HEART OF STEELE

Picture it: rural Minnesota, 1989.

The AIDS epidemic was hitting families hard, and state lawmakers had mandated AIDS education in schools.

It wasn’t going over well.

In the small school district I covered, a group of educators charged with figuring out the new requirements found a solution: an educational play about a high school student struggling with his AIDS diagnosis. The presentation also included a movie about people living with AIDS, including a gay couple who shared an on-screen kiss.

You can probably imagine how well that went over. 

Parents from a local church stormed school board meetings. When the superintendent could not say for sure what was being taught in classrooms, the board suspended sex and AIDS education classes for the remainder of the school year–about four weeks.

That wasn’t a problem. But if trustees didn’t reinstate AIDS education by the fall, the district would lose thousands of dollars in state funding.

I wrote weekly about all of this, including an outstanding presentation from epidemiologist Dr. Michael Osterholm, who explained the AIDS virus in language everyone could understand. The Star Tribune picked up on our coverage and did a story of their own.

That led two young men to drive up from the Twin Cities and talk to me about ACT UP – the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power. Founded in 1987, the group had one mission: to raise awareness about the disease that was decimating their community.

Gay activists started attending board meetings to counter the fear-mongering and misleading information–accusations that all gay people recruited children and had been sexually abused by their parents, for instance.

Eventually, board meetings drew all kinds of people on both sides of the issue. Officials started meeting in a school cafeteria to accommodate the crowds. 

Then on a sunny Sunday in July, dozens of ACT UP protestors rolled into our small town on buses and motorcycles for a rally in front of the Assemblies of God church. Locals knew they were coming; police and sheriff’s deputies arrived early to ensure a peaceful event.

While there was no physical violence, that summer tore the community apart. The district brought back AIDS education–they really had no choice–but the curriculum was still under debate by the time I left town.

We’ve all come a long way since the summer of 1989, a time when fear and ignorance drove the conversation. Of course, we will always have differences of opinion. But events like Rainbowtonna’s July 8 Pride in the Park offer the entire community a chance to accept–and even celebrate–those differences.

Organizers have put their hearts into creating a fun event. I wish them nothing but good weather and great success.