Living
Castro catastrophe
‘We Were Here’ offers first-hand accounts of AIDS horrors in San Francisco
A vintage still from San Francisco's Castro neighborhood used in 'We Were Here.' (Photo courtesy of Film Collaborative)
There were angels in San Francisco.
But unlike in Tony Kushner’s two-part Pulitzer-Prize-winning play about AIDS — “Angels in America,” set in New York City in the mid-1980s — these angels were real people.
In the Kushner play, an angel descends to earth, as his fictional characters struggled with this unsettling new disease, the “gay cancer” as it was being called, an epidemic that seemed to spring from nowhere and then spread like a wicked wildfire.
In San Francisco it also struck like a bolt from the blue and purple unknown, its stigmata the purple-ish and dark reddish-blue marks of skin lesions — those herpes-like, cancerous tumors of Kaposi’s sarcoma — that began to dot faces and limbs and torsos with an ugliness that was unmistakable and the cause unknown. Right-wing televangelist Jerry Falwell called the lesions, which were seen as the defining illnesses of AIDS in the 1980s, to be the signs of Satan’s claim over sins of the flesh and God’s punishment for those same-sex sins, demons of a heaven-sent plague upon homosexuality.
“For a group of gay men, so into physical appearance, this was a disease whose very physical manifestations were horrifying,” says Daniel, one of the five people profiled in a new and deeply affecting documentary film, “We Were Here,” a gut-punch of a feature-length film by producer-director David Weissman, about the coming of AIDS to the Bay Area, and the human havoc it wrought.
This film is truly a moving picture. Co-presented with Reel Affirmations, as part of the 25th Annual FilmFest D.C. (now through April 17), it is playing tonight and Saturday night at the Regal Cinemas Gallery Place, on 7th Street, N.W., near Verizon Center. Each showing is at 6:30 p.m. followed by town meetings to discuss the film and its ramifications today in D.C. where the disease still flourishes.
Each one of the five in “We Were Here” is a witness, a survivor, and haunted in some indelible way by what they saw. Four of them are gay men (Daniel, Ed, Guy and Paul), who each contracted HIV yet somehow survived. One is a straight woman (Eileen) who ministered to the patients, as a nurse who cared about them as human beings, not clinical case studies.
Like Eileen, who appears to be a modern-day Florence Nightingale, each one is an angel, each able to say, “we were here.” Each is a survivor of the mysterious epidemic that moved through San Francisco in the 1980s with all the ferocity of an avenging angel, a grim reaper carrying off those who had sown such pleasure, but now so many of them faced death as a result.
Each is an eyewitness. At the skillful hand of filmmaker Weissman, who also earlier produced “The Cockettes,” a documentary about the campier side of the Bay Area, the testimony of the five is heartfelt and eloquent, bringing the kind of emotion that only those who experienced it first hand can bring.
Daniel’s voice is such an example. His voice is riveting, his gaze impossible to turn away from. He’s a modern-day Ancient Mariner come to tell us of how wrong things can get when bad things happen to good people.
He recalls that tragic time when no one could comprehend what was happening, as the virus burned its way through the carefree, almost heedless hedonism that came to the Bay Area after Stonewall in 1969, when hippies flocked to the Haight Ashbury and gays to the Castro. For a time all was well. But it was the sexual romp before the gathering storm.
Paul, who found his early calling in political action working with Harvey Milk, says, “I came to San Francisco with nothing but my backpack and my boyfriend.” He recalls that in the mid-1970s, “I believed that at that time in San Francisco there were nothing but crazy dreamers.”
Daniel went, recalling that, “I always wanted to meet a blond surfer but I was still in the closet, but then I came out with a bang,” in part spurred by being cast in the gay-themed play “The Boys in the Band.”
