Abstract
A
Having started to care for people living with HIV at the very beginning of the epidemic in New England and having helped to develop Boston's initial responses to community-based research, I became very familiar with the American Foundation for AIDS Research (amfAR) from the very earliest days of its inception. Because of amFAR's increasing activities in supporting new initiatives in community-based research, I was selected to be a member of their Board of Directors, along with a distinguished list of colleagues, ranging from leaders in public health to major moguls. The first Board meeting I attended was held in Los Angeles, California. When I entered the meeting room, I was struck by Elizabeth Taylor's magnetic presence. She was wearing a maroon turtleneck sweater and seemed quite approachable, not an aloof diva. I went around the room and introduced myself to my new colleagues on the Board of Directors and with some trepidation, I went up to her and told her who I was and she was very charming. By that point in time, she had already been public about her advocacy for people living with HIV after the death of her close friend, Rock Hudson. As someone who had many patients who were brutalized by the stigma associated with HIV, including loss of livelihood and social isolation from friends and family, I thought that it would be nice for her to hear how much clinicians working with people living with HIV appreciated her efforts. I told her that because everyone in America felt as if they knew her, that she had helped put a face to the epidemic—a familiar face and somebody they admired. I told her that on behalf of other caregivers, I just wanted to thank her for her efforts. She smiled and said, “Thank you for your kind words, but I don't really consider myself a hero. The people who are really making a difference are the people on the front lines. There's a local charity here in Los Angeles called, “God's Love We Deliver.” They provide food for people living with HIV and they help people who are living with the virus lead dignified lives. They really are the people who deserve the attention.”
Her deflection of praise for work that she had done, which was already quite noteworthy, was awe-inspiring. She was clearly not doing this work to get another accolade, rather she really believed in the cause, cared about people affected by the virus, and understood that her prominence could lend stature to a cause that was being ignored by the Reagan Administration. Her intent was to advocate for the dignity that people living with HIV deserved. I was not surprised when subsequently she had the opportunity at the International AIDS Conference in Washington D.C. to decry the apathy of the Administration and highlight the needs of people living with HIV.
We are all diminished by her death. She was one of the last superstars of the Golden Days of Hollywood. She had a grace and an eloquence that transcended age and defied time, but unlike many of her colleagues whose prominence led them to further narcissistic pursuits and tragedies, Elizabeth Taylor saw an opportunity to use her fame to help others. Certainly in the annals of the history of this epidemic, there have been very many remarkable developments ranging from the intense scramble by public health workers to find the cause of AIDS to ongoing research that has lead to improved treatment and access to medication for people around the world. But among the leaders of the earliest responses to this epidemic, Dame Elizabeth Taylor will figure prominently. She was a wise woman who understood how her allure allowed her to be connected to the lives of millions of people and who used that charm to create a human face of concern for the epidemic Through her efforts, the lives of millions were improved. We should all be forever grateful.