BloggingYour HIV

I would have to say one of the greatest tools to help me live with HIV has been the ability to write and share my experience of how it is to live with this disease. I never considered myself a blogger but as someone who made public his insight. I think I wanted to feel less isolated with this disease, but by blogging I found a way to express my feelings and create a community of people who could either identify what I was going through or find knowledge of how it was to live with HIV. When it comes to HIV I am now a believer that finding a way to talk about your status whether it’s blogging, singing, dancing or speaking; it will greatly aid the life you live. The term is called emotional expression and it simply means releasing pent up emotions. Expressing ourselves has many healthy benefits and leads you to a greater place of wellness and acceptance of you r HIV status.

Blogging is a great way to communicate and it can combat the feelings of isolation that often leads to depression. writing an online journal is defiantly different than blogging as one is private and the other allows others to see your posting and in some cases comment on them. There are several free sites on the net that gives you to ability to blog. A good online search will reveal the choices but as far as ease I would say the two best for beginners are Blogger.com and WordPress. Whatever route one chooses they defiantly are beneficially.  

So what and how do you start blogging? In answering that question there are seven great ways to go about blogging and the following are hopefully some useful tips that will get you started.

1. Write what you know

       When you’re writing the easiest way to go about it is to write what you know about the disease. Telling your own experience and how it has affected your life both good and bad will be more compelling. Not to say you shouldn’t write about an unknown topic, but when your blog starts to sound more like a research paper of something you don’t have a personal connection with, people may not follow you for long. By focusing on what you know your writing will be more real and probably make the reader feel that they can relate. Also you’re in control of what you share. Some folks like me reveal aspects of life that would be considered private. Others may give you a glimpse but not be to revealing. It has to work for you and what you feel comfortable in sharing. There are no rules and you control the content of your writing.

2. Try not to preach

       It’s great to share your perspective on HIV but in your sharing the best way to connect is not by preaching and judging others on how they live with the virus. Although we have HIV we don’t approach it the same way. We all have opinions but sometimes we don’t want to seem like we’re on a higher horse when talking about our status. What works for me may not work for others For instance someone may be into barebacking, having sex without a condom, and although you may not agree with it, you can still state your feelings without it feeling like a condemnation. There is a way to teach without preaching. In the example I used you may want to first give your own personal relationship to the subject and then provide factual information that lets others decide if the information is useful. I think Madonna said it best, “Papa don’t preach’

3. With great power comes great responsibility

       Okay I’ll admit that I stole this from Spiderman but feels that it also applies to blogging. As a blogger you’re providing a reader an insight into something that is unique. They may start to refer to you as you write about HIV with authority. In that aspect you have to realize that online blogging has a certain level of power where your words can instantly become viral and reach many. The thing about hitting the send button after writing a blog entry is that once it’s out there you can’t take it back. So when writing and especially if it’s about information you obtained elsewhere, you have to make sure it’s factual. I’ll run across news articles about HIV and want to instantly share it, but you should do some researching and simple fact check to see if what you’re about to put out there is factual. Earlier this year I made the mistake of not fact checking and wrote a story on what I later found out to be false information. Googling it I discovered that it was making it way onto blogs but not on major news source. False information along with misinforming the community can also contribute to a continued feeling of stigma.

4. Write for you

       I think one of the biggest mistakes one can make in their writing is trying to write something that everyone will like. The truth is that some will gravitate to you based on your style while for others it will have a null effect. Write something that you would like to read or you’re passionate about. Your excitement will come out and people who can relate to it will respond to it. You’ll also approach your writing with enthusiasm as you discover your writing voice. The more you write the more you’ll discover that your voice is unique and gives your blogging personality.

5. Don’t write for comments

       It’s always nice when people start to respond to your post with comments telling you how they either liked or didn’t like what you wrote. It feels good knowing that you’ve written something that creates a conversation but realize that it’s not always the case. I learned in my blogging that just because people don’t leave a comment doesn’t mean they didn’t like what you had to say. I know for myself on certain HIV blog postings people have approached me and told me how much they enjoyed it, even my family has told me in person rather than leave a comment online. There are so many reasons people don’t leave a comment so it shouldn’t discourage you from your sharing. It also shouldn’t be your motivation.

6. Edit, spell check and edit

      Don’t let this one discourage you as not all bloggers are English Majors. But having some grasp on vocabulary will not only help you but the readers understand what you’re trying to say. You don’t want your posts to be lost in translation because of incomplete sentences or paragraphs that don’t make sense. Most will take forgive several misspelled words but not a complete post filled. The best thing to do after you write and before you send is to walk away from it for a few minutes. Come back to it and read it aloud to see if it makes sense to you and if not make the necessary changes. And yes I have been guilty of this so don’t come for me!

