A huge thank-you and a hug of solidarity to everyone who supported me for BRAKING AIDS® Ride last weekend. I had a fantastic time in glorious weather with my ride family—spending Day 1 caboosing with rock star Noella Owen and Day 2 riding with Beth & Sydney Shapiro, John Anderson, and other amazing folks we met on the road. Below is a short BRAKING AIDS® 2025 slideshow. A shoutout to Blake Strasser for dubbing our Day 1 cabeese duo Team Hot Girls In the Rear. We became Team Dirty Hot Girls In the Rear early in the day after a bike-chain mishap covered my fingers in bike grease and lube. 😂
Best of all, because of all of you, the BRAKING AIDS® Ride community has already raised over $416,000, and donations will keep coming in over the next 30 days. The depth of my appreciation for the 181 supporters who gave such generous donations, along with encouragement and inspiration, cannot be fully expressed, Every gift, small or large, makes a difference to Housing Works’ amazing work and services in the fights to end AIDS and homelessness and to provide care with dignity for the most vulnerable among us. With government funding being slashed mercilessly in every arena, events like this ride, which bring in unrestricted funding dollars, are more crucial than ever.
Thank you again for being on this journey with me. You all fill me with immeasurable gratitude and love.
My favorite cheerleaders at an oasis during BRAKING AIDS RIde 2024
It’s late August. BRAKING AIDS® Ride is coming up in two and a half weeks, and I’ll be riding my bicycle, The Blue Streak, from Philadelphia to NYC in support of Housing Works. With your help, I’ll raise at least $20,000 again this year, and as a bonus, I’ll also exceed the $300,000 milestone on my individual fundraising for this cause over the last 17 years.
If you’re a past supporter and having a TL;DR moment, here’s the donation link to help me get there: give.classy.org/mika2025. Donations of all sizes are welcome, but a gift of $250 or more is especially helpful and will go a long way toward helping me reach my $20,000 fundraising goal. If a donation isn’t feasible, sharing this blogpost with 5 or 6 people in your network would be fantastic.
Me in my happy place, BRAKING AIDS Ride 2024
Otherwise, here’s what I can share about BRAKING AIDS® Ride 2025:
It’s Okay to Not Be Okay—and Still Show Up To Fight
I’ve gotten questions from some folks about whether I’d be riding this year. As many of my friends know, my job at a youth non-profit was among the casualties of federal funding cuts and other draconian political maneuvers. My partner was laid off a month later from their non-profit job under similar circumstances. We’re hardly the only ones. We hear about more mass layoffs every week.
It’s been one of the most challenging years of my life. I don’t have the wherewithal to be falsely stoic and say it’s fine. It’s not fine. I’m not fine. And yet.
At the same time that JL and I get up every day to look for work and to try to figure out how to boost our spirits and stretch our finances, I’m also keenly aware every minute of every day: We’re among the lucky. We’re safe. We have a roof over our heads, food, water, decent health, savings to live on for a while until we find work. So many people have no housing, no savings, no resources to fall back on, no sources of help and support.
We’re also barraged, terrified, outraged, exhausted each day by reports of war and suffering, by constant attacks on the human rights that should protect all of us. People who support fascist, autocratic thinking and beliefs have been here among us, all along, but they’re newly re-empowered by the bullies in power who are running what’s left of our democracy into the ground—and they know it. Even when I stop reading the headline horrors of the day, I see visible signs of that gleeful hatred everywhere, including my own Brooklyn neighborhood.
Even as I recognize these cataclysms for what they are, I am trying to stay mindful not to let those realities eclipse my own agency and the energy of our own collective power when we work together. Showing up for the struggle in the dark is what makes the dawning of all human progress possible. Just this morning, while slogging through job postings of all things, I re-encountered this timeless bit of Frederick Douglass’ wisdom on that very notion:
“The whole history of the progress of human liberty shows that all concessions yet made to her august claims have been born of earnest struggle.”
Mr. Douglass had it right. The ACT UP AIDS activists of the early 1980s had it right, too. When it comes to defending your basic rights and the right to exist: Silence equals death. Silence amidst atrocities will not protect anyone.
We each have many choices about how we show up to fight each day. BRAKING AIDS Ride remains one of mine.I will ride and show up as best I can—because I can. Because showing up to fight the important fights is necessary, and this is what I can still do today.
Why Housing Works?
You already know from my past emails: Housing Works does EVERYHING an AIDS organization should do and then some—testing, prevention, and treatment; housing; full medical services; mental health; harm reduction; legal help; and job training and job placement. You have also heard me talk about their decades of advocacy both from within and outside the system.
That last bit—the advocacy—is more vital than it’s ever been.
