Scott Hitt Foundation

Charities will lose young people to other professions

unless they start doing a better job of preparing early

and mid career employees for leadership positions."


--Chronicles of Philanthropy, August 9, 2007

 
             

ABOUT Our Founder SCOTT HITT
September 28, 1958 - November 8, 2007

Scott Hitt

Originally published in IN Los Angeles Magazine, August 10, 2007

R. Scott Hitt is best known as an extraordinary fundraiser  and the Los Angeles-based AIDS doctor who served as Chair of the President’s Advisory Council on HIV/AIDS during the Clinton administration. He also co-founded Access Now  for Gay and Lesbian Equality (ANGLE); founded the American Academy of HIV Medicine; and has served on the boards of numerous AIDS and LGBT organizations, including AIDS Project Los Angeles, the AIDS Healthcare Foundation and Equality  California.  Hitt, who lives with his beloved “soul mate” of 26 years, artist Alex Koleszar, is battling  inoperable colon cancer. —Karen Ocamb

Until I came out to my divorced mom in 1979 at age 21, one-night  encounters with relative strangers were about the best one could hope for in the small city of Tucson, Arizona. In my mind I was just “experimenting” with gay sex from age 12 to 21 and it was nobody else’s business.

Most of those “experiments” were an exercise in the cycle of excitement, fear, finishing the “dirty  deed,” lying to myself and others, then blocking it from my mind.

But there was a dark secret that started years before puberty—something that deeply affected my life for decades.  My mom re-married  when I was 8 years old. He was a “stay-at-home step-dad” and she continued to work full time.  For the next two years, this 35-year-old man first seduced, then continued to molest and rape me until one day, without a word, he disappeared.

I learned a lot during the time he lived with us—most of it bad. I learned about secrets, shame, manipulation and  what I thought was love.  I was an easy target—he was  the first person in my life who was able to give me the attention I craved.  I was a latch-key only child who returned from grade school every day to an empty trailer home.  He rescued me from my intense loneliness, but at a terrible price.

I also learned what other people thought of gay people, including my grandmother, who would make derogatory statements about homosexuals.

It got worse in college.  Although I was always afraid someone  might find out about my secrets, I was very much an extrovert on campus.  I was involved with many student groups—I  was president of my fraternity, a member of Bobcats, and I was elected as one of the eight student senators at U of  A.  During one of our senate meetings, one student suggested  we use funds allotted for a gay and lesbian club to buy guns to kill the approximate 15-20 “fags” who were part of that on-campus club.

I remember feeling paralyzed in my chair.  I so desperately  wanted to jump up and scream at this fool and call him everything I could imagine.   But I stayed in my seat—completely  silent.  I was in the closet and too afraid to confront him.  If I responded to his sick idea, then everyone in that room would suspect my motivation.

The best I was able to do was to anonymously report his statements to the university’s school newspaper editor, who, to my surprise and delight, made it an article that was completely supportive of the gay and lesbian club, and highly condemning of the student senator. Sadly, the student senator was only  chastised by the school newspaper—he was never forced  to leave his position—an implicit message of acceptance  of gay bashing from both the school’s administration, and its 40,000 students.

It took me several years to sort through my life and to finally decide to come out, but it was the single most powerful antidote to my fears and to any thoughts that I was less than my heterosexual  counterparts because of my sexuality. I was able to deepen  my relationship with my mother, sisters and friends (with  a couple of exceptions) by removing this secret that caused me shame.

And, by coming out I had a chance to stand up for what I  believed, and to put a real face on the word “gay” for  the people I came into contact with.  It empowered me, and it was the beginning of my activism as a gay man.

I have not always done it perfectly.  But when you see how  the Bush administration has used the LGBT community to divide the country and demonize us in particular, there is so much  work that must be done, we can’t wait for perfection.  We must continue to develop individuals from within our own  community who can articulate our positions, stand up against  the radical right and help see to it that America is not  duped into believing that there is any group that should  ever be treated differently than how they would have their  own sons and daughters treated.

This is my passion today.  I have metastatic colon cancer,  and after eight years of surgeries, chemotherapy, radiation,  etc., I decided to try and focus my attention toward doing  what I can to help the next generation.  I want to do what  I can to help develop, mentor and train the next group of  leaders in the LGBT community.  When I look at community-based organizations and their board meetings, I wonder who will  replace the leaders I have had the honor of meeting and working  with.  Who will pick up the mantle and do what needs to be  done to ensure future LGBT generations won’t be whitewashed from the pages of history?

I feel people do not leave a single legacy—it is a  lifelong body of work.  Mine includes my true partnership  with Alex; the patients I cared for over the years, determining  what combination of therapies would help them survive to  the next level; and the organizations I have served.  They  are all part of my legacy, and they all brought me a great  deal of fulfillment.

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