While editing a radio documentary on my experiences covering the early years of the AIDS epidemic for Pacifica Radio, I was struck by how chaotic it felt back then.

Young gay men were dying of a wide range of what were known as “opportunistic infections” — a rare skin cancer that was usually benign, a type of pneumonia typically seen only in late-stage cancer patients, and even an aggressive form of herpes.

It seemed clear that something was wrong with these men’s immune systems. But what could destroy the immune system of an otherwise healthy young man?

Some theorized that the “fast-lane lifestyle” was to blame. Perhaps recreational drug use, repeated bouts of sexually transmitted diseases and late-night partying had taken their toll on the body.

Public health doctors suspected an infectious agent, such as a virus, was the cause. But, they told reporters, finding a cure or even treatment options could take 10 to 20 years.

In the meantime, the number of new cases was doubling every six months, and those with the disease were not expected to survive more than a few years.

The Reagan administration remained silent.

A Community in Turmoil

The gay and lesbian community (we didn’t use the term LGBTQ back then) struggled to find a way through the crisis. In San Francisco, bathhouse owners were reluctant to warn their patrons about the disease, fearful of losing business. Gay men, who had built a culture around sexual liberation, struggled to define and accept new boundaries of intimacy. Long-time activist Konstantin Berlandt declared, “I didn’t become a homosexual so I could use condoms.”

People with AIDS faced isolation, depression, and even guilt. Many in the community sought to downplay the epidemic, accusing AIDS activists of scaremongering. At a meeting I attended in Los Angeles in 1983, a doctor reassured the assembled gay men that they had little chance of contracting AIDS, from a statistical standpoint.

The media didn’t have much to say about the outbreak in the first year. Then, after cases were reported in children with hemophilia, Haitian immigrants and heroin users, the media coverage exploded. “Gay plague hits America,” one headline warned. “Infant may have gay plague,” said another.

Today, thanks to television programs like the HBO adaptations of Larry Kramer’s “The Normal Heart” and Randy Shilts’ “And the Band Played On,” many people are familiar with the events of that time.

Even so, TV programs tend to accelerate events and compress action. For those of us living at ground zero of the epidemic — in cities such as Los Angeles, San Francisco and New York — the two years between June 1981 and June 1983 seemed like an eternity.

There were times, I’ll admit, when I wondered whether we would make it through the epidemic. Bigotry, greed, shame and fear had given AIDS a deadly head start.

Then, we got angry. And that changed everything.

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