Housing Works is able to keep telling truth to power in ways many non-profits can’t because of innovations they invested in decades ago—launching creative revenue streams that secure long-term sustainability. Most non-profits rely heavily on government or corporate money for funding. Housing Works realized early on, during the 1990s Giuliani Administration, that to survive lean times and challenging political landscapes, they needed other independent revenue streams. That’s how the thrift stores, bookstore, and now the cannabis dispensaries came into being. These entrepreneurial businesses enable HW to be nimble and independent; to connect everyday retail consumers with their mission in unique ways; and to provide job opportunities for our community.
What’s more, their relentless advocacy works. The successes below are just two examples among many.
RECENT ADVOCACY SUCCESSES:
When the federal government tried to repeal the Affordable Care Act (ACA) during the first Trump administration, Housing Works fought back through civil disobedience—because none of the health outcomes for HIV and other chronic conditions are possible without affordable care. They won, and ACA remained.
When the current administration announced that it was freezing funding for PEPFAR, which funds global HIV/AIDS prevention and treatment, Housing Works stepped up immediately to mount weekly protests in DC. It’s no accident that PEPFAR is one of the few health programs that has retained a significant portion of its funding. That was Housing Works’ activism, paid for by your donations.
I continue to support this organization and this cause because Housing Works goes where the important fights are and does what’s audacious and necessary. Years ahead of anyone else, they advocate for the innovations that then become commonsense best practices.Transgender rights and protections. Ending the AIDS epidemic plans. Harm reduction. Affordable care for all. And so much more.
Housing Works has shown up for what’s right for decades—and I trust them to show up for all the important fights ahead.
Below is a mini-montage from BRAKING AIDS® 2024 this past weekend. I’m grateful to so many people and for so many things—to my chosen ride family, to my body for continuing to stay strong despite how I treated it sometimes when I was younger!), to the weather gods for bestowing us with sunshine, to the 150 people and counting who donated generously to support Housing Works, and especially to my dad (you can catch me hugging him near the end of the slideshow), who taught 7-year-old me to ride a bike by running along side me while I learned how to pedal and balance, how to fall or crash, and then how to get back up again and ride some more.
The 2024 ride is complete, but if you meant to donate, gifts can continue to come in until mid-October. Thank you, everyone, for your love and support!
It’s August. BRAKING AIDS® Ride is coming up in less than five weeks, and I’ll be riding my bicycle, The Blue Streak, from Philadelphia to NYC. The route is new, but my goals are the same: to raise awareness about HIV/AIDS and homelessness and to raise at least $20,000 to support Housing Works and its lifesaving services.
I’ve been doing BRAKING AIDS® Ride since 2008, in memory of two family friends who died of AIDS-related illnesses—Dennis, who died in 1987, and Curtis, who died in 2003. In that time, I’ve raised $260,000, and with your help, I’ll hit $280,000 or more this year.
For all you readers out there, here’s the rundown for BRAKING AIDS® Ride 2024:
Why Housing Works Again and Again
I keep showing up to support Housing Works because they provide transformative services to over 15,000 of the most vulnerable New Yorkers among us every single year—housing, job training, health care (including primary care, dental, and mental health, not only HIV-specific services), free legal help, substance use treatment, and more. I trust this organization to do what’s right, regardless of who is in the White House or in Congress and irrespective of what recent court-decision calamity has come down. Housing Works remains committed to social justice and advocacy andcontinues to fight for what’s crucial for those most in need. They’ve been fighting the fights that need fighting since their founding in 1990, and they’ll do it after election season has come and gone.
What Housing Works Has Been Up to in 2024
Here are some Housing Works initiatives from the past year:
Housing for justice-involved individuals, including three transitional hotels; resident access to case management, substance use treatment, harm reduction services, and primary care; help in finding permanent housing; and a broader advocacy campaign to shut down Riker’s Island
Rapid-response services to address the migrant crisis, such as two “City Sanctuary” hotels for migrant families with children; case management; and legal services to apply for asylum
Developing new housing—67 units for formerly homeless individuals (59 for people with HIV) and 44 low-income units in Hell’s Kitchen, and 22 supportive housing units and 17 low-income units on Pitkin Avenue in Brooklyn
Two new health care clinics, one in Hell’s Kitchen and one in East Harlem, for a total of six federally-qualified health centers (FQHCs) in Manhattan and Brooklyn
Piloting new, groundbreaking tools to end the AIDS epidemic—long-acting injectable antiretroviral medications, which enable patients to shift from taking a daily pill to receiving six injections per year to achieve treatment adherence and stay healthy
Advocacy for Overdose Prevention Centers, a cutting-edge model that saves lives and prevents HIV and Hepatitis C transmission
Please donate today! Donations of all sizes are welcome, but a gift of $250 or more is especially helpful and will go a long way toward helping me reach my $20,000 fundraising goal. (If you can cover the 4% processing fee so 100% of your gift goes to Housing Works, even better.) Please donate as much as you’re able, and together we’ll do our part to in the fight to end AIDS and homelessness.