7. You’re making a difference

       By sharing your journey of living with HIV you’re helping others who are living the same life you are. You’re making someone feel less alone and giving others a different perspective on how to live with HIV. I never set out to do that but it’s a humbling occurrence to hear from others of how they thought they were the only one going through an experience and want to thank you for sharing. And most importantly you’re making a difference in your own life as blogging your HIV will enrich your life in ways you can’t imagine.

See you online!

       

E.R.

I recently had a medical emergency that required me to go to the emergency room. From that visit many things highlighted to me the recent conversation about affordable and quality health care. As someone with comprehensive medical coverage and living with HIV I never had to give a thought to the services I received. Although I was aware of the issue of uninsured people, in the best way I knew how, I could only relate through their telling. My experience was an eye opening experience that showed the many levels of inequalities of healthcare. But it also gave me a perspective as a man with HIV, visiting the local ER. As a disclaimer I acknowledge all emergency rooms are a waiting room and none claim to offer Four Seasons type service but I do feel there is a difference in how private and city run emergency rooms operate.

My episode began when I sat down for dinner. I knew the moment I swallowed the steak that I was in trouble as it quickly became lodged in my esophagus. This had happened many times before with others warnings me to take small bites. Previous incidents didn’t result in any drastic action so when it happened I felt it would resolve itself. Yet this felt different as no matter what I attempted it just wasn't going down. Despite the efforts of doing a self-Heimlich, drinking a diet Coke which usually helps and according to Google, consuming a table spoon of white vinegar, it simply was not dislodging. So the night was spent with the inability to drink water and swallow food. You would think I would have immediately went to the hospital but knowing how emergency rooms operate and it being late I simply didn’t want to spend a night in a room waiting to be seen. Besides I was sure that during my sleep it would go down by itself.

Having gone 12 hours without food and water I couldn’t even take my HIV medication as it would come right back up. I was out of it and in no mood to take the two subway trains to a reputable emergency room located 45 minutes from the house. I was also feeling cheap and didn’t want to spend money on a cab. I just wanted a quick fix and chose to take myself to the city run hospital that was only 15 minutes away. This hospital is known for bandaging the shooting victims of the inner city and pushing them out to be shot again. Based on it’s location it’s the only medical facility for nearby residents and those without health insurance. It’s because of its close proximity I made my way to it.

While waiting my turn I overheard one man looking for a refill on his Prezista prescription, a HIV medication. My ears pricked up as I wondered to myself what makes that an emergency. Soon after, two guys who were showing each other a lot of public display of affection exclaimed loudly they were there to get some ‘crazy pills’. I assumed that it was a derogatory slang for mental health medications which is no joking matter. In fact I was surprised on how opened many were about their reason for coming in. In their public share it was evident that most of their conditions could have been covered with a regular clinic visit but that’s hard to do if you don’t have insurance. Yet without insurance this may have been their only option. A quick adding of the numbers saw that for those who opposed affordable health care, tax payers are paying double to send someone to the emergency room than they would have sending a person to a regular doctor visit.
           

My interesting interaction moment came during the intake process. As I was explaining to the nurse why I was there, she asked about any other medical conditions. When I informed her I was HIV positive she immediately grabbed her pen and wrote down a name of a doctor. She informed me to go to YouTube and watch this doctor’s videos as he had a cure for HIV. I was shocked that here she was pushing a voodoo doctor on me while I'm trying to see a real doctor. What was also disturbing was the irresponsibility of this medical representative and basically someone who should have known better, passing along misinformation of a disease that is already misunderstood by others. And the scary realization was knowing it was highly unlikely that I was the first she shared this information with and the realization there may have been follow- through on others with this information. It left me wondering how many others have delayed their care with hopes to getting a quick cure for their HIV.I was too weak to challenge the information she provided at that time and reminded myself to call the hospital when I was feeling better.

Despite the interaction with her it was assuring to hear the hospital offering people waiting, the opportunities to receive a HIV test. The discouragement came when two people hearing the word laughed and loudly state, "Nobody wants to hear about the ‘Monster' a term I hadn't heard for a while but reaffirmed the stigma HIV had attached to it. With all these HIV reference in one sitting I thought someone must have known I blogged about HIV and I was getting punked.

