ABOUT SCOTT

Scott Fried is an internationally recognized award-winning educator, public speaker and writer. Having lived with HIV for nearly 40 years, Scott is a survivor of that 20th-century pandemic, and his support group served as the inspiration for the Broadway musical "RENT."

He has authored four books and currently holds the position of visiting professor at Colby College, where he teaches a popular course called, “AIDS and the Meaning of Life.” 

Scott has received the “Collaborative Program of the Year” Award from the University of Pittsburgh, the “Outstanding Education Event” Award at Florida Tech, the “Governor General’s Meritorious Service Medal” from Ottawa, and the “Honorary Star of the Rainbow Award” from the GLCC of Fort Lauderdale, which he shared with Chaz Bono. 

He has appeared in a variety of periodicals and newspapers and his contributions are included in the following books: The Five Gifts of Illness: A Reconsideration, Living Proof: Courage in the Face of AIDS, The Faces of AIDS: Lives at the Epicenter, and The World is a Narrow Bridge: Stories that Celebrate Hope and Healing.

Scott offers wellness coaching for teens, parents, and couples. Additionally, he leads online support groups specifically designed for parents of trans and questioning children. He is also an instructor at Hand 2 Mouth Learning, where he works with non-verbal autistic adults.

Additionally, he leads civil rights tours throughout the American south, with etgar.org, focusing on the history and legacy of MLK, Jr. 

Scott resides in New York City with his energetic dachshund-beagle, Galileo.

SOME BACKGROUND

Richie was my 73rd friend to die of AIDS. At his funeral, as a friend read from the opening page of his diary, the room fell silent. We eavesdropped upon his discontinued private world - promises and plans for the coming winter, words of beginnings and renewal with an easy eloquence. He wrote of hope.  I began to consider my own journals and even more importantly, my own existence. 

Diagnosed with HIV a few years earlier, at 24, after my first unsafe sexual encounter, I lived behind too many unopened doors. In those early years of the AIDS epidemic, funerals had become too frequent, and the thought that the next gathering might be for me was a heavy burden.  I wondered if my own story, captured in numerous journals, would be shared. How could I ensure that I would not become another statistic of the AIDS epidemic and candle burning through the night in my mother’s kitchen on the anniversary of my death?

Was there a way to memorialize myself while still alive?

I began to talk to teenagers with the hope that, in their collective memory, I would not be forgotten. I volunteered at first in schools, synagogues and summer camps, cultivating a sort of ministry. Sharing aspects of the mistakes I made as a young adult I inspired them with the lessons I had learned. I memorized their names, answered their questions and collected their prayers. Having amassed an abundance of experiences, I began to write them down. Soon, what originated as my rejoinder to Richie’s journal had developed into my first book, If I Grow Up: Talking With Teens About AIDS, Love and Staying Alive. 

The book and subsequent lectures opened up a floodgate of correspondence. Living as they do in the digital age, teens from around the world began reaching out. Initially, their emails were filled with gratitude for feeling seen and understood. However, as my travels continued, the tenor of these exchanges deepened. The messages in the subject lines changed from “Thanks for coming to my school” to “Here are my problems…and there are many” and “Searching for answers…” Others proclaimed simply “Please listen!” or “Battling me.” Their questions delved into the core of their existence: 

  • Are there any truths you still want to find before you die?

  • Will there be someone to help me along the way or will I grow up alone?

  • How can I find a person who sees me differently than everyone else?

  • Can you tell me how to feel comfortable in my own skin?

  • If we all feel the same way inside, why is it so difficult for people to talk to each other about their true feelings?

  • How do you tell the difference between being in love and being deathly afraid of being alone?

  • Is God what people make Him out to be?

  • How do you open your heart to someone without getting hurt?

  • Can I live up to my expectations?