Some info on what your gift funds:
$250—Pays for 50 hygiene kits for homeless youth, with daily essentials like soap, deodorant, and a pill-sized tablet cloth that expands into a towel when you add water
$600—Covers the cost for 50 rapid HIV tests
$750—Feeds 375 homeless youth during evening drop-in hours at Housing Works’ East New York Health Center
$1,000—Provides 1 month of supportive housing for HIV-positive individuals
$2,000—Completely outfits 7 new single-unit apartments with household items
$3,500—Funds a bus and stipends to send 54 advocates to Albany
$5,000—Funds a bus and stipends to send 54 advocates to Washington, DC, and provides bail money for 10 advocates to take an arrest for civil disobedience
If anyone asks me how I’m feeling these days, my reply isn’t always terribly inspiring. Weary. Low-grade anxious. The constancy of gun violence in our country. The air-quality nightmares that have plagued the continent because of the smoke from Canadian wildfires and other climate-change environmental horrors. The spate of Supreme Court decisions sending U.S. policy back in time 75 years. These apocalyptic realities are as disheartening as they are unsurprising. Climate change and gun violence have been imminent disasters of our own making for many decades. We knew when the makeup of the current court was being put into place that our current national trajectory was where those confirmations would lead—of dismantling hard-won protections and socioeconomic progress for not only most of the people I love and care about but most people in the U.S. full stop.
I had dinner last week with a dear friend of mine, who, having not received my usual BRAKING AIDS Ride fundraising email yet, asked me if I was riding again. When I said yes and that I felt woefully unprepared, she asked, with an incredulity that took me by surprise, “how do you keep doing it?”
Two weeks ago marked the 42nd anniversary of Lawrence K. Altman’s 1981 New York Times article, “”Rare Cancer Seen in Homosexuals,” considered by many to be the first mainstream media coverage of what became known as HIV/AIDS.
How do I keep doing it?
My answer, interestingly, comes from a slightly younger, not-yet-50 me in September of last year—having just completed the one-day, 85-100-mile BRAKING AIDS Lite 2022, the COVID edition redux. As many of you know, I had the honor of speaking at opening ceremonies last year; Monica, part of the fab video production team who shoots interviews of riders and crew during the event, has also chased after me many times over the years to try to get me to chat about the ride and why I do it. I am not shy about talking but less comfortable on camera. Much as I love Monica, when I see her coming, I usually keep it short and pithy and pedal away as quickly as possible. After the ride last year, she didn’t take no for an answer. I’m bleary-eyed at best when I get off my bike in NYC, so I had no recollection later of what she asked or how I replied.
Turns out my 49-year-old self had accrued a few pieces of wisdom. If you’re curious to hear and see the 3-minute video—me, flanked by Housing Works CEO Charles King and fellow rider Cheyenne Smith, all describing why we love and return to BRAKING AIDS Ride year after year—check it out here:
These clips of Housing Works CEO Charles King, me, and my friend Cheyenne Smith from last year’s BRAKING AIDS Ride sum up why I’ve been showing up for this event since 2008, even when I feel as though I don’t have the mental or physical energy to show up in the ways I want to.
I keep doing it—the “it” being showing up, trying to do my part to make the world a little better, a little more just, a little more kind and compassionate—because we already know what happens when we don’t show up. When we don’t keep fighting for the causes and beliefs that matter.
I don’t know where the other roads will eventually go to—the future paths that emerge when we show up as best we can, as we are, whether we feel energized and optimistic or exhausted and aggrieved. What I do know is that when we make our presence and engagement with what Tony Kushner called “The Great Work” as committed and regular a practice as brushing our teeth, going for a walk, or meditating, disaster is no longer a foregone conclusion and positive change becomes a real possibility.
So I keep moving.
Most AIDS and health care service organizations focus on a few core services and refer their clients to other places for other needs. Housing Works take a holistic approach to its clients, providing them with a range of integrated crucial programs—the key services clients need to shift from emergency survival mode to independent living and thriving: housing, job training, health care (including primary care, dental, and mental health, not only HIV-specific services), free legal help, substance use treatment, and more.
Additionally Housing Works remains unique in its commitment to social justice and advocacy. I worked at Housing Works for 5 years heading up advocacy communications. One of the last initiatives I was involved in with them was going to DC repeatedly to protest the Supreme Court nomination of Brett Kavanaugh—one of several judges responsible for the human and civil rights time warp/ tailspin in which now we find ourselves.