One observer, appearing in the film, puts it bluntly about that era: “If you took a lot of young gay men and asked them, ‘How much sex would you like to have?,’ the answer was, ‘A lot,’ and the sense was, sex is good, and more sex is good,” and after all, he adds, “We came to San Francisco to be gay.” Ed, who moved to the city in 1981, is equally blunt: “I was always in relationships, but they were open … My sexual outlet was always the bath houses and it was fun.”
But times were changing. In 1979, Harvey Milk was assassinated. In 1980, Ronald Reagan was elected president. The hopes and dreams of hippie hedonism didn’t last. But then, says Weissman, who documents it with clinical detail from archival footage, signs of trouble began to appear.
“People were wasting, losing so much weight, [San Francisco’s Castro neighborhood] looked like a concentration camp,” says Daniel. “You almost had to turn away, it was just too scary.” He felt haggard and haunted: “I was losing all the fat in my face and my butt — I would walk by a store window and jump, ‘Who was that?’ — I was skin and bones.”
At times death came with startling swiftness. Eileen, who chose to care for AIDS sufferers and then to work on clinical trials seeking pharmaceutical relief of the worst symptoms, says that in the hospital where she worked, “People were coming in with a KS lesion one day and were dead 10 days later.” Her own heart went out to them, but others shrank away in fear and ignorance, as some voices were raised calling for tattoos to be stenciled onto all persons diagnosed with HIV and some even called for packing them away into leper-like colonies.
“From the beginning,” she says, “I just couldn’t understand the homophobia that was going on and the fear of going into the [hospital] rooms.”
“There was nothing that unusual in that people are of course going to die,” says Ed, who speaks like a creative writer, a craft in which he earned a graduate degree. But in San Francisco, he says, “It’s just that it happened in a targeted community, to people who were disenfranchised, separated from their families.” But then a kind of miracle happened when people like Eileen stepped forward, as well as gay men who were not infected. In Ed’s words, “A whole different group of people stepped up and became their families.”
They got involved. Eileen joined ACT UP. Daniel fought his way back from depression and worked on the Names Project, which made the AIDS quilt.
Each of five was chosen, says Weissman, because they had a special story to tell, and the film delivers what they have to say with an emotional wallop. But more than that, he admits, “The city is also a character” in the film, which he calls “Very personal to me” and “a love letter to San Francisco,” where after some years living in Portland, Ore., he is now based. A commercial release is planned for later in the year.
Weissman, who is gay, was born in 1954 in Los Angeles, and never went to college, he explains, because he “lived through the hippie times.” He got into filmmaking in his late 20s. He says it was “something on the spur of the moment.” He took coursework at the City College of San Francisco, but says at first he never thought of himself as a documentarian. Instead, he produced a series of short comedies until finally, after “a moment of unexpected inspiration,” he made the 2001 acclaimed documentary, “The Cockettes,” about the Bay Area’s legendary theater troupe of hippies and drag queens.
“Some people worry that seeing a film like this will be a downer,” Weissman says. “But that’s definitely not the case. Instead, it’s a cathartic experience, healing and empowering.”
“Especially for young gay men today, who don’t know very much about our history,” Weissman says the film opens “a window about how we got where we are today, and the resilience our community has shown in the face of terrible adversity.”
Other gay-themed films slated for fest
The Washington, D.C. 25th annual international film festival event comes alive this week overflowing the Historic Lincoln Theatre on U Street, AMC Mazza Gallerie, Regal Gallery Place at Verizon Center on 7th Street N.W., the Landmark E Street Cinemas, the Avalon and other venues through April 17.
“We know for sure that people in D.C. are interested in films other than Hollywood films,” says Tony Gittens, who founded the festival in 1987.
Themes include “Justice Matters,” a cluster of films focusing on social justice issues; Global Rhythms, a special section of music films; Short Cuts, eight films less than feature length from around the world; and “Lunafest,” nearly 90 minutes of short films for, by and about women. Tickets for most films are $11, he says, and shows tend to sell out, so buying tickets online is the smart bet.
