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