Housing Works shows up. They have been showing up since 1990 and I can vouch for how they show up because I have seen it firsthand for years. I trust them to keep moving and showing up where needed and as needed in the years to come.
Please donate as much as you’re able, and together we’ll keep moving and see where that more hopeful highway goes to.
BRAKING AIDS® Ride 2022 took place yesterday, and I was reminded again of all the reasons it’s always one of my favorite weekends of the year. I had the privilege of being asked to give some brief remarks at the opening ceremony kicking off the ride . My dear ride husband and fellow rider Clay Williams recorded and shared it via Facebook live (thank you, Clay), so I’m able to share it here. Below the video is a written transcript of the full speech.
Good morning,
The first person I knew who had AIDS was my mom’s childhood friend Dennis. Dennis, like my mom, came from an immigrant family, and was like an uncle to me. When he and my mom got together, the air thrummed with laughter and loud yakking in Romanian.
Those gatherings were infrequent because Dennis’ job as a journalist had him jumping from one global political hotspot to the next. But then he’d breeze into town and spark a jam session of multiple languages, dancing, eating, drinking. His laugh was a high-pitched cackle, one that would turn your head to see who had made that sound.
He confided to my mom that he was bisexual, but she believed he was gay. Regardless, his sexuality was a secret. And then, in early 1987 Dennis got sick and he stopped globetrotting. He died in December, and his NY Times obituary led with a common lie: “Dennis A. Volman, a reporter for The Christian Science Monitor, died of cancer Monday at the Mount Sinai Medical Center. He was 37 years old and lived in Washington.”
Dennis died a horrific death of physical agony from AIDS. If he had a partner, he took that secret with him. Only Dennis knew how much his soul suffered from shame and fear. I can only imagine it made a difficult dying process far lonelier.
This next bit I’ve never shared publicly. In 2012, I launched a blog about the ride, and I wrote an entry about Dennis. The blog’s main audience is my network, so imagine my surprise in 2013 to get emails from two strangers. One was a former girlfriend of Dennis’ who found the blog through a google search; she shared the post with the other stranger, an old friend of Dennis’s mom. They each emailed me to debate the historical record: Dennis had died of pneumonia while battling cancer. And why did I think Dennis was gay? The family friend was especially insistent it couldn’t have been homosexuality or AIDS. She cited his affairs with women, his poor health in childhood, his chronic pain from a back injury. From these women, I learned that Dennis had kept his illness secret, too. Only his nearest and dearest heard he was sick with “cancer” shortly before he died.
Our email exchanges ended quickly in a stalemate, but they unnerved me enough to ask my mom how she knew Dennis had AIDS. Apparently, she saw he had KS lesions when she visited him in the hospital.
I don’t judge Dennis for keeping secrets. Homophobia and AIDS stigma were prevalent enough that those choices may have protected him, whatever emotional price he paid. But by 2013, he’d been dead for over 25 years. His parents were dead. He had no children. No siblings. How had stigma, fear, and homophobia re-emerged, overshadowing sense and reason, when those lies protected no one anymore?
So why share this fucking heartbreaker of a story?
Because the shadow side of people’s humanity isn’t the only story. That is never the only story. Seeds of social justice were being planted even then. While Dennis was dying in March 1987, the first meeting of ACT UP was held in the West Village. Three years later, Housing Works was founded out of ACT UP’s housing committee. Both organizations demanded action from a government that ignored AIDS for years. These fiery activists didn’t wait for a grand utopian future; they acted with courage in a seemingly hopeless present, defying the cruelty and ignorance around them. They used civil disobedience to demand better drugs today, not tomorrow. They won those fights and saved countless lives.
Today the fight goes beyond medication; it’s a social justice battle—fighting the racism, homophobia, transphobia, and misogyny that fuel the AIDS epidemic in spite of our medical progress. For over 30 years, Housing Works has fought for social justice, anchored by this belief: that whether we are dying or healthy or somewhere in between, all human beings are deserving of housing, food, healthcare, and basic dignity and respect. Whether it’s AIDS, homelessness, the opioid crisis, COVID-19, or the next challenge, I trust Housing Works to lead with compassion, doing what needs to be done.
All of you are full of those same passions. The same courage, kindness, fierceness. The same miraculous blend of love, laughter, grief, and audacity. I see it every time Beth mentions Ira; when Clay passes me on a hill, again; when I see Cheyenne’s dazzling smile; when Amelia or Amy shouts something lewd at me on the road; when Linda envelopes me in a hug; when Wendy makes a bacon joke; when I see Jim stopping on the road to tell someone why we’re riding and when they say, “I don’t know anyone with HIV or AIDS,” he says, “yes, you do. I live with HIV.” What I see all around me is love—and I see it in every one of you.
