I remember when I first heard about AIDS... I was in kindergarten and they showed us a short film of a young, black, extremely attractive male (it was kind of understood from the film that he was not hetero) in New York City who died of AIDS -- I was living in Washington State at the time so it was extremely powerful for this first imagery of a black gay man in NYC to be this film. Well, the video scared the kiddy daylights out of me! By the time we hit 20 minutes he passed out and had legions all over his body. I remember an intense fear because I knew in kindergarten that I was not hetero -- and the film left me with an eerie feeling that is what happens to all men who do not have sex with women.

That paralyzing feeling was probably why I didn't get an HIV test until I was 20 years-old and even when I got tested it wasn't exactly by choice. I was in Philadelphia, had already “come out”, surrounded by safe sex workshops and friends who were extremely pro safe sex -- this was before "bare backing" became all the rage. With all of that "support" I was still tremendously afraid of getting tested. Those days you had to wait a full week and maybe a couple days for your results to come back, and my delicate 20 year-old spirit could not endure the drama!

One day I went to a doctor because I had broke-out on my face, just some really intense acne that I had gotten on and off. I didn’t have a regular doctor and I had just got health insurance so being excited to have a job with “benefits” I pulled out the phonebook and looked for the closest doctor in my area. Yeah, I know dumb decision, but I was 20, living on my own and LAWD I just got benefits! The moment I saw that fossil for a doctor I was uncomfortable. He was comfortable with me until he looked at my chart where I marked who my sexual partners were – male. After a glance at the chart his next glance at me let me know he conjured a pot of assumptions seeing a black gay man in front of him. I considered lying on that question, but I thought (before I saw him) there would be a possibility of having a regular doctor and I wanted everything out in the open.

I entered his what looked like circa-1960 office and casually explained I’m breaking out again. Barely responding he blinded me with a massive surgery lamp, inspecting my face. As he squinted through his huge glasses he let out, "Well! Those are the kind of bumps people who have AIDS get -- we better draw blood!" I nearly fell out of the archaic chair. He said it like I already had it. I was devastated... my mouth dried up, I lost feeling in my fingertips, I felt dizzy. Did he just diagnose me with AIDS? Although he didn’t exactly say that -- it felt like it. I had been taught a lot about HIV so hearing a doctor say "AIDS" I should've known he didn’t know what he was talking about, but in that moment I was too shocked to think normally. He tells me to go down the hall so they can "draw blood" -- not even using the word "testing." As I exit the office there are other people in the waiting area and the doctor proceeds to yell down the long hallway to the nurse, "HIV TESTING!" At least he got a bit more professional by saying HIV and testing, but I couldn’t believe he would YELL with everyone in the entire office looking at me with shock. I was extremely emotional nearly ready to break down when I reached the nurse. All I could think of was the video from kindergarten… was I the guy in the film?

The nurse, who was another elderly white person, hastily sat me down and asked what is wrong with me -- no compassion, or sincerity. She pulls my arm out as I tell her, I'm scared. She unsympathetically asks, "You're not going to pass out are you?" I ignore her as she prepares to draw blood she snaps, "Well, if you didn't DO anything you don't have anything to worry about!" Then she RAMS the needle in my arm!

Later that day I called all of my friends as they schooled me on how ridiculous the doctor was and I needed to see another doctor immediately -- this time a dermatologist. Within the hellish week I saw a dermatologist (got my acne cleared up) and went to Planned Parenthood for another test because I didn't trust that doctor -- yeah, I know a bit neurotic. I got my results back from the awful first doctor via phone, which at the time everyone kept telling me was illegal. He flatly said, "You're fine." I breathed for what felt like the first time in a week and they proceeded to wear him out, "I have to tell you that you are the most unprofessional, uncompassionate and rudest doctor I have ever had. How dare you tell me I had AIDS because I broke out on my face! Do you know how incompetent and uneducated that is to say to someone? The way you handled me in the office to your nasty nurse -- you are terrible and I will tell every person I meet to NEVER go to you! I hope you are never on the other side of the table!" I hung up on him as he was yelling, “Wait a minute! Wait a minute!”

Later that week I went to get my results from Planned Parenthood – even though I already tested negative days before I was still worried. What if the test results were wrong? What if the virus laid dormant in the first test? What if they got the tubes of blood mixed-up and didn’t test mine? OH LAWD! I was negative. I was so scared and I never even had unsafe sex.

HIV/AIDS is not only a physical disease, but an emotional disease. Many of us are HIV positive emotionally. We live in fear of the conspiracies, injustices and lack of information. We operate so carefully that sometimes we are not truly living. Others operate so carelessly because they feel their life is not worthy of living. These are one of the many of things I reflect on EVERY DAY -- not just December 1st. For most gay men, HIV is a part of our life on a daily basis (just like racism is part of the daily lives of most black Americans) – regardless if we are positive or negative.

Labels: HIV/AIDS