In the Footsteps of a Lion

Honoring Larry Kramer

In the Footsteps of a Lion: Honoring Larry Kramer
By Lady LiberTea

Greetings, my dear readers, and welcome back. You’ve made it through another week in this upside-down, inside-out reality we seem to be living in. If no one has said it yet: I see you. Congratulations on making it out of bed today. That is enough. You are enough. You deserve love, kindness, and compassion—not because you’ve earned them, but because you’re human. You are valued. You are important.

While I usually dive headfirst into the turbulent waters of politics (and don’t worry, we’ll get there), today I want to take a moment, under the gentle light of a gorgeous spring day, to introduce you to one of my personal heroes—someone whose anger changed the world. His name was Larry Kramer, and if you don’t know it, I’m honored to be the one to tell you why you should.

The Making of a Firebrand

Larry Kramer was many things: a writer, a gay rights activist, an iconoclast, and perhaps above all, a truth-teller—no matter how uncomfortable that truth might be. He began his career in Hollywood, penning the screenplay for Women in Love (1969), which earned him an Academy Award nomination. But his trajectory changed when he turned inward—toward his community, his truth, and his rage.

In 1978, Larry released Faggots, a novel that set the LGBTQ community ablaze—not in celebration, but in fury. The book, a sharp critique of gay sexual culture at the time, portrayed a community caught in a whirlwind of disco, drugs, and sex, disconnected from intimacy and love. It was pulled from shelves at the Oscar Wilde Bookstore, the only gay bookstore in New York at the time. He was banned from his local grocery store in Fire Island. Even mainstream media refused to touch it.

The backlash was swift and severe. And yet, Faggots has never gone out of print.

No one would argue that Larry’s portrayal was flattering. This author certainly wouldn’t. But hidden within its brutal honesty was a desperate plea: we can do better. He wasn’t mocking love—he was begging for it. He wanted more for his community, and he refused to stay quiet about it.

The Fire Ignites: AIDS and Activism

Larry never intended to become a political activist. But then came the AIDS crisis.

In the early 1980s, as his friends began to fall ill, he co-founded the Gay Men’s Health Crisis (GMHC), the first major organization to support people with what was then called GRID—Gay-Related Immune Deficiency. But Larry didn’t want to stop at services and support. He wanted funding. He wanted action. He wanted war.

The board at GMHC disagreed with his confrontational approach, leading to his eventual ousting. But before he left, he published the now-famous essay 1,112 and Counting—a 5,000-word explosion of righteous fury that called out doctors, politicians, and even his own community. Tony Kushner, Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright of Angels in America, said: “With that one piece, Larry changed my world. He changed the world for all of us.”

And he didn’t stop there.

Larry began publicly outing closeted gay politicians who supported anti-LGBTQ legislation. He told gay men to stop having sex—not because he hated them, but because he loved them enough to risk their wrath. His activism was brash, confrontational, and divisive—but it saved lives.

Art as Weapon, Rage as Fuel

In 1985, Larry channeled his grief and fury into The Normal Heart, a searing autobiographical play that pulled no punches. The character Ned Weeks, a fictionalized version of Kramer, was raw and honest and broken and angry—a mirror Larry held up to the world.

It became the longest-running play ever staged at the Public Theater. HBO later adapted it into a film starring Mark Ruffalo. It remains one of the most important artistic works about the AIDS crisis ever created.

After GMHC, Larry co-founded ACT UP (AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power) in 1987—a direct-action group that took to the streets, stormed government buildings, and refused to let the world ignore the epidemic. Where the government saw statistics, Larry saw names. Faces. Stories. The healthcare system ignored the dying because they were gay. And Larry? He made sure the world heard every single scream.

Hospitals turned AIDS patients away. Families buried loved ones wrapped in trash bags. Funeral homes refused to take the bodies. Friends stole corpses from morgues to give them dignity in death.

Larry called it what it was: a Holocaust.

And while he was reviled by many—yes, even within the LGBTQ community—he never backed down. Because it wasn’t about popularity. It was about survival.

Complicated, Flawed, Unforgettable

Was Larry perfect? Absolutely not.

He was angry. He could be abrasive, homophobic, even misogynistic at times. He threw a drink in Terry Dolan’s face at a party, for heaven’s sake. But his anger wasn’t performative. It was the kind of rage born from witnessing thousands of your friends die while the world looked away.

He knew his truth would cost him—and he paid the price. Relationships ended. Organizations cast him out. But he kept going, not for himself, but for the generations to come.

Larry Kramer died in 2020. And though we lost a lion, I often wonder what he’d say now as we watch hard-won rights unravel in front of us. I know one thing for sure: he wouldn’t stay silent.

And neither will I.

Let’s Get Loud

I am no Larry Kramer. I don’t pretend to have his voice, his pen, or his unwavering clarity of purpose. But I do have his anger.

I will not stand by while our rights are stripped away—ours or anyone else’s. I will fight with every tool I have: my voice, my vote, and my writing. I will march. I will speak. And if they don’t like my tone? Let them stew in their discomfort. Because this isn’t about me.

It’s about who comes after me. And that, dear friends, is worth every ounce of fury I have.

So—What Can You Do?

You’re probably asking: “Okay, Lady LiberTea, I’m angry. Now what?”

Good. I want you to feel that anger. Sit with it. Let it spark something.

Then next week, when you go shopping, vote with your dollar. There are still companies supporting DEI initiatives—Apple, Costco, and more. Others? They’re silent, complicit, or worse. Every purchase is a vote. So vote like it matters—because it does.

We’ll dig deeper into this next week. But for now, remember: anger is an action emotion. Let it move you. Let it push you. Let it change something.

Until Our Next Bold Move,
Lady LiberTea