"So, am I HIV-positive?"
"Oh, you're definitely HIV-positive", said the nurse, turning away.
So began a new chapter, not with a bang, or even a whimper, just a chilling new reality casually announced. The date was August 5th, 2009. I had a new mission: to be one of the thirty three million people living with HIV, and not one of its twenty five million dead bodies. A tall order, one might think. So how is that whole thing going, and why am I writing about it here? What's next?
And no, sorry, that guy is not me; I fondly wish. Contrary to rumor, I do not in fact have abs like that. Rather, that's Jack Mackenroth, a model, athlete, fashion designer - some clichés are indeed based in reality - and a man living with HIV.
What makes Jack remarkable - and this is why I bring him up, not just to gratuitously showcase chiseled flesh - is that he is part of a new generation of men and women, gay and straight, black and white, who are taking this particular bull by the horns. It's a cliché, one over-used to the point of meaninglessness, but we are now living with one simple thought: we can beat AIDS. Some are talking of "The End of AIDS". These some include President Obama and Secretary Clinton.
There are good reasons to believe that. Some of them have to do with the breathtaking advances in medical science we've seen in the recent past, some with changes in the society at large, and some with a new consciousness among those of us directly affected.
Recall how this epidemic started three decades ago: a silent, swift and seemingly unstoppable killer. In a cruel twist of fate, it first ran amok in a gay community that had just begun to step out of the shadow of centuries of repression. Dozens died, then hundreds, then thousands and tens of thousands, snuffed out like so many candles, and as quickly. The survivors, meanwhile, were indelibly scarred, even as the epidemic began to ravage other communities, striking with an almost human malevolence those furthest from the corridors of power: the poor, IV drug users, impoverished communities of color. To this day, AIDS is a particular scourge of the African-American community and the leading cause of death for black women in the 25-34 cohort. Ponder that for a moment.
Today, at this writing, we have an infinitely greater understanding of all aspects of the epidemic, its causes, its course and its treatment. We understand that AIDS is not just an affliction of the body, but equally one of the soul; as Susan Sontag said, AIDS is a metaphor, not just a disease. For example, the suicide rate for HIV patients is triple that of the population at large.
In terms of prevention and treatment, this year has seen several paradigm-shifting breakthroughs, some hiding in plain sight. For example, a study showed that the risk of HIV transmission to an HIV- partner of a HIV+ person is cut by 96% if the latter is on one of the standard drugs regimens. By comparison, that's a tiny bit more effective than using a condom. This is most remarkable once you realize that the standard prevention techniques requiring 100% adherence to 'safer' sex are of questionable efficacy. A study released in March detailing something called Zinc finger gene therapy - no, really - indicates that the white blood cells the HIV virus needs to replicate itself can be stripped of a crucial gateway protein, making infection impossible. This could be the cure, or certainly a big step towards one. Meanwhile, there's also progress on the elusive AIDS vaccine researchers have been looking for for decades.
But the most important thing I see happening is this: as I said, AIDS is not just an affliction of the body, but of the soul. I don't know of any statistics that measure the impact on HIV+ men and women, or children, of the ignorance about our condition that marks the population at large, and in many cases, ourselves. I can't tell you how many conversations I've had with beautiful, talented people, on the simple subject that their life is not over because of a damned diagnosis, and that they remain human beings worthy of a good life and, especially, of love. That The Scarlet Letter is just an old book, not their life or mine. That this virus and its stigma only have as much power as you choose to give them.
So what I'm doing, the aforementioned stunningly beautiful Jack presumably as well, certainly my friend Daniel, and so many others, is this: we're telling the truth. If there's a Scarlet Letter, we'll wear it. Quite literally, actually; I have a t-shirt that reads in very large letters 'HIV POSITIVE', and I wear it. You know what shocked me about doing so? That nobody gave a damn, even in the most flamboyant heart of New York City's gay ghetto. And every time I do that, or anyone else, or does anything that shows that yes, life does go the fuck on, that there is a future waiting to be made, maybe some poor, scared kid will see it, and have some hope, where before there was only fear.
"After September 11, 2001, we are reminded that if terror can blight beauty, then the converse must also be true: out of terrible tragedy can often come greatness, and in the face of devastation and loss, one can discover deep reservoirs of boldness and strength."
- Ana Oliveira, Executive Director, Gay Men's Health Crisis
This is my fabulous disease.
7:53 PM PT:
Oh, and, duh, I'm going to be moderating a panel on HIV and AIDS at Netroots New York