In the early stages of my study of the political movements surrounding the advent of AIDS and HIV, my first concern was not maintaining, or even achieving, objectivity. Rather, I found myself exploring many of the same questions as other scholars who focused on the human side of the emerging pandemic. Many of us puzzled over why AIDS had been such a strong mobilizing force. An intriguing political science question was why certain subgroups of AIDS activists enjoyed such success once the larger affected communities mobilized. Many of the people at the forefront of AIDS activism seemed to have been remarkably successful both in having their policy demands met and in incorporating themselves into the decision-making bodies that would formulate future policies. These successes seemed all the more amazing when one considered that a majority of Americans associated the epidemic with groups of people they perceived as, at best, marginally parts of American society—the diseased (hemophiliacs), the unwelcome (Haitian immigrants), and, most especially, the morally suspect (gay men and injection drug users).
This paradox of unprecedented success for disempowered actors has spawned a vast literature spanning a variety of disciplines. Early books on the subject, beginning with Randy Shilts's unequaled classic, And the Band Played On, focused on the manifold obstacles facing early activists and government officials attempting to deal with the impending crisis.
