policy Pipeline” operate with chilling efficiency. Shortly after the Minister of Education made public vitriol against the existence of LGBTIQ+ students, reports emerged of children being expelled from schools. In a country where the king is culturally and traditionally called the “ingwenyama” (the lion), the bureaucracy acts as his pride; when leadership suggests that a particular group is “un-African” or “deviant,” the machinery of the state, along with the emboldened segments of the public, moves to purge that group from society.
For an openly gay man who has dedicated most of his adulthood to advancing equality and dignity for all, especially marginalized communities, these are not merely policy changes; they pose existential threats. When a powerful leader speaks, they offer a moral shield for the dogmatist and a legal roadmap for the policeman. In Eswatini, where political parties are banned, and the “tinkhundla” system (constituency-based system) — a system that systematically silences dissent and favors those aligned with the sovereign — is celebrated as the sole “authentic” form of governance, any identity that falls outside the narrow, state-defined “tradition” is seen as treason. By branding LGBTIQ+ rights as “ungodly” and essentially unwelcome in Eswatini, the monarchy effectively views the mere existence of queer Swazis as a subversive act against the crown.
The most harrowing example of this pattern is the assassination of human rights lawyer Thulani Maseko in January 2023. Maseko’s murder did not happen in isolation. It followed a period of heated rhetoric directed at those calling for democratic reforms. The king had publicly warned those demanding change that they would face consequences. On the evening after the king had said, “[t]hese people started the violence first, but when the state institutes a crackdown on them for their actions, they make a lot of noise blaming King Mswati for bringing in mercenaries,” Maseko was shot dead at his home in front of his family.
The parallel here is unmistakable. When the king targets the LGBTIQ+ community with his words, he is aiming at the most vulnerable. If a world-renowned human rights lawyer can be silenced following royal condemnation, what chance does a queer youth in a rural area stand when the king’s words reach the local chief or school head? This is what I call “Chaos as Governance”: a state where the law is replaced by the monarch’s whims, leaving the population in a constant cycle of managed chaos that renders collective opposition nearly impossible. Despite strong condemnation from the organization I founded, Eswatini Sexual and Gender Minorities (ESGM), recent reports already suggest growing support for the rhetoric shared by the king, indicating treacherous weeks and months ahead for ordinary queer people in Eswatini.
The monarchy’s defense of these actions is almost always based on “African tradition.” As Mswati has shown, the ban on political parties and the suppression of minority rights are framed as a return to indigenous governance, the “tinkhundla” system. But we must ask: whose culture is being defended? Is it a culture that historically valued communal care and diverse social roles, or is it a modern, imported authoritarianism cloaked in the robes of the ancestors?
When he uses his platform at the “sibaya” (traditional gathering) to alienate a segment of his own people, he is not engaging in dialogue; he is delivering a monologue of exclusion. This weaponized version of culture serves a dual purpose. First, it offers a “neocolonial” defense against international criticism, portraying human rights as a foreign threat. Second, it creates an internal enemy, the “terrorist” political dissident or the “immoral” LGBTIQ+ person, to distract from the fact that nearly two-thirds of the population live below the poverty line. In contrast, the royal family resides in obscene luxury, acquiring fleets of expensive vehicles.
The silence of Eswatini’s neighbors worsens its situation. The Southern African Development Community (SADC), a regional organization ostensibly committed to democracy and human rights, has repeatedly allowed Mswati to evade accountability. By agreeing to remove Eswatini from the Organ Troika agenda at the king’s request in 2024, SADC sent a message to every authoritarian in the region. If you conceal your repression behind the guise of tradition, we will not intervene.
The call for freedom of expression, including LGBTIQ+ rights, is a fundamental human right vital for safety and dignity. It demands that a child should not be expelled from school because of who they are. It insists that a lawyer should not be murdered for expressing their beliefs. It states that a king’s word should not be a death sentence. We must resist the “politics of distraction” that portrays the fight for minority rights as separate from the fight for democratic reform. The dissolution of political parties in Burkina Faso, the attack on lawyers in Zimbabwe, and the criminalization of advocacy in Senegal, Tanzania, and Uganda are all parts of the same pattern. They reflect a leadership class that fears its own people.
It is time for the African Union and SADC to decide whether to uphold the ideals of their lofty charters or to prioritize political convenience across Africa. For the people of Eswatini, improving livelihoods and human development can only occur when the king’s words are limited by a constitution that protects every citizen, regardless of whom they love or how they pray. Until then, the chaos is not a failure; it is the purpose. The monarch’s word may be law today, but the universal right to dignity is the only law that will endure. We must demand an Eswatini, and by extension, an Africa that seeks to improve the lives of its people, and where the “lion” protects all his people, rather than hunting those he deems “unworthy” of the shade.
Melusi Simelane is the founder and board chair of Eswatini Sexual and Gender Minorities. He is also the Civic Rights Program Manager for the Southern Africa Litigation Center.
