PHA Voices

October 1, 1995
Candle Light Vigil

On June 30, 1994, Dr. Kirby Hsu represented the Gay Asian AIDS Project at the Candlelight Vigil behind the 519 Church Street Community Centre. It was an opportunity to mourn and remember those who have died of AIDS. The following is a draft of the reading he gave that evening.

June 30, 1994 (Draft Outline, by Kirby Hsu)

You know sometimes how the phone rings in a psychic kind of way. Without even answering you know what it's about. I have lost so many of my friends that I've started my own AIDS memorial at home. You won't find their names in the real memorial in Cawthra Park. It makes me angry that they still couldn't get over the shame. Other times it's because of consideration for the family. They felt they've caused enough trouble already. I don't like the sounds of this at all but this is my reality.

Inside, my tears flow into a river of despair. Outside, like a brave soldier, I keep marching on. There is really too much work to be done. Today I pause and take count.

It suits me well that I was brought up to be stoic about my suffering. My years of training keeps me going during my darkest times. The only drawback is that it does not make it easy for me to grieve.

Public display of emotions is frowned on in my culture. Except if you are mourning for your elders. It is respectful to cry when your elders die. They insist on it. It is disrespectful, however, to die before your elders. In fact it is bad luck for an elder to go to the funeral of someone younger.

We worship our ancestral tablets in hope that they will bring us good luck. There are many superstitions in our culture but I'm not superstitious at all. I feel no particular affiliation with the Kitchen God or his wife. From deep within me, however, there is an understanding of the yin and yang, the fonshei, the wind and the water that determine the destiny of our lives.

There is serenity in the knowledge that the balance of forces is part of nature's way. Death surely follows life. But that is not the end, there is more. The Chinese like to balance the bitterness of life with sweetness.

When you go to a Chinese funeral, you get this packaged envelope. It does not contain a condom. It has a sweet in it which you will eat to spend to bring you good luck. And you throw the envelope away to discard your bad luck. The balance of the goodness and badness of life is thus restored.

The Chinese have very forgiving, compassionate beliefs compared to western religions. It doesn't matter how bad you have been in your life, there are ways of sending you to heaven still. We burn paper money to bribe the evil spirits to leave you on your way to heaven. We can also send the dead whatever they want in the next world Ñ these often include a house, a big car, and lots of money. We then offer fruits and incense so they live in plentiful ways. In return they will bring us good wind and water. Their misfortunes will surely be balanced with good luck for the rest of us.

I would like to dedicate this reading to Jud, Steve, Paul, Tony, Len, Trung, Eric, Alex, Tom, and to all my friends living with HIV and especially to those who died alone without telling anyone.

(I shall be performing some of the rituals mentioned above and distributing some envelope packages by leaving them at the door.)

October 1, 1995
ACAS Remembers Dr. Kirby Hsu 1954 - 1995

Aries Cheung:

"As a psychiatrist and community counsellor, Kirby kept a professional distance. But every now and then, his strong compassion betrayed him. His warmth and care made their presence felt in a way that was subtle but definite. I recall all the moments I spent with him, only to realize how much I missed."

Tony Marhong:

"Gone, but not forgotten - God bless you and keep you safe until we meet! Love always!"

Eva Sin:

"I truly admired Kirby's commitment to furthering the causes of his community, especially ensuring that the Asian PHA voice was heard. His sense of community and vision will serve to guide my work and, most importantly, the completion of the Asian Volunteer Training and Co-ordination Modules."

William Lau:

"I met Kirby last April at ACAS, he looked reserved at first, but one can recognize immediately the leadership quality in him by his passion, dedication and commitment toward the community. Although Kirby is no longer with us physically, the legacy he left behind will serve as a role model for other gay Asians to follow in many years to come."

Len Lopez:

"Kirby's commitment and dedication to our community will be remembered. In spite of all the hats Kirby wore at ACAS, it was through his writing that I felt I really got to know him. I will miss him very much."

October 1, 1995
Dr. Kirby Hsu Memorial
by Dr. Alan Li, ACAS President

On July 13, 1995 gay Asian communities mourned the loss of one of their brightest leaders and dedicated volunteers, Dr. Kirby Hsu. He was 40. Kirby was a long-time member and volunteer of Gay Asians Toronto, the Gay Asian AIDS Project (GAAP) and the new Asian Community AIDS Services. Shortly after the inception of GAAP in 1990, Kirby joined the Advisory Board.

In 1992 he became the co-chair of the project. With his skill as a professional psychiatrist and his experience as an Asian person with AIDS, he dedicated countless hours to ensure that clients got the best and most comprehensive care they could receive, and the organizations stayed true to their goals and grassroots. At GAAP and the Asian Community AIDS Services (ACAS), Kirby facilitated the Support Group for people with AIDS and HIV, supervised the counsellors' client care, chaired the Support Program Committee and worked on the front line as a volunteer.

He worked hard to make sure the voices of people with AIDS are heard and that their needs guide the organization. And he was instrumental in encouraging many to participate actively. A multi-talented man, Kirby was also a writer, photographer and a video artist. He wrote countless articles, stories and personal reflections on being gay, being Asian and having HIV.