For a complete list of films and events, which include “freebies” for children and seniors, and to purchase tickets, visit filmfestdc.org or call 888-996-4774 from 10 a.m.-6 p.m. Monday through Friday and from noon-5 p.m. on weekends. Tickets may also be purchased at the theater on the day of the show, with the box office opening one hour before the venue’s first screening of the day.
In addition to “We Were Here,” three others have LGBT appeal:
“Circumstance” (“Sharayet”) in Persian with English subtitles 9 p.m. tonight and 6 p.m. Saturday at Regal Cinemas Gallery Place. Directed by Maryam Keshavasrz, this joint French-Iranian-USA production won this year’s Sundance Film Festival audience award. A young Iranian girl, still in her teens, Atafeh, and her best friend Shireen, experiment with mutual sexual attraction amid the subculture of Tehran’s underground art scene and face familial disapproval.
“For 80 Days” (“80 egunean”) in Spanish with English subtitles co-presented with the Embassy of Spain at 7:30 p.m. Sunday and 8:30 p.m. Monday at the Avalon Theatre, 5612 Connecticut Ave. N.W. Directed by Jon Garano and Jose Maria Goenaga, this Spanish entry depicts two women, one of them lesbian, who were best friends in youth, who meet again by accident 50 years later.
“Loose Cannons” (“Mine Vaganti”) in Italian with English subtitles screens at 9 p.m. tonight and 7 p.m. Saturday at AMC Mazza Gallery, 5300 Wisconsin Ave. N.W.
Directed by Ferzan Ozpetek, the films depicts a large, eccentric family whose patriarch puts pressure on the two sons, who are gay, to follow in the family business.
At my stage of life — “somewhere between 40 and death,” as the iconic line goes in the musical “Mame” — I want some pampering. A lot of pampering.
Luckily, for anyone who constantly craves a soothing spa, steam room or sauna, there’s the completely updated Mercedes S-Class. This flagship sedan is now so full of glitz, glamour, and gee-whiz gadgetry, it gives new meaning to the term “auto erotica.”
Does this make the S-Class a “gay” ride? For me, any vehicle that pushes my buttons like this one is a Kinsey 6.
MERCEDES S-CLASS
$122,000 (est.)
MPG: 21 city/31 highway
0 to 60 mph: 4.3 seconds
Trunk space: 19 cu. ft.
PROS: Exceptional comfort. Ultra-quiet cabin. Cutting-edge safety.
CONS: Price climbs fast. Tech learning curve. Sportier competitors.
The S-Class continues to define what luxury really means, with a bolder silhouette, larger grille, and striking, next-gen LED headlights. There’s also an optional illuminated Mercedes star on the hood. Overall, nearly 2,700 parts are new or improved, so more than 50 percent of this vehicle has been updated. An extreme makeover, to be sure.
At the same time, this latest S-Class leans harder into intelligence and electrification than ever before. Under the hood, a range of turbocharged inline-six and V8 engines — paired with mild-hybrid systems — deliver power in a way that seems almost edited for smoothness. Braking is solid and strong, too, but never abrupt. All the engineering is fine-tuned and intentional.
Yes, the top-of-the line S580 version is more expensive, almost $140,000. But it’s also blisteringly fast, zipping from 0 to 60 mph in just 3.9 seconds. That’s as lickety-split swift as a Lamborghini Revuelto supercar, which has a starting MSRP of $610,000 and can easily exceed — yowza! — $800,000.
Colors? There are 150 to choose from for the exterior and 400 for the interior. You can even customize the illuminated door sills, interior stitching and wheel accents.
And the ride quality? Sublime. Adaptive air suspension reads the road constantly, leveling out imperfections before they even register. Rear-axle steering enhances maneuverability, making this full-sized sedan feel surprisingly nimble in tight spaces. On the highway, the S-Class simply glides like a private yacht on the calmest of seas — extremely quiet, composed and completely unbothered.