When I received my HIV diagnosis in 1987, I was told I had no more than five years to live. It brings me immense joy that nearly four decades later, I am still here and able to contribute. Recently, one of my fourteen-year-old students shared a piece of wisdom that resonated deeply: “What makes a real hero? Not someone who can save me, but someone who can make ME into a hero. Nothing against Spider-Man or the others, but really, what makes them any different than the rest of us? We all have greatness bubbling right underneath the surface just waiting to be set free into the world, bursting for all to see.”

Finally, I often recall a piece of advice from my mother. Whenever my siblings and I would argue, she would always say, “Make nice.” She encouraged us to actively bring “nice” into the world. I believe the world needs more kind people, and I hope my journey ahead provides continued opportunities to honor her words.

One teen even wrote, “I feel as if I have so many questions, yet I don’t know what those questions are.” Their inquiries were moving beyond the initial curiosity about my HIV status to measuring the depths of their own life circumstances and the larger questions that shape our human experience. While each email was a window into an individual life, a collective truth emerged: the fundamental need to share their stories. “After listening to you speak so candidly about your life and experiences,” wrote one teen, “I couldn’t help but return the favor and write to you, not only as a human being, but as a person with a spirit who has struggled and is still attempting to make sense of this struggle in all of its diversity.”

These powerful exchanges inspired my second book, My Invisible Kingdom: Letters From the Secret Lives of Teens. I envisioned it as an entryway into their world, a collection of correspondence born from my first book. If that can be seen as the story of my life, then this body of work is the life of my story, a small representation of the thousands of letters and emails I’ve received. These letters transport us back to the once upon a time of unblemished expectation, serving as a vanguard of raw truth, guiding us to a rediscovery of self. Originally personal confessions and private pleas, they speak to something universal within us all.

As my lectures took me around the world, I began working with parents and teachers, which led to my next book, A Private Midnight: A Teenager’s Scrapbook of Secrets. This book addresses the ten questions I wish I’d been asked as a teenager, offering guidance to parents and educators striving to understand what lies beneath a teenager’s silence. Through anonymous teen responses and descriptive drawings, poetry, and reflections, it serves as a journal of dreams.

Expanding my focus further, I developed parenting workshops, eventually codifying my insights into my fourth book, How to Raise an Elegant Teen: The ABCs of Gen Z Parenting. This project grew out of two distinct lectures - one for parents/grandparents, the other for teachers at pedagogical conferences. After each presentation, which invariably ran over time, the attendees would gather at the merch table asking the same question: “Which of these books has everything you just taught?” After years of not having a definitive answer, I realized it was time to write that book.

Along the way, I added “Visiting Professor” to my resume, as Colby College offered me an opportunity to expand my 90-minute talks into a comprehensive, albeit short, semester-long course. It’s an intensive multidisciplinary examination of HIV/AIDS. Together, my students and I explore the epidemic through various lenses, including its historical, scientific, sexual, medical, political,  pediatric, and theatrical representations, even touching upon some factually incorrect portrayals. By considering perspectives from epidemiology, psychology, biology, sociology, and the influence of culturally constructed stigmas, we explore the realities and misconceptions that have shaped perceptions of this disease and those affected by it.

A unique aspect of the course is the final assignment, where students write a letter to a young child who died from AIDS in the early 90’s, at the epidemic’s peak. In this letter, they are challenged to explain the meaning of life to this child, which encourages each student to contemplate the marvels and difficulties of human existence, reflect on their own lives, and offer insights to their future selves.

Here’s an example: 

Starting in 2007, I began organizing volunteer trips to Central America, particularly on Roatan Island. Roatan is a Caribbean island situated 40 miles off the northern coast of Honduras, where tragically, one in seven people lives with HIV/AIDS. Over time, this effort expanded through a partnership with Penn State Hillel, which brought college students during their alternative spring breaks. Collectively, our volunteers have contributed to significant improvements in La Colonia by building houses, roads, sewers, and walking bridges. We’ve also constructed hundreds of cement steps leading into a mountain, provided health education in local schools and churches, anddistributed thousands of condoms, all aimed at supporting the community.

You can learn more about this volunteer work by watching the short documentary here.