He made several videos on people with AIDS and their families as a tool for promoting peer support and decreasing isolation. His last video was an overview of the ACAS program, prepared for the May Open House. Kirby's ability to catch the moment through the lens of a camera was always rewarding for others.

His pictures graced the pages of the gay CelebrAsian magazine and pamphlets and posters. Kirby also participated in the arts against AIDS exhibit A Day Without Art at A-Space, as well as in the Racy Sexy Festival in Vancouver. Kirby's passing is a monumental loss that shook the whole organization and Asian communities.

"Ours is a smaller community within a small community. When someone as dedicated as Kirby leaves us, it creates a vacuum that no one can fill. There can never be another man who has given so much of himself as Kirby did," says Andre Goh, Vice-President of Administration at ACAS.

Kirby served on the ACAS board and program committees up until three weeks before his death. One of his final efforts was to set up the Asian PHA Activity Fund. The ACAS Board has renamed it: Dr. Kirby Hsu's PHA Activity Fund.

The Counselling Room of ACAS (at 33 Isabella St.) will also be renamed: Kirby's Room

Kirby is survived by his lover Ho, dear friends Kathy and Michael and his family. Contributions in his memory can be made to Casey House Hospice (9 Huntley St., Toronto M4Y 2K8).

May 1, 1995
My Family and AIDS
by Xu Jingour

One of the most difficult thing for me about dying from AIDS is the pain it causes the people who care about me. Sometimes people don't show their feelings until they are about to lose you. I have never been particularly close to my family on an emotional level. They have always taken an attitude of non-interference with my life. They trust that I can take care of myself and I know what is best for me. This, in fact, has made it easier for them to come to terms with my homosexuality.

My parents have known for years that I live with my lover. They have accepted him as part of the family without question. But we have never talked about it. They have never asked one question, even when I changed relationships. It is the Chinese way. At least it is our way. There is an implicit understanding. I don't flaunt it in their face and they let me do what I want. It was the first time I had confronted my parents with something about myself when I told them I have AIDS. A rule I set for myself over the years of revealing my HIV status has always been based on necessity.

For years I lived with HIV without telling my parents because I figure they can't do anything about it. Disclosing it to them will only make them worry and helpless. Last fall when I took ill with CMV retinitis, I had to tell my parents because I had to stop work and I had to have some day surgery in the hospital. They'll have to know because of the imminent drastic changes in my life. Before I told my parents, I had disclosed to two of my brothers over the past few years. They had reacted well and were supportive. It gave me comfort and confidence.

But I wasn't sick then. When I told my younger brother, I knew he was educated about HIV and was liberal. Having known for some time that I am gay, I figured telling him that I am HIV positive would not be a surprise. I took him to dinner in a restaurant one night and casually told him over dessert. He became very upset and balled his eyes out. I wouldn't make that same mistake again. As expected there was no question asked when I called my parents for a family meeting. They could sense it was serious. Living with AIDS has trained me to be very practical. When the time comes I simply have to do what I have to do. I didn't know how to be subtle or discreet about it. I simply said I am now living with AIDS and my life as they had known it was to end.

My mother and sister were very upset over the news. They cried, naturally. My sister was very supportive and reassuring. She will do what she could to help. My mother was too upset to say much. So my father spoke for her. He explained that it is just too painful for her think of losing a child. A child who is so young to her. Maybe it's because they have not been involved in my life, maybe it's because we didn't communicate enough, but I feel I have lived a full life. I have no regret about dying. I know my suffering will end when I die. The thought is a relief. But for my family they have to carry on from there and live with the pain for a long time. Never mind the fact that my mother can't deal with that.

When I think about it, I don't know how to deal with that. I don't know how to help them deal with that. My father has reacted to my news in his typical stoic intellectual way. He has been through a number of significant loses in his life and having survived World War II and the communist take-over in China. These experiences have made him practical. "Everybody has to die," he said. "It's just that some die younger." Emotions are, however, not that simple. Like my older brother, who tends to be more traditional, my father has been getting angry about every little thing since they found out how sick I am.

They are not angry with me, but I know they are angry about the situation. We still can't talk about it. It is not our way. I agree with my father that AIDS is only an illness. In his life time, there were typhoid, tuberculosis and other epidemics. With AIDS, though, my parents insist that it has to be kept a secret. It has now been five months - they still cannot deal with the rest of the family knowing. I don't judge their way. I sense they feel a lot of shame. My illness will cause them to save face before the relatives. Their own families might even be unsympathetic and ostracizing. At least that is the fear. It makes me angry with myself that I have to bring all this trouble on to my family. I have always been able to bear the burden of caring for myself. Now I feel I have no choice but drag them into this mess. I supposed I could have kept everything secret and just die quietly. I don't think I can live with that. It is not my way. I have learned to be proud of my being gay through a long process of soul searching and empowerment. Now I can do it again for living with AIDS.

That is why I feel I have to speak out. It is very difficult for me write about my family in such a public way. If I don't speak out there will be no discussion, no understanding. Breaking the conspiracy of silence is the only way I know how to be helpful. I have to stand up and be proud. Hopefully there will be enough empathic souls to stand by me and my family so we don't have to hide in shame. Now it is up to you. I can only hope.