September 27 is not just a date on the calendar.
It is a sacred checkpoint in our collective journey. National Gay Men's HIV/AIDS Awareness Day invites us to pause, reflect, and recommit to the lives and legacies that shape our communities. In Broward County, where the HIV epidemic has left deep and lasting marks on generations of gay men, this day holds profound meaning. It is a moment to honor survival, amplify erased voices, and demand care that reflects dignity and truth.
We have never been passive in this fight. Across clinics, churches, cultural spaces, and community gatherings, we have built networks of resilience. We have held each other through diagnosis, grief, and transformation. We have challenged systems that failed to see us fully and created new ones rooted in compassion and accountability. Our work is not just medical. It is spiritual. It is editorial. It is prophetic.
We center long-term survivors, aging LGBTQ individuals, and those navigating care in politically hostile climates. We shape language that honors emotional truth and intersectional experience. We advocate for policies that reflect ethical care and community inclusion. We do this not for recognition but because we know what is at stake. We know that silence is not neutral. It is violent.
And we refuse to be erased.
As we often say in our gatherings, we are not just surviving HIV. We are surviving erasure. And every time we tell our story, we make healing possible. This mission belongs to all of us. It belongs to the ballroom elders and street outreach workers. It belongs to the church mothers and policy warriors. It belongs to the young ones just learning their history and the long-term survivors still waiting to be seen. It belongs to every gay man who ever sat in a waiting room wondering if he would be treated with care. It belongs to every LGBTQ person whose truth was dismissed or delayed.
National Gay Men's HIV/AIDS Awareness Day is not about slogans or statistics. It is about spiritual survival. It is about legacy. And it is about love. To our brothers in Broward and beyond, your story matters. Your survival is sacred. And your future is worth fighting for. Let this day be a reminder that we are still here. Still loving. Still leading. Still living.
Call to Action: Let this day be more than remembrance. Let it be a renewal of our shared commitment to justice, care, and truth. We invite our communities in Broward County and beyond to take action. Speak the names of those we have lost and those still fighting. Share your story or hold space for someone else's. Demand ethical care and inclusive policy from every institution that serves us.
Support local organizations that center LGBTQ and HIV-affected communities. Challenge stigma wherever it shows up in clinics, in churches, in conversation. Build legacy through love, language, and leadership. We are not waiting for permission to be seen. We are claiming space, shaping narrative, and modeling care that honors every part of who we are. We are still here. And we are not done.
Von Biggs is a writer, community leader, and HIV justice advocate based in Broward County. His work bridges public health, cultural storytelling, and ethical care, amplifying voices often erased. Through writing, ministry, and community leadership, Von centers dignity, emotional truth, and collective liberation.