Opinions
ROSENSTEIN: Vote McDuffie for mayor of D.C.
A pledge to fight antisemitism, Islamophobia, homophobia
Kenyan McDuffie is the right person to lead our city forward in these difficult times. We are different from other cities, and Kenyan understands that. We don’t have a state to bail us out, and we don’t control all our own destiny. We are 700,000 strong, who don’t have a vote in Congress, don’t control our courts, or our national guard. We have Home Rule, but it’s not absolute. Congress kept the right to review our legislation and budget.
Recently, we found out how destructive that is. So, we need a mayor who will fight for our rights, all of our rights. The rights of immigrants, Latinos, the LGBTQ community, Black residents, women, Asians; all whose rights may still be at risk. Kenyan will fight for full statehood but understands the tightrope the D.C. mayor must walk to keep us from losing more control.
McDuffie said, “leadership is measured by delivering results, not rhetoric.” From his days as a union mail carrier, serving D.C. neighborhoods door-to-door, to his work as a civil rights attorney in President Obama’s Department of Justice, to his service as a citywide lawmaker, he has approached every challenge with the same values: stand up for working people, fix broken systems, and demand accountability from those in power.
As he has committed to, “focusing on delivering what matters most to D.C. families: lowering the cost of living, expanding opportunity in every ward, and strengthening public safety with a government that answers to all D.C.” Kenyan believes every resident deserves to live in a safe and affordable home recognizing housing remains one of the largest costs for D.C. families. On the Council he authored laws expanding the supply of affordable housing, helped direct hundreds of millions of dollars to preserve and build more affordable homes across the city. As mayor he is committed to expanded home purchase and down payment assistance programs for first-time homebuyers, and District employees. Providing additional resources for housing providers to preserve and expand existing affordable housing stock, while overseeing the responsible use of taxpayer dollars dedicated to building more. He is committed to creating more family-sized units in affordable housing developments to prevent displacement of longtime residents and ensuring families of all sizes have access to safe, affordable, homes. He will streamline the process for regulatory approvals prioritizing growth, and modernize zoning to increase supply, and lower per-unit construction costs.
Kenyan is committed to expanding access to childcare and early learning, recognizing D.C. families face the highest childcare costs in the nation. He understands affordability begins at birth, which is why he helped secure funding for birth-to-three, and early learning providers. He knows strong early childhood systems support both parents’ workforce participation, and children’s long-term success. As mayor, Kenyan will expand the Local Child Tax Credit to help families cover childcare costs. He will provide incentives to employers to help expand their employees’ childcare benefits, and repurpose District-owned space, to reduce providers’ costs and expand subsidized care in neighborhoods that have been historically underserved and neglected. He supports more mixed-use project development incorporating family amenities, including childcare centers. He will secure updated zoning to allow more high-quality home-based and neighborhood childcare options. Kenyan will work to provide more District-supported early learning, and out-of-school-time programs. Programs that will consider working family schedules, including non-traditional hours.
Kenyan has always supported strong public traditional and charter schools, both essential to our children’s success, and to a thriving, inclusive, D.C. economy. He secured millions each year for school and recreation center modernizations, nonprofit youth sports programs, and ensured our children are able to have safe passage to and from school and recreational activities. He supports Career and Technical Education (CTE) programs, which better align with workforce needs, industry demand, and good-paying career opportunities. He will expand access to these programs for students in every ward. As mayor, Kenyan is committed to expanding access to reliable out-of-school-time programming across all wards, strengthening literacy, classroom quality, and responsible technology integration in vocational training, CTE programs, and career academies for high-demand sector jobs. He is committed to programs to reduce chronic absenteeism with measurable public dashboards, and full access for children who need appropriate special education, mental health, and school health services. He believes while preparing students for college, schools must also help them prepare for good-paying careers should they choose not to go to college. Kenyan understands all this must happen if we are to close the large racial wealth gap in our city.
Kenyan understands how dependent our city is on its “Arts, Culture, Nightlife, Sports, and Entertainment Economy” and will work to reinvigorate all of those sectors, making sure our residents are fully prepared for jobs in each of them.
Kenyan McDuffie is best able to defend Home Rule and shield residents from harmful federal overreach. As a Council member, he always stood strong for civil rights and local autonomy. He understands how Donald Trump and the Republican Congress, have repeatedly interfered in our self-governance. As a former prosecutor, and civil rights trial attorney, Kenyan is ready to fight for all D.C. and has said he will make clear on Day One: “Enough is Enough.” He understands how to do this without putting us in more jeopardy. He has said he will issue a day-one directive ending MPD cooperation with ICE. He will make sure there is a civil right-to-counsel protection program for immigrant families. He will bolster the Mayor’s Office of Legal Counsel for constitutional challenges, working closely with the District’s Attorney General. He will strengthen the mayor’s office with regard to federal advocacy efforts, to fight for statehood. Until we win that fight Kenyan will work to expand legislative and budget autonomy and defend home rule. Kenyan has authored pioneering laws that reformed D.C.’s juvenile justice system, created a public health framework for violence prevention and intervention, and improved police accountability. His record demonstrates accountability and opportunity go hand in hand. He will work to right-size MPD through smart recruitment, home purchase assistance, and he will invest in community safety programs. He will expand the cadet program to build a pipeline of D.C. residents who want to go into law enforcement. He will work to modernize the 911 and 311 systems for faster response and transparency. And he will add more neighborhood-based prevention pilots to take an “All hands-on deck” approach to crime.