Whenever you slide inside, the cabin immediately sets the tone. A massive OLED digital display — the same high-def technology used for cinematic viewing and gaming monitors — anchors the dashboard, running the latest MBUX infotainment interface. Highly customizable, this software allows for advanced voice commands that feel natural, not forced. And an augmented-reality navigation system takes your route and overlays it onto live camera feeds. It’s intuitive — mostly, as there is a learning curve for all this cutting-edge gear. Overall, though, such amenities make older setups feel like dial-up internet.
A Burmester surround-sound stereo is available in 3D or 4D, with up to 31 speakers, 1,690 watts and tactile transducers in the seats that vibrate and pulse with the music. Those seats are, of course, extremely comfortable. And the seatbelts? These are now heated.
Let’s not forget the latest cabin air-filtration system, which can remove ultra-fine particles to deliver air quality that rivals medical environments. Clean air, yes, but even this seems like a special treat. It’s like being swaddled in couture, not ready-to-wear.
And lastly, there’s the rear-seat area, which — to be honest — is where the S-Class really shines. Executive packages offer multi-contour reclining seats with rapid heating and ventilating, heated armrests and massage functions. You can opt for a footrest, which ups the glam factor to give you a calf massage. Dual 13.1-inch display screens come with their own remote controls. There’s also a video-conferencing feature, to help transform the rear cabin into a fully connected mobile office. For me, it feels less “back seat” and more “private lounge.”
Even in fiction, high-tech luxury carries weight. Tony Stark helped cement the idea that state-of-the art vehicles can be aspirational, not just practical. The magical S-Class fits right into that narrative — minus the flying suit (for now).
Advice
I’m a 64-year-old single gay man and I hate my life
How can I turn things around before it’s too late?
Dear Michael,
I’m a 64-year-old single gay man and I hate my life.
I’ve never had a relationship that lasted more than a few months. I can’t say why. I don’t think I’m defective. I wasn’t unattractive when I was younger (still not bad looking), I think I’m an interesting person to spend time with, but everything always seemed to fizzle out.
Thankfully, I missed AIDS because I came out after people knew what to do. Sometimes I wonder if fear of contracting the virus metastasized into a fear of getting close. I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve consciously kept people away. Consciously I have wanted someone to share my life with, very much.
With my 65th birthday and official senior citizen status approaching, I’ve been taking stock of my life and am coming to the hard realization that I’m never going to find that elusive partner.
I don’t go out anymore because people look right through me, except the ones who have a fetish for older guys. No one’s actually interested in me as me, a unique person rather than what they see on the surface.
I’m tired of my coupled friends. They’re always talking about “we.” Yes, I have become resentful that they have what I want and will never get. I know that’s not admirable but it’s how I feel, secretly, and I am sick of feeling like this when I am around them. So why be around them?
And I’m tired of my friends who are focused on sex all the time. It just all feels like a waste of time. I don’t get anything from a hookup anymore, they’ve been feeling increasingly meaningless. I feel like I’m someone’s momentary opportunity to get off, rather than any kind of real connection.
I’m just sick of the whole chase I’ve been doing for the last 40+ years.
I’m realizing that the whole thing has been pointless, a quest for a partner who is never going to materialize and a lot of diversions along the way that have added up to a despairing feeling that I’ve wasted my life trying to get something that will never happen.
Gay life hasn’t been so gay for me. And I’m officially old, maybe even nearing the finish line. Yes, if you haven’t noticed, I’m getting bitter.
What do I do with this dead end?
Michael replies:
How about looking for a different road to go down?
I’m not going to challenge your belief that you aren’t going to find a partner. I think it’s possible that you could, because there are other guys out there, in your age range, who are looking. But you have no guarantee, especially if you have decided to take it off the table.
So what else can you do with your life? How can you make your remaining time on this earth well-lived?
