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.
The latest Honda Civic hatchback and Subaru Impreza are two of the segment’s stars. Both offer sensible pricing, excellent utility and enough personality to avoid feeling like appliances.
The Civic is more polished. The Impreza, more rugged. Luckily, neither is trying to be obnoxiously flashy.
HONDA CIVIC
$28,000
MPG: 30 city/38 highway
0 to 60 mph: 8.9 seconds
Cargo space: 24.5 cu. ft.
PROS: Fuel efficient. Spacious cargo area. Good resale value.
CONS: No all-wheel drive. Fussy infotainment. Low rear headroom.
WHAT’S NEW: Only minor updates for 2026. The biggest change carries over from last year’s refresh: the addition of the hybrid, which has become a star performer.
The Honda Civic hatchback won’t scream for attention. It won’t arrive wearing sequins and carrying a smoke machine. It’s more like Nomi Marks from “Sense8”: intelligent, sophisticated and impressively capable.
The styling remains handsome and clean. Long hood. Low roofline. Crisp lines everywhere.Honda resisted the urge to make this vehicle look like a spaceship or an angry robot. That’s refreshing.
Inside, the dashboard is simple and elegant. The honeycomb air-vent treatment remains one of the coolest interior details in the segment. Materials feel expensive. Controls are easy to understand. And visibility is excellent.
I love how the cargo space is generous, with rear seats that fold flat. A bicycle, several suitcases or enough supplies for an ambitious weekend road trip fit without much hassle.
Then there’s the hybrid. The system produces a healthy amount of power while delivering fuel economy that borders on the absurd. Around town, handling feels smooth, quiet and surprisingly quick. You almost glide through traffic. The standard gasoline engine isn’t bad, but the hybrid is stellar.
The Civic also shines on twisty roads. Steering is precise. Body motions stay controlled. The suspension strikes a sweet balance between comfort and sportiness.
Biggest weakness? No all-wheel drive. For drivers in snowy climates, that’s not so good.
Still, the Civic’s stellar combination of efficiency, quality, and driving enjoyment remains incredibly hard to beat.
SUBARU IMPREZA
$27,000
MPG: 27 city/33 highway
0 to 60 mph: 8.5 seconds
Cargo space: 20.4 cubic feet
PROS: All-wheel drive. User-friendly tech. Safety cred.
CONS: No hybrid version. Some road noise. Modest cargo room.
WHAT’S NEW: The Impreza receives relatively minor updates for 2026. Subaru continues refining this hatchback rather than reinventing it.
If the Honda Civic is urbane, the Subaru Impreza is unfussy. There’s a kind of Kristen Stewart energy here. Cool without trying too hard.
The styling isn’t dramatic, but it works. This hauler appears ready to tackle rain, snow, dirt roads or an impromptu weekend escape.
And all-wheel drive comes standard on every Impreza. (Most competitors only offer front-wheel drive or include all-wheel drive as a pricey option.)
The result: Slippery roads simply don’t create much anxiety. The suspension absorbs bumps nicely. Long trips are comfortable. Visibility is great, thanks to relatively thin roof pillars and large windows.
I like how the cabin is functional rather than fancy. Materials don’t quite match the Civic’s upscale vibe, but everything feels sturdy. A large infotainment screen dominates the dashboard and generally works well, though some drivers may prefer more physical buttons.
Cargo space is respectable, and the design makes loading bulky items easy.
Performance depends heavily on trim. The base engine gets the job done, but nobody will confuse it for a sports car. The RS trim’s larger engine provides more power and makes the ride livelier. But even then, acceleration remains merely adequate.
The Impreza’s real appeal lies elsewhere, with a mix that few rivals can match: hatchback practicality, standard all-wheel drive, strong safety scores and reasonable pricing.
Perhaps that’s the key difference between these two hatchbacks. The Honda Civic impresses immediately. The Subaru Impreza grows on you.
Fortunately, choosing between them is less stressful than deciding who gets the last mimosa at brunch.
Real Estate
When buying a home, it’s decisions, decisions, decisions
Keeping notes on the process makes for an informed purchase
When looking to buy a home, there are lots of details to consider. Many of my clients would come to me and say, “Joe I want to buy a place, but I haven’t decided which neighborhood to buy in.” And the struggle was real. A few clients had everything decided from the color of the hallway walls to the cabinet handles and sometimes which three square blocks they wanted to look at.
But other clients were occasionally looking at properties in areas as distinct as Union Market/NOMA, Brookland, Logan Circle, and then we would even go across the river to look at a property in Shirlington or the Van Dorn areas of Virginia, which all have their own unique flavor and characteristics.
Sometimes clients would tell me, “I only want to look in Mount Pleasant or Adams Morgan.” Or, “don’t even show me any properties west of this street or south of that street.” My job wasn’t to convince people where to live. It was to just take the parameters they set for me and find as good of a property in that zone as I could, coordinate the showings and, if necessary, offer the strategy.
One can see that buyers often had more decisions to make than a seller. From a seller’s perspective, the house was where it was, and we just had to make the best of it. But working with a buyer could mean looking at five different neighborhoods, and then being a “thought partner” to help them figure out which were the top two or three areas they had seen, and then further distilling those down into what was available and weighing those options against each other.
One house could have the dream bathroom but also be located six blocks further from a Metro stop, walkable shopping and dining, and “just too far away from my friends.” Another house could have all the neighborhood options a client was looking for, but was just not in turnkey condition, and would require an additional $30,000 of upgrades once purchased to make it into the dream home they envisioned.