For all these reasons and more, I support Kenyan McDuffie. One of those more, is his response to the growing antisemitism, Islamophobia, transphobia, and homophobia, in the country. Kenyan said, “Leadership matters in moments like this. As your next mayor, I will bring people together across all lines of difference. I will engage with every community in this city, especially when it is not easy, or politically convenient. Washington must be a city where every resident — regardless of faith, race, gender, or identity — feels safe, respected, and heard.” That is the kind of city I want Washington, D.C. to be, and why I urge everyone to cast their vote for Kenyan McDuffie for Mayor.
Peter Rosenstein is a longtime LGBTQ rights and Democratic Party activist.
Tensions between the U.S. and Cuba are rising again. This is not new, but the current moment feels different. Recent measures from Washington aim to further restrict the Cuban government’s financial channels, limit its sources of revenue, and apply pressure to key sectors of the economy. This is not symbolic. It is a deliberate policy.
From the U.S. perspective, the message is clear. The goal is to force change that has not happened in more than six decades. There is also a domestic political dimension, shaped by sectors of the Cuban exile community that have long demanded a tougher stance. All of this is part of the landscape.
But that is only one side.
On the Cuban side, the response follows a familiar script. The government speaks of external aggression, economic warfare, and a tightening embargo. Each new measure becomes an opportunity to reinforce that narrative and close ranks. There is no room for public self-criticism. The blame always points outward.
Meanwhile, life on the island follows a different logic.
The energy crisis Cuba is facing today did not begin with these recent measures. It has been building for years. The electrical system is deteriorated, poorly maintained, and increasingly unreliable. Blackouts are not new. What has changed is how severe and how constant they have become.
For years, oil entered Cuba, especially from Venezuela. There were supply agreements. There were resources. And yet, the daily life of ordinary Cubans did not improve. Electricity remained unstable. Fuel was rationed. Transportation was still a daily struggle.
So the question is not new.
If the oil was there, why didn’t anything change?
Where did those resources go?
Where is the money that was generated?
Today, restrictions on oil are often presented as the main cause of the current crisis. They are not. They make an already fragile situation worse, but they do not fully explain it.
There is a deeper, longer story that cannot be ignored.
The same applies to Cuba’s international medical missions.
For years, they were presented as acts of solidarity. And in many cases, they were. Cuban doctors worked in difficult conditions, saving lives and supporting health systems abroad. That is real.
But they also functioned as one of the Cuban state’s main sources of income.
Many of these professionals did not receive the full salary for their work. A significant portion was retained by the government. In some cases, they had little or no control over the money they generated.
And there is a harsher reality.
If a doctor chose not to return to Cuba, that income often did not reach their family. It was withheld.
Today, several countries are reevaluating or canceling these agreements. Once again, the official response is to point outward. But the same question remains.
Is this the loss of international cooperation, or the collapse of a system built on control over its own professionals?
Inside Cuba, the conversation sounds very different.
People are not speaking in geopolitical terms. They are talking about survival. About getting through the day. About blackouts, food shortages, transportation problems, and a life that keeps getting harder.
Some see the new U.S. measures as a form of pressure that could lead to change. Not because they want more hardship, but because they feel the system does not change on its own. There is a deep sense of stagnation.
But that sense of expectation exists alongside a harsh reality.
Sanctions do not hit decision-makers first. They hit ordinary people. The ones standing in line. The ones losing food during power outages. The ones who cannot move because there is no fuel.
That is the contradiction.
The Cuban government calls for international solidarity. And it receives it. Countries send aid. Organizations mobilize. Public voices defend the island.
But another question is also present.
Does that aid actually reach the people?
The lack of transparency in how resources are distributed is part of the problem. Because this is not only about what enters the country, but about what actually reaches those who need it.
Reducing Cuba’s reality to a dispute between two governments avoids the core issue.
There are shared responsibilities, but they are not equal.
The U.S. exerts external pressure with real economic consequences. That cannot be denied. But inside Cuba, there is a system that has had decades to reform, to respond, to open, and it has not done so.
That part cannot continue to be ignored.
I write this as a Cuban. From what I lived. From what I know. From the people who are still there trying to make it through each day.
Because at the end of the day, beyond what governments say or decide, the reality is something else.
Cuba today is under more pressure, yes. But it has also spent years carrying problems that no one has seriously confronted.
And as long as that remains the case, it does not matter what comes from outside. The problem is still inside.
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