Monday, September 25, 2006
music: "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood" by Nina Simone
I already knew he was, I hadn't seen him in years ... when he walked out of the car to greet me his body was half the person he used to be. It disturbed me ... we got back in the car and I tried to act like everything was okay, I tried to act like things were like they used to be, but I couldn't. When he turned the steering wheel I noticed the sharp bones in his elbows looking like they might cut through his skin. His collar bone seemed to be ripping out of his neck; his shirt was on more of a skeleton than muscle. I wasn't in shock that he had HIV, but more shocked that he looked like this ... as the cliché goes, "HIV is no longer a death sentence." We went back to his hotel room as I continued to make small talk like there wasn't a thing on my mind. He always hated when I brought things up when he wasn’t ready to talk.
He continued to make BIG talk, cracking jokes and laughing harder than usual. Finally we sat down as he began to roll a blunt and said, "Well, you know I got HIV." I looked at him nearly angry ... it was as if he said, "Well, you know Keisha around the corner is pregnant." Not that I wanted him to fall to the floor and scream, but he didn't sound like it was serious or even important.
Then he said, "Now don't go crying now -- I got some Xanax if your ass needs to calm down!" At that moment I knew we really didn't know each other anymore because I wouldn't, and haven't, cried when someone told me they had HIV. I’ve been in New York City for eights years and once again, HIV isn't a death sentence. I asked him how he was feeling and he answers, "Oh, I'm great! I feel good - I'm only on two medications. So, yeah I'm good." He says he found out a year ago as he proceeds to finish rolling his blunt. I asked him why he lost so much weight. "Oh well, you know I lost weight way before I was positive then when I got HIV it was hard to gain the weight back... plus, I do cocaine." He sprinkles in he's also working in porn to "make a little change."
I'm trying not to judge. I know how stubborn he is and when he feels like someone is judging him he might never speak to you again. So, he continues to tell more bad, uncomfortable jokes saying, "Yeah, the stat is true if four people are in one room, one of them is sick -- THAT'S ME!" BIG laughs. He says, "Yeah, you know I left you something in my will - but don't get too excited, it wasn't no money!" BIG laughs. "Yeah, I'll be working on this porno - but I won't be co-starring in it THIS TIME!" BIG laughs. All of these laughs were by himself. It reminded me of when the "fat girl" in the room constantly mocks herself because she doesn't like who she is.
I was getting angry. I wanted to storm out. I couldn't believe he was fooling himself that everything was okay. He was a former HIV educator! I couldn't believe he would think I would fall for this bullshit. This is one of my best friends ... this is my ROOTS. I came OUT with him, he taught me what it meant to be bold and unapologetic, he taught me how to not let someone see when they slice you deep, he taught me how to survive with my tongue, which is rule number one. I wanted to leave ... I wasn’t going to sit and listen to him lie to himself.
But, I was afraid if I walked out I might never see him again. I didn't want our last conversation in-person to be me storming out. I questioned him harder if he thought he had a problem with drugs ... of course he didn't because he is still “functioning." Finally I told him to stop the bullshit and tell me what was really going on with his life. I said, "You can't tell me everything you just told me and say you’re okay! Don't sit here and lie to me and expect me to believe it -- you taught me better than that."
There was a moment where he took the mask off, put the guard down and admitted he had a problem ... a real problem. Admitted he didn't love himself. Admitted a part of the reason why he was positive was the drugs. “Maybe if I would’ve loved myself I wouldn’t be HIV positive." That was all I needed and all I was going to get. I wasn't going to walk away from him and not have a real conversation or even a piece of a real conversation -- so I thanked him for opening up to me just a little bit. It may not have been the real thing ... but it was good enough.
When I hugged him goodbye I grabbed onto him like he was my son. I kissed him on the cheek wondering if this would be the last time I would see him. I knew he could change things RIGHT NOW if he wanted to. He could turn it all around. However, he was half a person. It wasn't that he had HIV it was that he was abusing himself. Cocaine, alcohol, weed and HIV meds don't mix. Before I walked out I gave him a second hug ... I wondered if he thought I was being dramatic.
Funny thing is - my generation had a different experience with HIV. We had all of the education, facts and history. When I came out one of the first things I learned was how to put on a condom. I remember 10 years ago when a HIV educator said, "There is no reason for ANY of you to be HIV positive through unsafe sex because now you all know how to protect yourselves – my generation didn't know." I believed him and everybody in that room seemed to believe him. I thought we all knew not to have unsafe sex. I thought the teachers in our community had let us know our lives are VALUABLE enough to protect.
When I left the hotel I listened to "One Headlight" by The Wallflowers and didn't shed any tears. I rode the train and listened to "Home" by Stephanie Mills and my eyes didn't well up. However, when I finally got back home with no music, no scenery, nothing to cloud my thoughts -- I sat on my bed, thought of the whole day and cried till it hurt.Labels: HIV/AIDS, Sexuality
Posted by Clay ::
11:33 AM ::
30 comments
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