Mark King’s life is anything but tragic.

Despite living through the darkest days of the HIV epidemic – losing friends and confronting his own diagnosis before any effective treatment existed – the now-65-year-old survivor looks back at his journey as one of triumph.

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“My joy is a big f**k you to AIDS,” the longtime activist and journalist told LGBTQ Nation. “My joy is a big f**k you to Trump.”

Indeed, King’s light has endured across decades of dark times, with his ability to see the fabulous side of life a shimmering secret protection.

“Even in the most murderous days of the AIDS epidemic, we had a sense of humor,” he said. “AIDS protests were hilarious… Putting an enormous condom over the home of Senator Jesse Helms was hilarious.”

In 2003, King launched his award-winning blog (and now book), My Fabulous Disease, which chronicles his life as an HIV positive gay man in recovery from drug addiction. He started the blog because he was sick of feeling stigmatized and tired of the baggage accompanying his lifetime diagnosis.

“I’m tired of internalizing that,” he thought. “I am f**king fabulous. I’m not going to take on the characteristics that people have put on this disease. If it’s going to live in me, it’s going to take on my characteristics, not the other way around.”

Clearly, his idea resonated. His work has been recognized repeatedly, and this past month, he was inducted into the LGBTQ+ Journalist Hall of Fame.

“The collective voices of HIV positive people… are a roadmap to how we deal with adversity,” he said in his acceptance speech.

He hopes his attitude can inspire today’s queer young people to stand up for what they deserve while still finding ways to enjoy life. Aging gay men, he admits, “have kind of a sad reputation,” but he is determined to elude the fate he has seen assigned to so many others.

“It might be a cliché in the gay men’s community, at least, that you have a certain expiration date,” he said. “Suddenly, you are invisible in the bars and the grocery stores.”

King refuses to fade into the background. He simply has too much to say.

Trauma as empathy

King is clear that he’s not here to regale young people with stories of his traumatic past. Because, as he explained, “What does that have to do with them?”

Instead, he hopes to help queer people confront the present.

“It takes a certain generosity of spirit from somebody like me to not want to go around and just tell my tragedy,” he said, “and instead say, this is something that happened to me that gives me the capacity to have more empathy for someone else, and that I can bring that experience into any conversation without saying it.”

The AIDS epidemic is “not a blunt instrument with which to knock over young people,” he said, referencing a 2013 piece he wrote that expressed a similar sentiment. Every generation has its challenges, after all (and this one’s certainly got many). As such, King knows HIV survivors must “use what happened to us as a source of empathy for somebody else.”

His message to young folks, then, is that what happened in the 80s and 90s lives on inside them. “It is in your DNA. We are your elders, you are our legacy. You can accomplish great things.”

He sees many similarities between today’s hostile climate and the anti-gay environment perpetuated by the indifference of Ronald Reagan to the suffering of gay men.

“Crisis hotlines are being unplugged. HIV prevention and treatment is being unplugged. People will die. It might not seem as immediate and in your face as what I had to face, but it’s there.”

But he sees one big difference between now and then: the diversity of activists gaining ground today.

“All of those cameras in the ’80s trained on all of those white bodies. Why weren’t they trained on the Black allies that were there beside us? Because Black people dying was nothing new. It was new that white, privileged people were dying… The resistance today looks a lot more like our actual community.”

King has spoken more than once about AIDS activists leaving people of color behind, a mistake he desperately hopes is not repeated today.

“They say often about this current administration that cruelty is the point. Racism is the point. Transphobia is the point. That’s a winning strategy for them… So we cannot shy away from those political talking points that we think are losing points for us just because it makes people uncomfortable. There’s nothing wrong with being uncomfortable. It’s growth, and we need that growth in our own community.”

He pleaded that LGBTQ+ people don’t buy into the idea that trans inclusion will cause our downfall. “Don’t let them lop off letters from LGBTQ as if it will hold the wolves at bay a little longer. It’s not going to. They’re coming for all of us.”

Paving the way

King knows that in many ways, he remains a Guinea pig for those coming of age today. He knows he’ll be watched for how his HIV-positive body handles aging, and to see what decades on the medication do to a person. Ultimately, he knows he’ll be watched for how long he lives, and he is okay with that.

“We paved the way,” he said. “We put our bodies on the line so that somebody else might live better, longer, healthier. That’s good enough for me.”

For now, he is celebrating the milestone of his 65^th year with a virtual birthday bash this December. Ever the activist, the party will also be a fundraiser for The Reunion Project, an organization that connects long-term survivors of HIV. Maintaining a sense of purpose, he said, will help him age with dignity and can help him combat the loneliness that so often afflicts older people.

On his website, he attributes his longevity to the love of his husband, good health care, and double chocolate brownies. His advice to others seeking to stick around for a long time: Don’t take yourself too seriously.

“Find the joy in the next piece of cake. Write outside the lines. Do something naughty… This is as corny as it gets, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned in 40 years, it’s that we are here to help somebody else. This life can be scary… and we’re here to make the ride a little less scary for someone else.”

“Help somebody else. That’s the sort of thing you’re supposed to knit into a throw pillow, but it’s true.”

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