Marin Magazine - June 2017

think of a junkie. They think, “That’s the other. That’s not me.” But many addicts, and people in recovery, look just like you and me. One of the reasons we model ourselves after the gay rights movement — in particular, movements like Act Up and Silence Equals Death — is that they were able to transform a culture by individuals coming for ward and self-identifying as part of a group. That’s where the real power is.

What are you doing specifically to create a change? We design our programs so that our individual clients have the opportunity to reassess their relationship with substances and make decisions that support living healthier lives. On a broader scale, though, one of the initiatives we’re taking is an ad campaign for the general public called “This Is What Recovery Looks Like.” Last year, we ran a full-page ad in the San Francisco Business Times with a photo of a beautiful, intact family with that tagline. You don’t know who in the picture has dealt with addiction. But it doesn’t really matter because the whole family has been affected. What we’re trying to do is bring [forth] strong, healthy images of what recovery looks like. For the new campaign, we’ve shot photos of 12 local Bay Area residents, including a fireman, a bodybuilder, an ordained minister and a white-collar marketing professional. The ads are running on social media and buses and shelter stops in San Francisco. My wish is to have our ad campaign on the banners along Lombard Street. That one is a fantasy unless I get the funding.

How do you see this transformation unfolding? We’ve got to start with the people who have been touched by this disease themselves. If we are afraid of the backlash, we’ll never get anywhere. I think there are some of us who are no longer afraid. We’ve already experienced hell in our addiction. Our belief is that as the movement grows, as more people come for ward and experience strength and affirmation, we can provide hope for other people. We can be role models. This is a treatable condition. Maybe not curable, but treatable. I know. I’ve had to learn tools and strategies in recovery, but in the last decade, I’ve had a life better than I ever could have imagined. m