These stories, our stories, are worth writing, sharing, expanding, and retelling. We come together on this ride to commemorate our dead and honor our best selves by showing up for those in need, and for one another. This ride is citizenry of the highest order. We have been writing that narrative together as a ride family for years, and the time I spend here with all of you every year heals my own soul on its darkest days. So let’s go write the next chapter.
At the Little Red Lighthouse under the George Washington Bridge, during an August 14, 2022, training ride. Photo by Beth Shapiro.
I shared the video below last Saturday on social media—one of my favorite stories from when I worked at Housing Works, the BRAKING AIDS® ride beneficiary, and I’m only just getting around to posting it here now. My hope is that it lends some new insight into what’s special about Housing Works as an organization, as well as some inspiration for these lifelong journeys in pursuit of greater social justice, particularly when those roads feel long and rough.
As of this writing, thanks to 120 supporters and counting, I’ve raised 45% of my fundraising goal and am still aiming to reach my audacious $50,000 target in support of Housing Works and the fight to end AIDS and homelessness.
Me talking about Housing Works and HIV/AIDS progress in The Amazing Garden, Red Hook, Brooklyn, August 27, 2022.
An important correction and follow-up about language (mine, in this case) :
Well into the video above I try to say something about a statistic—69 individuals with HIV transmitted via injection drug use (IDU)—and underscore that the small size of that group could fit into a Housing Works conference room. In my haste to make that point about data and HIV progress, I end up referring to the statistic—69 IDU-transmitted infections—rather than the human beings, in effect verbally conflating the two. That kind of shorthand happens all the time, and I want to call attention to it here as a mistake on my part. My apologies. I should have said “69 people living with HIV who acquired it through injection drug use,” or something along those lines.
If this language distinction seems like hair splitting, it isn’t: In point of fact we all ought to avoid that same kind of mistake when talking about people living with HIV or any other infectious disease for that matter. The language we use matters. It’s reductive and dehumanizing to frame people only in terms of a disease they live with. People are not mere vectors for disease and illness. People are multifaceted human beings with many rich aspects to their identities, and the language we use when we talk about people living with HIV should reflect that. I misspoke here and endeavor to do better. I decided to post the video with the mistake anyway rather than re-recording it because it was a chance to use my own error as a teaching moment. We all misspeak at times, saying thoughtless or insensitive things that can potentially hurt people or fuel stigma even if that isn’t our intention. The terms we use for racial and ethnic groups change over time; we discover we have been mispronouncing the non-English name of a close friend for years without knowing it; people we have known for decades change their names, pronouns, or both, and at times we may slip and use the words we’re more familiar with; some of us have trouble adjusting to “they/them” being used in multiple contexts, sometimes as a singular, gender-neutral pronoun, sometimes as a plural, gender-neutral pronoun. And on and on. Language is organic and evolving, and sometimes we struggle to evolve with it in our own speech patterns, and we make mistakes along the way. Life and progress calls upon us to rethink and relearn our own first language. The only way people get better about these language nuances is through practice, which is why it’s important to acknowledge when we’ve made a mistake and set an intention to do better next time. I made a mistake here and no doubt I will again—and that’s okay. Like everyone, I’m practicing. As I do, I get better, and the more likely that I’ll say it right next time.
L to R: Friends from the ride Beth Shapiro and Amy Danziger Tenenbaum and me, mugging for the camera during BRAKING AIDS® Ride 2002 :
In less than 40 days, I will be participating in BRAKING AIDS® Ride 2022, benefiting Housing Works, with an aim of raising $50,000 to support Housing Works’ mission to end AIDS and homelessness.
You read that right.
As most of you know, I’ve been participating in this bike ride fundraiser since 2008, in memory of Dennis and Curtis, two family friends who died of AIDS-related illness in 1987 and 2003, respectively, and for many close friends who live with HIV. In recent years, I upped my fundraising goal significantly and thanks to hundreds of folks like you, I’ve raised $23,000 and $26,000 every year for the last three years running. Those fundraising results year after year represent a collective citizenry and good will—a steadfast, commitment from everyone in my social orbit to help make the world a more healing place for our communities, especially those in greatest need.
This year, I’m doubling down and asking everyone I know to help me raise $50K.
$50,000 for my 50th Birthday
I turn 50 in early December. My age each birthday is a number like any other, and 50 is no different. And yet, like my friends who are my age, I’m finding the imminent half-century marker is prompting greater introspection and reflection across all different parts of my life.
I try not to spend a lot of time contemplating my mortality. Death comes for us all eventually. Most of us have no control over when and how. In my experience, there’s little rhyme or reason, much less fairness, to the details of how those cards play out. What I do know for certain: Best-case scenario, if I’m lucky as hell and get to live a very long, well-lived and well-loved life into my 80s or 90s—hopefully keeping my marbles and with the anatomy plumbing still functioning—I’m already more than halfway through my time on this plane of existence.
