The 2023 ACT Volunteer of the Year is two people in one: Richard Allen and his drag queen alter ego, Rachel. (Many – politicians from the late Bob Hawke to Andrew Barr and Elizabeth Lee, his doctor, and the gay community – know him as Rach.)

He says he doesn’t need an award; while honoured and awed, he is happy to do what he does. But for more than 40 years, Volunteering ACT states, Mr Allen has “shown an exceptional commitment to fostering a more inclusive Canberra community”.

Diagnosed with HIV 33 years ago, Mr Allen has volunteered with HIV/AIDS organisations like Meridian (the AIDS Action Council of the ACT), provided peer support, and raised funds to create the AIDS Garden of Reflection at the National Arboretum. He started Canberra’s first float in Mardi Gras – and got the police marching with them, in a symbol of solidarity during the 1980s AIDS epidemic.

“This work has resulted in immeasurable impact in the Canberra community, and has created a vibrant and inclusive community, marked by passionate advocacy and awareness initiatives that actively dismantle barriers,” Volunteering ACT stated.

But Mr Allen was taken aback by the announcement, made at a ceremony last Tuesday night. The day after, he was still trying to process the moment; in spite of all the phone calls and congratulations, it hadn’t quite hit him yet, he said.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m very honoured, but the way it came – I’m sitting in the chair, my name is read out, and I’m just in shock. Now tears are starting to roll because I didn’t even have a clue that I was going to win; I had no idea. And then getting out of the chair, I almost fell over, because I was wearing high-heeled shoes, stilettoes – because I’m a drag queen, and I had to be the two persons, because everyone knows me as Richard, but everyone knows me as Rachel. So Richard and Rachel had to be there, because they are both the same person who did the same job as a carer, as a volunteer…

“You’ve got to be seen to be heard. It’s awkward to be heard, but if you’re not being seen, you’re a nobody, because they can’t put a face to the name. They can put it to Rachel, because Rachel is there. Rachel is Rachel. Rachel is HIV. Rachel is Mardi Gras. Rachel is the AIDS Garden. Rachel is Meridian. Rachel is a Volunteer of the Year Award recipient. I am an everybody person; all you’ve got to do is ask, and I’m happy to do it.”

When a friend told him he should have received the award years before, Mr Allen replied: “I wasn’t one for accolades; I just wanted to get in there and do my job. That’s what we’re all about. We’re there for them when they need us.”

HIV volunteer

Mr Allen began volunteering with Meridian in 1988, because his partner of the time (now deceased) was HIV positive.

“I needed to learn more about how to look after him as the stages progressed, because in those days, we had no drugs, we had nothing. At St Vincent’s Hospital [Sydney, which had Australia’s first dedicated AIDS ward], the nurses wouldn’t go into the wards, they left the food tray on the floor outside, they wouldn’t even go near. It was quite scary. And then I thought, ‘We’re better than this; we’re Australia.’

“As I was coming out of the room, I bumped into a Sister of Perpetual Indulgence [gay male nun]. I said to him: ‘What do we need to do? We’ve got to be here for our brothers and sisters.’ And he told me: ‘We just need to be there.’”

And there Mr Allen has been for 40 years, “talking about [HIV] positive living, doing positive cooking for positive people, picking up positive people, taking them to their doctors, taking them to the hospital, wherever they need to go, or just having coffee with them, so they have someone to talk to”.

“That’s what I’m there for – nothing else, nothing more,” Mr Allen said.

Caring for HIV positive people, and counselling grieving partners and friends. Packing condoms, and gardening. Holding expos. Raising money for the Trevor Daley Fund, which pays for positive people to see doctors, buy medicine, or cover their utility bills. Running the Positive Support Network, which holds regular get-togethers for positive people; Mr Allen cooks.

“We’ve sort of become a family, and that’s what we needed, because being a positive man, which I am, is not easy, it’s very scary.”

He reflects: “A lot of people go by ‘survivor’; I hate that word. Because I’m not a survivor. I’m a man living with HIV – or, no, the virus is living with me…

“So I’ve got control over it… Because if you allow the virus to get hold of you, you’re not going to be here for long, because it will destroy you, without fail.”

Mr Allen has lost more than 50 friends to the disease, including his partner, who died in 1994, aged only 34.