From your letter, it’s clear what you don’t want to do: Look for a boyfriend, hook up, or spend time with your current friends. Surely there must be more possibilities for your life than those options.
So my advice is to figure out some things you care about and start doing them. Travel? Volunteering? Getting a companion animal? Taking classes? Finding a new career? Those are just a few of the ideas I can come up with, but I don’t know you. What ideas can you generate, that you suspect you’d like to pursue?
In other words, start putting one foot in front of the other and go in some new directions that intrigue you enough to explore.
Sitting around feeling miserable does not help you to get anywhere. It keeps you feeling miserable. Sitting around waiting to feel better does not lead you to feel better. What would help you get to a better place would be to start taking action on your own behalf. Always keep in mind that while you are alive, with your faculties intact, you do have the choice to take this step, over and over and over again.
If you give yourself something (or some things) worthwhile to put your focus on, and do your best to shift your focus there whenever you notice that you are lamenting, I’m hopeful you will create a more fulfilling and meaningful life.
I’m also hopeful that if you are spending time doing things that you actually enjoy and that enrich your life, you may find more satisfying companionship than you are experiencing with your current friend group. (And yes, this could include a romantic relationship if you decide to be open to this possibility.)
A brief reply in an advice column can point you in the right direction, but it is likely not enough to sustain and motivate you through a major life overhaul.
Therefore, I suggest that you find a therapist to help you figure out how to move forward and what to move toward; and also to grieve, and put to rest as best you can, the loss of the life you hoped you would have.
I know that transcending the loss of a huge lifelong dream may seem impossible. But working toward this, as best you are able, would help you.
Relatedly, one more thing that I hope you can address with a therapist is your bitterness. I do understand why you feel so bitter, and I also think that it is torquing your life in a downhill direction.
Michael Radkowsky, Psy.D. is a licensed psychologist who works with couples and individuals in D.C., Maryland, Virginia, and New York. He can be found online at michaelradkowsky.com. All identifying information has been changed for reasons of confidentiality. Have a question? Send it to [email protected].
Real Estate
Honey, have we been priced out of gay paradise?
Rehoboth remains more accessible than many queer beach destinations
Let’s set the scene, darlings. It’s a scorching July Saturday. You’ve got a trunk full of rosé, a playlist that slaps harder than a “RuPaul’s Drag Race” elimination, and a group chat blowing up with your people en route to Rehoboth Beach — the Delaware beach town that has been the LGBTQ community’s summer headquarters for decades. Sun, sand, Poodle Beach, drag shows, and the kind of easy, breezy freedom that only comes from being surrounded by your tribe.
Now imagine pulling up to a “FOR SALE” sign on that charming two-bedroom cottage two blocks from the boardwalk — the one you’ve been eyeing for years — and seeing the price tag: $1.97 million. Honey, put the rosé down. We need to talk.
Nation’s Summer Capital Has a Spending Problem
Rehoboth Beach has long worn the nickname “The Nation’s Summer Capital” like a crown, owing to the annual migration of Washingtonians — and increasingly, Philadelphians and New Yorkers — who descend on its 27 miles of Atlantic coastline every summer. For the LGBTQ community in particular, Rehoboth has never been just a beach town. It has been a sanctuary, a second home, a place where you can hold your partner’s hand on the boardwalk without a second thought. But the real estate market? She is not reading the room.
According to Redfin data, the median sale price of a home in Rehoboth Beach recently hit $1.96 million — a jaw-dropping 106% increase year over year, and a figure that sits 127% above the national median. The price per square foot has climbed to $1,160, up nearly 27% in the same period. Gag.
So Who IS Buying Right Now?
Let’s not be dramatic — people are still buying in Rehoboth. They’re just a specific kind of people. According to neighborhood data, the per capita income in Rehoboth Beach runs around $118,239, equating to a household income of nearly $473,000 for a family of four. About a third of the workforce telecommutes, many in high-earning, white-collar professions. And more than 68% of residents hold a college degree, compared to a national average of under 22%.