At this point in my life, I know who and what I care about most, and I want to make the most of the time I have.
My network of friends, family, and colleagues hasn’t gotten significantly bigger. My personal pockets haven’t grown deeper. What has grown deeper is my willingness to believe in radical hope—to know in my core that when it comes to facing serious societal problems head on, audacity in the face of uncertainty and even amidst the grimmest realities has no downside.
I know what I’m asking for is a lot. I’m asking anyway.
Donations of all sizes are welcome, but a gift of $250 or more will go a long way toward reaching my $50,000 goal and enabling Housing Works to do more of the amazing work they do. (For more on what a gift of $250 or more can fund, scroll down to the end of this post.)
Why now? Because audacity makes things happen—and audacity has no age.
I did my very first AIDS ride when I was a 26-year-old graduate student getting an MFA in creative writing. I had no money, no salaried, full-time job, no health insurance. My network of possible donors was small, scrappy, dedicated, and mostly youthful, but not affluent. I worked my tail off hounding everyone I knew. I trained on my bicycle in 90-degree heat, having never gone more than 50 or 60 miles. I raised somewhere between $4,000 and $5,000, more money than I could have conceived of raising and more than double my original goal. My biggest single donation came from a surprising source. Not family or a close friend. Not someone who was wealthy. It was someone I knew through work, a person of modest means who had for a number of years been homeless himself.
Nearly 25 years later, I’ve logged tens of thousands of miles on The Blue Streak, my bicycle, and with the help of hundreds of kind souls like you, I’ve raised over $170,000 and counting to end AIDS and homelessness.
The biggest lesson that first AIDS ride taught me:
To accomplish the extraordinary, you have to do something pretty ordinary—ask people for help and tell them why it matters. The trick is having to do that ordinary thing over and over again. You have to keep showing up, even when it feels tiresome. You ask *everyone* you can think of for help. And then ask again. There’s no downside to that audacity. You never know who will step up to join you.
Why supporting Housing Works specifically, now, is more crucial than ever:
Many people, myself included feel like the world as we know it is on fire, literally and figuratively, in almost every arena, which can make it hard to prioritize a focus. We may support many issues, but our day-to-day time is not infinite. So it’s worth taking a moment to reflect on where we give our time, energy, and financial support and why.
We’ve all spent the last two and a half years and counting under the shadow of a new pandemic, another infectious virus that doesn’t care if our elected officials make sound decisions in the name of public health. If COVID-19 has underscored anything, it’s what AIDS has already taught us over the last 40 years—that communicable disease thrives, above all else, in poverty, injustice, stigma, racism and all other forms of discrimination, hate, and seemingly benign neglect that’s complicit by virtue of silence and inaction.
I was drawn to Housing Works initially because of its holistic approach to its clients and its inclusive and welcoming environment. Most AIDS organizations focus on one or two core services and refer their clients to other agencies for other needs. Housing Works provides a range of integrated crucial programs—the key services clients need not only to survive but to thrive: housing, job training, health care (including primary care, dental, and mental health, not only HIV-specific services), free legal help, substance use treatment, and more.
What makes Housing Works special, however, goes beyond its life-saving HIV/AIDS and housing services; it’s the intense commitment to social justice and compassionate care. Those guiding principles and values date back to Housing Works’ cultural roots beginning in the early 1990s—so social justice and compassion are deeply embedded into all their life-saving services and in how they provide them, with as much dignity, accessibility, and equity as possible. That same fiery social justice and expansive compassion are also reflected in when and how Housing Works shows up during emergency-level social crises, even those that extend beyond the issues of AIDS and homelessness.
When emergencies happen, as they inevitably do, Housing Works doubles down on their audacity and commitment to being a force for healing.
Housing Works has boots on the ground, thoughtful and strategic expertise to offer, and a willingness to pursue and invest in innovations today that become tomorrow’s wisdom.
My friend and former colleague, incredible HIV advocate Valerie Reyes-Jimenez, in DC in Sept. 2018, during one of several protests against Brett Kavanaugh’s Supreme Court nomination
Year after year, decade after decade, audacity and compassion are how Housing Works shows up. During my five years working at Housing Works heading up the Advocacy Department’s initiatives, whatever social crisis came our way—from mounting annual “Get Out the Vote” campaigns, to supporting the Black Lives Matter movement, to bussing hundreds of New Yorkers to DC for The Women’s March, to protests on Capitol Hill to fight off repeated attempts to repeal the Affordable Care Act, to organizing non-violent civil disobedience actions in response to the nomination of Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court—the approach was the same. (If you need a visual reminder of how Housing Works has embodied audacity in support of social justice for 30 years and counting, check out the timeline at the end of this post.)