“The worst thing about AIDS is that you’re so young, and yet there’s nothing left of his legacy to remember. I thought: We can’t just let them go. We need to remember them. They are our forefathers; they are the ones who fought this battle with us; they are the guinea pigs of today, trying out the new drugs… Once they’re buried, we’ve got nothing to show for them.

“And I thought: well, what about building a garden? … We need somewhere we can sit and contemplate, think of the good times, have a party or a picnic overlooking the view of Canberra.”

Mr Allen came up with the concept on World AIDS Day 1996, two years after his partner’s death. For years, with the backing of the AIDS Council, he raised the funds to build that garden; and in April 2018, the National Arboretum opened the AIDS Garden of Reflection, costing $190,000. Earlier this month (Friday 1 December), a World AIDS Day ceremony was held there.

It is, Mr Allen says, his legacy.

Mardi Gras

But glam and glitter have also been part of Mr Allen’s life. He began marching in the Mardi Gras in 1980, and organised the first CampBerra float at the Sydney Mardi Gras, in 1987.

Called ‘United as One’, it quite literally brought together all the organisations under the gay umbrella (the AIDS Action Council, Pink Tennis, the Canberra Bushdance, and the bears and trans communities). Quite literally “under the umbrella”: the float walked with rainbow umbrellas.

He also organised Meridian’s first Mardi Gras float – VAACUM: Volunteers of the AIDS Action Council United for Mardis Gras. It got a standing ovation, and won the award for the best interstate float.

In 1988, the Australian Federal Police took part in Mardi Gras for the first time, too. Mr Allen invited the AFP to march so the police and the gay community could come together as one.

“Because at that time, the AIDS virus was around, and a lot of gay guys were getting bashed, bullied, or abused,” Mr Allen said, the police set up GLLOs (Gay and Lesbian Liaison Officers).

“They were all gay males and female lesbians – they dealt with the gay population because a gay talking to a straight man or vice versa is not easy; it is really confronting. By talking to another gay male or a female, it was much easier, they can understand.”

The top brass at the AFP loved the idea of taking part in Mardi Gras.

“All the police officers from the ACT were amazing in their uniform,” Mr Allen said. “They were absolutely eye-opening. I was so proud, so honoured to have them with us. We walked in Mardi Gras, and wherever we walked, we got a row of applause, so much I said we’d got to do it again.”

And the police continued to march for the next decade, until the GLLO went on its own.

Raging Rachel

“Everyone still today,” Mr Allen says, “they don’t call me by their real name; although my name is Richard, they call me Rach, Rachel.”

Raging Rachel came to life in the old Dickson Hotel days, Mr Allen recalls. “I saw a drag show, and I thought, ‘I can do that; chuck on a frock, a wig, a little lipstick’ – and I looked like a clown. I have two feet; I couldn’t dance…” And his first performance brought the house down. Soon after, Rachel appeared in a show, Sinderella Superstar.

“Rachel was looking for love (God help us!); she had no idea how to do what she was gonna do,” Mr Allen said. “She went from Freddie Mercury to Dolly Parton to Loretta Lynn. ‘One’s on the Way’ was the number, and I just brought the house to a halt. People were throwing money at us on the stage. Was that to say get off or were they good donations? After the show, they came back. ‘Rach, you were magnificent. Tragic, but magnificent. We need more of you.’”

And there was more – she was booked at venues throughout Canberra, from HMAS Harman (the naval base) to nightclubs to the ANU.

It wasn’t sophisticated, Mr Allen said, but it made people laugh – and escape from their problems.

“We should be able to sit down, have a drink, have a laugh, a joke, and be free, be you, and don’t worry about the world, just live your life the way you want to live it.”

Rachel, he said, is a clown, in her own way: “She likes things to be happy-go-lucky; she doesn’t like to be down and out… I always want to be upbeat, and I think I’ve got that name as very caring for the community; the heart’s in the right place; not afraid to give; not afraid to do what necessarily needed to be done…

“But there’s also another side of Rachel. She hurts very easily. In a way, the world can be very nasty, very cruel. Yeah, it does affect me, but I overcome that; I get stronger, and the stronger I get, it’s the people who make it hard for you are the ones who are going to suffer at the end. Because you’re not going to hurt me – I’m already here, I’m already strong enough, and I’m stronger than you.”