I have been HIV positive for ten years. I’ve spent many moments in those years asking myself questions like “Who am I now?” and “What does this mean?” - perhaps even becoming lost in the search many times more than I care to mention. Today I’m not really sure how to relate this feeling because I understand that we exist in so many different ways. That’s why I’m choosing to direct this entry to other people who are positive, to converse with a newer generation of those of us infected by this virus. I’ll say “newer” in an attempt not to assume that all new cases are indicated by youth.
Today is also the 50th anniversary of Rosa Parks historic stand against, well, the very foundation of America - racism. I’m sure there were many people who felt the way she did (like Claudette Colvin), but fate brought Rosa to the center of this Movement. A decade is a long time; five could be an entire lifetime. That moment defined who we would know Rosa Parks to be. No, she didn’t design the circumstance, but she certainly designed her response.
Though, in her inner world, she was more than just someone whose tired feet prompted her to enjoy a seat on a bus. There are questions that we ask ourselves everyday and ways in which we take inventory, analyze, take our pulse to maintain that we are okay. For the most part, these moments are private and are probably not as dramatic as being dragged off of a bus by racist cops (am I being redundant?), but why can’t they be as definitive?
It is easy to romanticize testing positive into some sort of mystically clarifying meditative moment of epiphany to make it palatable enough for general consumption, but my reality was that I was still in the middle of other moments. I was in a new relationship. I was out on my job and to my family. I was still trying to establish an identity. I was just beginning to understand how I could affect the world. HIV changed my life, sure, but it wasn’t the first time I had to relate to death. How could it have been as a Black gay man in this society? After the initial shock and subsequent depression, I think I was more concerned with the quality of the rest of my life. Could I still love/be loved? Could I still create? Could I still do anything with this life that means something?
Comparing the average Black person in the midst of the Civil Rights Movement and the average seropositive person in the HIV Prevention Movement, the stark contrast I see is this: in the latter, the work is not about me - not even us. The work is about protecting someone else and about maintaining a better quality of life for someone else; perhaps similar to whites’ role in the Civil Rights Movement. And it shows - it shows in every billboard I see about new HIV drugs that feature Black men front and center. It shows up in our seasonal emergency response to whatever arbitrary data CDC collects about Black men. It shows up in cases where failure to disclose your status becomes a criminal act - as if you are the sole party responsible for someone else’s actions. It shows up in community-based organizations (particularly those based in Black communities) that can not get the resources they need and who must cannibalize one another. It shows in personal ads and on sex sites where we advertise hatred while simultaneously insinuating the need for the “honesty” of our seropositive members. It shows in the fact that Link and Think no longer even exists. Worst of all, it shows up in the fact that we don’t talk about any of this unless there’s someone positive in the room - it’s an emergency when it’s convenient. All the messages say one thing: our lives aren’t worth saving.
It hurts, but why put any effort into convincing someone else that it’s okay for us to exist - however we exist? Why either comply with or juxtapose our lives against systems that do not affirm us and that can’t recognize our humanity? It is still completely irrefutable that we exist. Period. Just like anyone else. Not just as automatons to be programmed by the latest trend in HIV prevention messages, but as people who continue to have hopes, aspirations … goals. Fantasies. Hot sex. Problems. Families. Dreams. Struggles. Lives. And the ability to define all of these things for ourselves, for whatever works in our individual lives. We are still here. We exist. We count. And not just today …
Other thoughts today from:
- j.brotherlove
- Christopher David
- Malik M.L. Williams
- Ronn Taylor
- Rashid Darden
- Bernie Tarver
- Efren Bose
- Steven G. Fullwood
- Terrance Heath
- EJ Flavors
- ProfessorGQ
- Steve Claiborne
Events:
- WeAllHaveAIDS.com
- Revival: World AIDS Day Service @ Unity Fellowship Church
- United Nations 2005 World AIDS Day Commemoration @ St. John the Divine
- YouthAIDS eBay auction
“The work is about protecting someone else and about maintaining a better quality of life for someone else…”
Let’s do the work!
Thank you for posting today, Donald. Your voice is so important right now. Love ya bunches!
double the hugs. double the love.
Donald, I’ve been meaning to respond for three days now to thank you for your incredibly powerful post, which touched me very deeply. Thank you, and know that I and others really value your words, your photos and art, and you!