Embracing Legacy: The Enduring Impact of Cleve Jones on Love and Leadership in the LGBTQ+ Movement
- Christopher McCormick
- Nov 12
- 5 min read
I’m walking into the Swedish American Hall to attend “The Legend Awards” sponsored by The Academy San Francisco to honor this year's recipient. As I stood in line, anticipation buzzing in the air, a familiar figure emerged from the crowd—Cleve Jones. A man I’ve known through stories, folklore, and the impact he’s had on countless lives throughout his decades of service. Here he is. Right in front of me. A man I’ve personally met and known in the community for 10+ years. He nudges me over to get a picture. Of course, there is Gooch, the local photographer you hire when you need to capture such events as a Legend on the street about to be awarded for a lifetime of service to the LGBTQ+ | Queer Community. Although, one could argue, his impact has been far beyond one community. He has had a profound and lasting impact on the world stage.
I wish I didn’t have to know this man. I wish that being queer in the world didn’t require such a leader, advocate and champion. I wish the AIDS Crisis never happened and that the AIDS Memorial Quilt, one of the most amazing pieces of folk art ever existing in the world, never needed creation. I remember the weight of each loss; the silence that followed each name announced, and the determination to honor those who fought and fell. I think of my first theatre director, the teacher whose passion ignited my own, and the first boy I ever kissed—each loss a reminder of the lives cut short.
I wish… I wish for a lot of things. And yet, that isn’t quite how life works.
My late mother always said,
“Life is going to life you. Who you be in the face of circumstances is completely up to you.”
And that is why Cleve is such a legend. In the face of circumstances, here is a man who has fought, pushed, shoved, knocked down, lit on fire, loved, hugged and held a community together in all of the circumstances life handed him, our community, our past, our present, and most likely our future. When he worked on Harvey Milk’s campaign to become the supervisor for the Castro district on San Francisco's Board of Supervisor's in the 1970’s, he most likely heard him say, “You gotta give them hope” more times than he’d care to admit.
How do you give anyone hope when you watch your friend and your mayor get slaughtered for standing up for equality in a city full of diversity? How do you give people hope when you watch your entire peer and friend group start dying from “gay cancer” that killed an entire generation of men and women in the 80’s and 90’s? How do you give people hope when you see racism and dictatorship start to erode the very fabric of the country you have fought so hard for, to be a part of, to gain real economic, political, and influence to cause lasting change? What’s happens as you see that change and work get eroded? Where is hope now?
Hope is right here. He’s looking at me in the mirror. He’s staring me in the face on this sidewalk. He’s posing for pictures with the people who came to honor him. He’s posing with the Legend because he was asked to do so. It’s Cleve! It’s me! It’s all of us. The man whose life has been about service. In his book, When We Rise, he states,
“The movement is about love. It’s about love for each other, love for our community, and love for the world.”
We are the hope. We are the love. There is no help coming. It’s our chance…our chance to love each and every day. It’s start with self, then we have a shot at having it impact so many others. Cleve’s life is a roadmap for the kind of difference love can have on a generation, a community, a world.
I’ve been thinking a lot about change, legacy, and evolving into what wants to be next lately. I think about showing up as yourself, being authentic, embracing your narrative and owning it. I also think about how easy it is to put people in a box based on when and where you met or encountered them.
Why is that? Are you the same person you were a decade ago? Pre-pandemic? Even look back over the past two years…are you the same person navigating life during this time as you were two years ago?
Cleve was an icon way before I met him. And then, he came a man I met. Then a person I knew. He became less of an idea and more a living, breathing human struggling with the same ICE raids disappearing people in front of us. The same human who wakes up scared to look at your phone knowing the news could be bleak AF. He continues evolving that is requisite for the time and circumstances served up.
As I reflect on legacy, I’m reminded of how we often outgrow the spaces that once defined us, much like the rooms we inhabit in our lives.
Sometimes, as Dr. Tunde Okewale states in his piece titled ‘Outgrowing a Room You Once Belonged To’, he reflects:
“What once fit now constricts. What felt like belonging reminds you how far you’ve travelled. What was routine now feels like a relic. It's not rejection. It’s evolution. It's the ache of knowing roots can deepen without binding you to the same soil. That belonging can evolve from a place to a state of being.
Trust that the same strength that brought you here can carry you forward. Trust that an ending can also be an invitation. Trust that when you walk away, you walk towards. Trust that belonging is an agreement you make within. Trust that if you stay too long, belonging can become betrayal. The spaces that shaped you will always matter. The spaces you create next will define who you’re meant to become.”
What kind of legacy are you nurturing—one rooted in fear or one blossoming in love? Will you be a force for division or a beacon of unity?
As we celebrate Cleve’s legacy, let us commit to our own. How will we show up for our communities? How will we embody love in our leadership? Together, we can cultivate a future where the values Cleve fought for thrive.
Congratulations, Cleve! Your legendary legacy is a testament to the power of love, and it will continue to inspire generations to rise and lead with courage. You’ve extended your love in so many dark times, and witnessing that love return to you—a warm embrace from a global community—is a reminder of the hope you’ve given us all.
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