By Donja R. Love
I didn’t realize how much I needed to go to Miami for the American Black Film Festival (ABFF). When GLAAD asked me to be their ambassador for ABFF, I was conflicted. Before the request, my husband and I were informed by our (now former) landlord that we had to move because our apartment building was being sold, and the highly renowned and communal festival was scheduled for two weeks before the date we were supposed to vacate the property. See what I mean? Conflicted. However, my relationship with GLAAD and my love for the Black, queer, and trans communities prevailed. So, I went.
When I got to Miami, I was stressed boots. Well, to be honest, before even heading to the airport, I was stressed. However, it intensified upon my arrival in Miami. Maybe because I was so far from home and on the brink of no longer having one. I tried my best to karate kick those thoughts and feelings away, but I couldn’t. All I could do that first night was sleep. I hoped to wake up anew, ready to be in Miami with GLAAD for ABFF and experience all that was ready to be given. Guess what?! I didn’t. I was still focused on this impending move, with nowhere to move.
That all changed when I went to the first of two consulting group sessions focused on helping expand HIV and AIDS representation in the media. (It even included an impromptu tarot reading.) The session, gently facilitated by the wonderful Dwayne Williams, comprised various Black LGBTQ artists from across the country, all of whom were interested in engaging in the necessary conversation about HIV in the arts and its impact on society. This felt like home to me. I was able to see myself reflected. I was able to share my experience as a Poz advocate and award-winning playwright and filmmaker who made it my mission to create community and visibility for Black people living with HIV.
The conversation was the balm I needed. It was a reminder that things may seem bleak in the moment, but that doesn’t have to be the case in the long term. This holds true for HIV representation in media and my move. Once I realized this, I started cooking with good fish grease!
The second day of the session gave what it was supposed to give–creativity, community, and care. Day one was a very informal group conversation around our thoughts and experiences related to HIV and AIDS, personally and in the media. Day two was rooted in imagination. We got in groups and created stories that held space for HIV and AIDS narratives. My group ate! Shout-out to Donnie, John, and Paco. We created a series about a teen navigating a recent HIV diagnosis and a therapist who’s a dandelion (a person born with HIV), forming a bond and healing. It was beautiful, and it provided the healing I needed.
From there, I karate-kicked my stress and anxiety so hard that they backed off for the rest of my time at ABFF. I saw Nathan Hale Williams’ documentary “Come Together: Art’s Power for Change.” I took in Miami. I breathed lighter. What a privilege.
That’s what community, creativity, and care can do. It can make you feel like you are home. I am grateful to GLAAD and ABFF for that reminder.