If you want to buy a median-priced home in Rehoboth today with a standard 25% down payment, you’d need to bring nearly half a million dollars to closing — and then cover about $4,000 a month in ongoing expenses.
Still, the market isn’t quite the frenzy it was at peak pandemic frenzy. Homes are sitting on the market for an average of 88 days as of early 2026 — up significantly from the frantic bidding wars of a few years ago, when a listing might vanish before you could refresh Zillow a second time. Sellers are (slowly) getting the memo that buyers have limits.
Have Your Beach House (and Airbnb It, Too)
Many LGBTQ buyers have discovered a savvy workaround to Rehoboth’s sticker shock: buy a property, rent it during peak season, and let your summer visitors essentially pay your mortgage.
The numbers surprisingly support this strategy. The Rehoboth Beach short-term rental market currently has around 928 active listings, with hosts averaging $400 per night and annual revenues of approximately $39,689. The busiest month, predictably, is July — when guests book an average of 96 days in advance (so yes, those summer reservations your friends keep missing out on are being snapped up in April).
The key is making your property stand out in a crowded market. Properties accommodating eight or more guests dominate the Rehoboth STR market (nearly half of all listings), so that five-bedroom house with a game room suddenly starts to look like a business plan. At the same time – keep in mind that location, location, location honey – that is also so valuable. Even a two-bedroom condo close to the beach will also rent favorably well and get those numbers needed to make the most sense to your pockets.
This method allows you to have a second home, enjoy it, have friends enjoy it, and also helps recoup some of the overhead so the overhead and increase in overall purchase price is a bit more manageable.
What It All Means for Our Community
Rehoboth has always been more than real estate. It is one of the few places on the East Coast where LGBTQ people have, for decades, built an actual physical community — businesses, organizations, gathering spaces, neighborhoods — not just a social scene. CAMP Rehoboth, Poodle Beach, the Blue Moon (which, after some drama, was recently sold to new owners who pledged to keep it a queer-affirming space — phew), and countless gay-owned restaurants and shops form an ecosystem that attracts our community every summer precisely because the roots run deep.
But ecosystems require people — year-round residents, small business owners, artists, service workers — not just wealthy second-home owners. When prices rise to the degree they have in Rehoboth, the people who sustain that community can no longer afford to stay. It’s a pattern playing out in LGBTQ neighborhoods from San Francisco’s Castro to New York’s Chelsea, and it’s worth watching closely here.
The good news? Rehoboth remains more accessible than many comparable queer beach destinations. Provincetown, Mass. — the other iconic LGBTQ beach town on the Eastern seaboard — regularly sees median home prices north of $1.5 million with far less inventory and a significantly smaller footprint.
And Delaware’s tax structure does the community a quiet but important favor: no state sales tax, among the lowest property tax rates in the country, and relatively favorable income tax treatment for retirees. These aren’t glamorous talking points, but they matter when you’re running the numbers on whether your beach house dream can actually pencil out.
The Bottom Line, Babe
Can our community still afford Rehoboth? The honest answer is: it depends on what you mean by Rehoboth.
If you mean a single-family home within walking distance of Poodle Beach with an ocean view and a wraparound porch — prepare to spend north of $1.5 million, need a household income pushing six figures annually, and move fast when something comes to market.
If you mean a condo or townhome in the greater Rehoboth area – or a property you plan to rent out in peak season to offset costs — there are still real pathways in.
And if you mean belonging to a community, showing up every summer, taking up space on that beach, supporting LGBTQ-owned businesses, and making sure Rehoboth’s queer identity doesn’t get washed away by the luxury market tide — well, that part doesn’t have a price tag.
It just requires showing up. So pack the car. Bring the rosé. The beach is still ours.
Have a real estate question or Rehoboth market tip? Reach out to [email protected] for LGBTQ-friendly real estate resources in the Rehoboth area.
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