Housing Works takes on the expected and the unexpected in equal measure.
When new, unanticipated challenges arise, Housing Works doesn’t say “or,” they say “and.”
THE BIRTHDAY PRESENT I WANT FROM YOU: To Say “And” Instead of “Or”
Housing Works has my deep, ongoing commitment not only because I believe their mission is comprised of one of the most critical social justice issues of the past half-century—but because I trust them to always be on the front lines, doing what needs to be done and then some—for ending AIDS and homelessness as well whatever other unexpected challenges and related causes arise. I know that whatever additional emergencies come our way, Housing Works will step up without hesitation and rise to the occasion to do what’s needed.
Me being goofy during NYC Pride, June 2022
I don’t have the mojo to expand or remake SCOTUS. I don’t have the immunology genius to cure AIDS or COVID. In lieu of that, I want to do as much as I can during my lifetime to stem that rough social-justice tide, even just a bit. A big part of that for me takes the form of deepening my existing commitments.
In that spirit, I kicked off my own fundraising with a donation of $1,000. Only $49,000 to go!
Please donate today! Donations of all sizes fare welcome, but a gift of $250 or more is especially helpful. Some info on what your gift underwrites:
$250—Pays for 50 hygiene kits for homeless youth, with daily essentials like soap, deodorant, and a pill-sized tablet cloth that expands into a towel when you add water
$600—Covers the cost for 50 rapid HIV tests
$750—Feeds 375 homeless youth during evening drop-in hours at Housing Works’ East New York Health Center
$1,000—Provides 1 month of supportive housing for HIV-positive individuals
$1,500—Completely outfits 5 new single-unit apartments with household items
$2,500—Provides transportation for a week for HW’s mobile COVID teams
$3,500—Funds a bus and stipends to send 54 advocates to Albany
$5,000—Funds a bus and stipends to send 54 advocates to Washington, DC, and provides bail money for 10 advocates to take an arrest for civil disobedience
Thank you in advance for your time and support. I can’t do this without you.
This spring, a friend emailed a photo of me, taken in September 2008 during my first BRAKING AIDS® Ride, that I had never seen before. In the months since, I have found myself returning to what it does and doesn’t reveal.
Me, during my first BRAKING AIDS® Ride, September 26, 2008
The first anomaly is that it doesn’t appear to be raining. The downpours during that 2008 ride from Gettysburg, PA, to Manhattan were near-constant all three days. Throughout the weekend, I recall only a handful of brief respites during which it wasn’t wet, and this photo must have been taken during one of them. All I remember of the moment itself was taking a break with two other first-time riders to drink in the vibrancy of that gorgeous field of sunflowers. While we were stopped, the ride photographer—who was probably psyched to be able to take some pictures that weren’t rain-soaked—urged us to go stand in that patch of floral sunshine with our bikes. I no longer recall if the photo was snapped on Day 1 or Day 2 of the ride; my instinct says the sunflowers were a Day 1 sighting. What I am certain of is that it was early enough in the ride that I hadn’t reached the halfway mark yet.
Beyond the setting and the weather, what strikes me about the image is that it exudes the joy and excitement I had doing this ride for the very first time.
What’s not visible are all the expectations and fears I had going into the ride.
I was deeply invested in riding every single mile, all 300 of them—a goal I’d never attempted much less achieved at that point. Nothing in this photo reveals how scared and anxious part of me was of falling short of that desired milestone.
I was entirely uncertain I could raise $3,500, much less $10K, or $15K, or $20K. Quite simply, I had never asked for that kind of help—and so I was ignorant, both of my own tenacity and of the deep generosity and kindness of my family, friends, and colleagues.
I was also nervous about fitting into the ride family, worried that I’d feel alone. When I registered for the ride in April 2008, I didn’t know anyone. I’d met and trained with a handful of folks during the summer, but I knew we wouldn’t necessarily stick together throughout the actual ride itself. So I went in to the ride weekend excited—searching for and hopeful about a sense of connection and belonging—but I didn’t know how any of that would play out.
None of that is apparent in the look on my face in this photo. Looking at it now, I seem to radiate an inner confidence and solidity. Those qualities may well have been burning deep beneath the surface, but if they were there, I wasn’t yet aware of it. I look grounded, and I know that isn’t how I was feeling at that point. I was open to what the road was going to bring, but uncertain about almost everything except my desire to attempt what felt impossible, even a little crazy.
This photo of me hollering my way up a hill is visually more in line with how I felt going into my first BRAKING AIDS® Ride.