One activity I often asked buyers to do was to keep an active list in their heads of the properties they liked, and to keep a running rank of the top three. I often encouraged them to bring a notebook along on the journey where they could take notes and write down questions they thought of as they looked. It was an important decision, and sometimes the largest purchase of their lives. Why not take it a little seriously, and take notes? This could often help the buyer later when they felt it was time to decide.
The point here is, keeping a notebook handy can sometimes help a person with what feels like an overwhelming process. It provides a space to explore how one feels, jot down important details to remember, and then use that to make an informed decision.
Joseph Hudson is a referral agent with RLAH. Reach him at 703-587-0597 or [email protected].
Real Estate
Under-the-radar Delaware beach towns smart buyers are targeting
There are other options if Rehoboth prices are scaring you off
Look, we love Rehoboth. We will always love Rehoboth. Queer folks have been flocking there since the 1940s, and with scores of LGBTQ-owned businesses and a Pride calendar packed tighter than the boardwalk in July, “Rehomo” earned its crown fair and square.
But let’s be honest with each other: trying to buy property there right now feels a lot like trying to get a reservation at the one good restaurant in town on a Saturday in August. Everyone wants in, inventory is tighter than your swim trunks after Labor Day brunch, and the prices have officially entered “are you kidding me” territory.
So here’s a thought: What if you didn’t fight the crowd? What if, instead, you let Rehoboth keep doing its glorious, chaotic, glitter-bomb thing and you quietly built your beach life 15 minutes away for considerably less drama and considerably more square footage? Here are four towns ready for their close-up.
Lewes: The Charming Overachiever
Lewes is what happens when a beach town actually has its life together. Historic charm, walkability, proximity to Cape Henlopen State Park, less crowding, and a strong year-round community. Unlike towns that turn into ghost towns after Labor Day, Lewes maintains a real community all year long, which is more than we can say for some situationships.
And right now, the market is practically begging you to make a move. It’s one of the most desirable and stable markets in the county — built for buyers thinking long-term, not flippers, and Sussex County overall has flipped into genuine buyer’s market territory for the first time in years. Translation: you finally get to be the one with leverage.
Bethany Beach: My Personal Pick
Full disclosure: I own in Bethany. So consider this section a little biased — and also the most honest thing I’ll tell you in this whole article.
When I drive down from D.C., I’m not looking for more of D.C. I love this city, but I also love leaving it — and yes, some of the people in it too (you know who you are, and so do I). Bethany gives me that full exhale. It’s quiet in the way that actually means something: fewer crowds, slower mornings, a soundtrack that’s mostly waves instead of nightlife. It leans hard into its “quiet resort” reputation, with low property taxes and a limited geographic footprint, and it is not the least bit sorry about it.
But quiet doesn’t mean isolated. I’ve got a genuinely excellent food scene nearby, real shopping, and a string of charming neighboring beach towns — and when I do want a taste of Rehoboth’s energy, it’s a short, easy drive away. I get to choose my dose of chaos instead of living inside it.
And here’s the part that matters most for this article: the price. If you’ve looked at Rehoboth listings and quietly closed the tab in despair, I need you to hear this — you can absolutely afford a beach house. It just doesn’t have to be in Rehoboth. Bethany’s average home value sits around $848,592, which is still real money, no question — but it buys you more house, more land, and more peace than the same budget gets you closer to the boardwalk. Bethany is welcoming too, just without Rehoboth’s decades of built-in queer institutional history — and for plenty of us, that trade-off is more than worth it.
Fenwick Island: Small Town, Big Flex
Fenwick rarely gets mentioned and, frankly, it should be insulted. It’s tiny, it’s quiet, and it has beach access without the carnival energy. The market data tends to lump it in with Bethany, where single-family oceanfront homes clear $1 million while entry-level condos start in the $600s — proof that “under-the-radar” doesn’t mean “bargain bin,” it means “fewer people fighting you for it.”
South Bethany: For the Boat Gays
Some of us want sand between our toes. Others want a private dock and a boat named something deeply unserious. South Bethany’s canal communities are built for the latter — water access on both sides, fewer crowds, and a lifestyle that says, “I have a captain’s hat and I am not afraid to wear it.”
The Math Works in Your Favor Now
Here’s the part that should really get your attention: Sussex County’s median sold price has dropped to $440,000, down 3.3% year-over-year, and buyers are routinely closing around 88 cents on the dollar compared to asking price. That’s a far cry from the unhinged bidding wars of 2021 and 2022, when overpaying was basically a competitive sport. Inventory across the county sits at nearly 2,500 active listings — the most of any county in Delaware, meaning you actually get to be picky for once. Revolutionary, we know.
And no, choosing one of these towns doesn’t mean leaving your people behind. Sussex Pride serves the entire county, not just Rehoboth proper, and CAMP Rehoboth’s resources extend well beyond town limits too. You’re not exiling yourself to the suburbs of queerness — you’re just getting a bigger kitchen, a quieter porch, and a much shorter line for the bathroom.
Add in the fact that Delaware has no estate tax and some of the lowest property taxes around, savings that genuinely add up over a retirement horizon, and the case writes itself. Rehoboth will always be the beating, sequined heart of queer beach culture in Delaware. But if you’ve been telling yourself a beach house isn’t in the cards — I’m here to tell you it absolutely is. It just might be 15 minutes south, with your own quiet porch, your own salt air, and considerably more room to breathe.
Have a real estate question or Rehoboth market tip? Reach out to [email protected] for LGBTQ-friendly real estate resources in the Rehoboth area.
Justin Noble is a Realtor licensed in D.C., Maryland, and Delaware with Monument Sotheby’s International Realty. Reach him at [email protected] or 302-897-7499.
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When buying a home, it’s decisions, decisions, decisions
