Tomorrow, Aids Memory UK (AMUK) will announce the winning artist to create the new Aids Memorial in London. This will be the first of its kind: a sculpture marking a space for remembrance and solidarity, commemorating those affected by HIV/Aids.
I grew up in London in the Eighties under the enforced shadow of Section 28. Adverts showed icebergs ominously rising out of dark waters warning of a “deadly virus” which so far only affected “small groups”. An enforced silence, media stoked misinformation and demonisation, and fear loomed over us all. The generation above me were dying in ever-growing numbers, while my generation was denied sexual health education due to Conservative policies.
It was a terrifying and desperate time. Sex and homosexuality were conflated with death.
Due to advances in medications which halt the spread of transmission, and life-saving drugs that mean those with HIV cannot transmit the virus, the current landscape for many is far more hopeful. The question remains: how do we mark, memorialise and educate about this period of our history?
For too long, queer narratives have been hidden — either for individuals’ safety, or having been forcibly erased. For too long, the narrative surrounding HIV and Aids has centred the white male gay experience, excluding others.
At the last Aids vigil hosted by AMUK, founder and creative director Ash Kotak introduced me to a nurse who cared for patients during this time. Her stories were so incredibly harrowing. She said that nurses like her, often young black and brown female Londoners, simply weren’t being told.
So how do we choose to mark this period and our fellow Londoners who experienced it? A public artwork seems like a necessary start.
This memorial is vital for shedding light on the continuing impact on our city and particularly the communities disproportionately affected
In the minds of many Londoners, HIV and Aids may seem like a thing of the past. This memorial is vital for shedding light on the continuing impact on our city and particularly four communities disproportionately affected: gay/bisexual men, black African communities, the bleeding disorders community and injecting drug users.
As an ambassador for the project and a member of the Mayor of London’s Commission for Diversity in the Public Realm, I couldn’t be prouder that these communities are finally being honoured.
The chosen location for the memorial — South Crescent, Store Street — is close to the former Middlesex Hospital, where the UK’s first ward dedicated to the care and treatment of people affected by HIV/Aids was established. Here, Princess Diana famously shook hands with a man living with Aids, challenging the belief that the virus could be transmitted by touch.
It was important for AMUK and their partners to create something artistically excellent to respect those who have been lost, but also to recognise where we are now, and looking to the future, making HIV/Aids visible in a permanent way.
I think of my younger self — cut off from any access to education about my LGBTQ+ community, thinking that my sexuality was a death sentence — and for so many it was. I think of the affected communities who were similarly ignored.
I hope that this memorial acts as a reminder of what we have been through as a society, and a beacon for the future, reminding us never — through lack of education, fear, or ignorance — to allow history to repeat itself.