Housing Works: 30 Years and Counting of Compassion, Healing & Audacity
Housing Works has been dedicated to doing audacious, necessary work that often feels impossible, even a little crazy, since its founding in 1990, providing lifesaving services to mostly poor, disenfranchised communities. In the early 1990s, that meant finding housing for homeless people with AIDS who had been cast to the margins by the rest of our society; it meant practicing harm reduction methods like needle exchange for drug users—then new and hugely controversial but now long proven to be one of the most effective HIV prevention interventions and indeed one of the most effective public health interventions, period.*
* (The proof is in the data: In 1993, at the height of the AIDS epidemic, 50% of the 15,000 new HIV infections experienced every year in NY State were transmitted via shared needles; by 2018, as a result of harm reduction programs, fewer than 70 new HIV infections—yes, 70; you read that correctly—were transmitted via shared needles annually across NY State.)
Since 2014, Housing Works has been leading the charge in the effort to end AIDS as an epidemic in New York State by 2020, with CEO Charles King appointed by Governor Cuomo to chair the Ending the Epidemic Task Force that drafted the state plan. New York State was the first jurisdiction to create an end-AIDS plan, and that bold vision has led dozens of other states and local government to follow suit.
As you all know, just a few months into 2020, the goal year, we were hit with a new, fatal, global pandemic and public health emergency. Housing Works did what it always does in a crisis: They sprang into thoughtful, intelligent, and immediate action to meet the needs of the most vulnerable who are always hit hardest. Rather than cutting back on their lifesaving AIDS, housing, and advocacy services, the organization both adapted existing programs to the new remote conditions—providing housing, healthcare, advocacy, case management, substance use treatment, legal assistance, and job training—and took on a leadership role in meeting the COVID-19 pandemic head on. A fuller summary of Housing Works’ COVID-19 initiatives, most of which are ongoing, can be foundhere, but highlights include:
supplying and distributing PPE to frontlines workers
opening COVID-19 homeless shelters
providing free COVID-19 testing and vaccination, including a mobile vaccination initiative at NYC HRA shelters
Perhaps one of their most important ongoing roles in the COVID-19 pandemic is the one Housing Works has always played in its relationship to government: as advocates and activists pushing our city and state to do more and do better for those at greatest risk, especially low-income people and the homeless.
For 30 years and counting, Housing Works has stepped up to face and solve whatever crisis comes their way.
That’s why I ride every year to support this important organization. This September will be my 13th BRAKING AIDS® Ride (12 rides as a rider, one as a volunteer crew member)—a one-day, in-person group event. Since that first ride in 2008, I’ve ridden tens of thousands of miles on the same blue bicycle I held overhead in that field of sunflowers, and I’ve shown up every year to do my part to create awareness and raise money—over $148,000 to date—to end AIDS and homelessness.
How You and I Can Help
In support of Housing Works’ ongoing dedication and audacity, between now and September, I remain committed to raising $20,000 to support their life-saving programs.
My personal wishes and goals for this year’s ride are similar to the ones I have more generally coming out of a year and a half of deeply fraught, uncertain pandemic living:
Please DONATE TODAY. Donations of all sizes are welcome, but a gift of $200 or more will go a long way toward reaching my $20,000 goal.
I want to enter it grounded in the spirit of self-renewal and self-compassion, with rejuvenated and deepened commitment, vitality, passion, excitement, joy, and above all, gratitude. I want my spirits to thrum with the bright audacity of field of sunflowers—so that my thoughts, feelings, and pursuits glow with some measure of that resolute vibrancy.
Me, joyful during BRAKING AIDS® Ride 2019, the last time the group ride event took place in person
Ways to make giving easier, to make your donation go further & to help me reach my $20K goal sooner:
PLEASE CHECK WITH YOUR HR DEPT. & SEE IF YOUR COMPANY WILL MATCH YOUR DONATION! If so, then check the “YES” bullet in the Company Matching section of the online donation form, and fill out the related information. You may be able to double or even triple your contribution! In 2020, over $3K of the $24,000+ I raised came from company matches, so I cannot underscore enough how much this helps.
Recurring Monthly Gift: On the donation page, once you select a gift amount, click on the “Donate Monthly” option to set up a recurring donation of any amount over your desired period of time. I prefer to donate this way because I can give more with much smaller hit coming from my wallet each month.
Cover Processing Costs: Each donation incurs a processing fee that’s 4% of your gift. When the overall fundraising goal is $20K, 4% adds up: If everyone who gives covers the processing fee, that’s an additional $800 that goes straight to work at Housing Works.
Please forward this information to EVERYONE. Spread the word to your friends, family & colleagues! Forward this email letter or share my donation link with your own networks on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram & other social media.
Thank you again for all of your support for this important cause. I couldn’t do any of this without you.
Please join me & Housing Works in the fight against AIDS by donating to Braking AIDS® Ride 2021 (Sept. 12)—Mika De Roo, Rider # 32.
The Blue Streak 