Just Say No to Nancy Reagan

Today I was supposed to be heading to the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library in Simi Valley about 40 miles outside Los Angeles.

The reason? My best friend and I were going to go to an exclusive gala and dinner to celebrate the opening of Nancy Reagan—A First Lady’s Style, an exhibit of more than 80 of her gowns, dresses and suits. It seemed like a hoot: hobnobbing at this campy chic soiree with Nancy, her best buddy, Betsy Bloomingdale, the night’s master of ceremonies, Diane von Furstenberg, and hosts Carolina Herrera and James Galanos.

But something didn’t feel right as I got my tuxedo out of the closet and packed my bag.

You see, two of my uncles died from AIDS-related illnesses. David Goldstein was just 37 years old when he passed in 1989. Less than two years later, we lost Arthur a few days shy of his 44th birthday. My grandparents were both alive when they were forced to say goodbye to their two youngest children.

President Reagan and his First Lady did nothing for my uncles and the countless other gay men who died and continue to die from HIV/AIDS. Ronnie, as Mrs. Reagan lovingly called her late husband, allowed precious years to pass without comment before finally, publicly acknowledging AIDS in 1985 after it was disclosed that Rock Hudson had AIDS three months before.

Even then, the president did not even say the word AIDS even as his own people were dying of it. It's almost unimaginable, an elected leader ignoring a disease spreading across the country. His nonresponse to the so-called "gay cancer" is what helped launch ACT Up's Silence = Death campaign. His lack of leadership, lack of compassion, lack of simple human decency, I can't forgive.

It's why I cannot bring myself to go to a glitzy party to honor his wife Nancy, even as she's joined by fashionistas like Kevan Hall, Kenneth Jay Lane and Monique Lhuillier.

HIV/AIDS ravaged the fashion industry. Seventh Avenue became a ghost town at the height of the epidemic. Halston and Perry Ellis are just two of the names we will never forget, but there were countless others who worked behind the seams like hairstylists, photographers, makeup artists and retail salesmen who were never given the chance to realize their dreams and their God-given potentials. Every one of these men, in one way or another, played a part in Nancy’s now legendary wardrobe.

So many beautiful and creative gay men suffered and eventually died while Mrs. Reagan lined her White House closets with couture.

As I was thinking about all this, I mentioned Williwear to my assistant.

“I’ve never heard of Williwear,” he said.

My assistant was just three years old when Williwear designer, Willi Smith, died after contracting shigella and pneumonia as a result of AIDS in 1987. Smith was 39 at the time of his death, and his company was selling $25 million worth of clothing a year.

If the Reagans had shown true leadership in the fight against HIV/AIDS, I believe there’s a strong possibility that Smith, my uncles and countless others would be alive today. Instead of Googling Williwear, my assistant should be wearing Williwear.

Von Furstenberg and her pals will ogle Nancy’s wardrobe tonight. The exhibit, says literature from the Reagan Library, “will illustrate the important roles Mrs. Reagan played in the White House.”

But we must not forget the role she played in ignoring HIV/AIDS.

For such a long time, I wished so much ill will against the Reagans. But now, I pray for our former First Lady. I pray that one day she acknowledges not so much what she did during her years in the White House, but what she didn’t do.

Until then, I will just say no to Nancy Reagan.