Thankfully I made it past the waiting room and moved to the next room of purgatory as my waiting continued. I would get excited when I would see nurses come in but be deflated as they were in there to grab medical supplies. I laughed as I realized that I was placed in a medical closet. My self-advocacy skills were not effective as each nurse were tone deaf to my asking when I would be seen. I did see one nurse and after asking about my HIV status he ignored the fact I was dehydrated but found the time to give me HIV 101 lessons. In my delirium I wanted to say I’ve had HIV longer than your medical profession but knew I was at their mercy.

In my delirium I had texted Joel who rushed down there. When he got there he had this shell-shocked look. I thought it was about my situation but it was more about passing the detectives who were standing outside the room of a guy who was shot. It was nice to have him help cure the loneliness but him being there had another unexpected benefit. Whereas my previous requests for service were unheeded, Joel simply made one request and like that the flood gates of comfort came rushing in. I have to add that Joel is white and I strongly believe that his race changed my level of service. In an instance the missing nurses and doctors suddenly came flooding, stumbling over each other with one of the attending nurses giving me movie star treatment. Instantly I was given a nice fluffy pillow along with a comfortable blanket and the side railings of my bed were raised to make a comfortable bed. I even was even bought Ginger Ale which didn't help me as I couldn't drink it but nonetheless it came with a package of services that was once denied.

          

Even Joel noticed the attentiveness and it was shocking to see the inequality. But sadly I think it’s the reality for many. Living with HIV and no health insurance is a scary thought. The good news was despite no coverage people were seeking care but receiving it in a piecemeal fashion. There are health programs like ADAP but even those programs are getting stretched with long waiting lists or hung up in current budget debates. It was sad knowing based on this small card in my wallet I had access to a regular physician, specialist and dare I say a less chaotic medical setting. The issue of health care is real and each day many including my brethren living with HIV are on the unbalanced side of accessible care. The emergency room was just a small sliver of that disparity. We may not want to vocalize it but there is a huge difference when you have health insurance.

 They ended up not fixing the problem and I had to go to my private hospital and the service was like night and day. I was seen in a timely fashion, received an IV for my inability to drink water and a team of doctors removed the piece of steak. I was able to get that type of service because I had health insurance. My little episode showed how important it is to lend my voice to the fight for affordable and quality health care for all. And for that nurse who referred me to YouTube, in case you are reading this, I reported you so hopefully you will be talked to and sadly it may be business as usual. 

Confesions of a Former Hottie

                Standing on the train platform I looked down and spied a young black youth who looked to be in his early twenties. Instantly my gaydar went off and in his steps he wasn’t trying to hide who he was. Seeing him strut down the platform made me smile as he walked as if he was on a runway and we were the audience for his Topman fashion show. Choosing a spot where everyone could see him he stopped and found his mark as he pulled out his cellphone despite you can’t get a signal at this station and feigning indifference to the others around he enveloped himself into the digital world. He was oblivious to the attention he created to the other men who gave him attention and one even leaving his spot on the platform and in his smooth way shuffling to where the young man was standing. I admit he was cute and I think he knew it, and in my observation I smiled as I reflected on my own days when I myself was a hottie.

                As a young good looking man I had the same walk as I walked as if you couldn’t tell me anything. I was exotic and my exoticness was knowing I was young, gay and black. In essence I was the forbidden fruit your mother warned you about. I portrayed confidence yet it was all a facade as I was trying to figure out what this thing called gay meant. I would never tell you of my insecurities. I just knew that as a young gay man I was a commodity with plenty of older consumers looking to take a bite of that apple in the Garden of Eden. My insecurity was external and I was in a place where I didn’t have to expose my feelings and instead wear this lacquered exterior of indifference. In truth I wasn’t ready for my sexuality as I was a young man given the keys to a car I had yet learned to drive. But I wouldn’t tell you that as I was Mario Andretti and there was no speed limit for me.

                I think at that time my value in myself was in how attractive others thought I was. I had adopted language you hear form most girls, statements of how they didn’t want to date boys their age because they were too immature. I was the same only my reason was that I knew that older men had one thing I didn’t have much at the time, money. And money bought material things that increased my value and set me apart from the other young hotties who gave their stuff away free. It was a dance of what were you willing to give me for me. I knew you couldn’t tell me anything when one paramour who was a famous writer wrote me a large check to be exclusive. I made a promise with fingers crossed and on the way to the bank knowing there was no way I was going to be anyone’s private joy. Honestly many older men were drawn to the young skin and didn’t mind bestowing gifts or showing their own value by having someone young to show off in public. Some in their pursuit of satisfying their sexual gratification were not always looking for a relationship. In fact some had other hotties spread around the city. Some had wives or other relationships that satisfied their other needs and every so often you got the one who truly wanted to be monogamous but asking someone in their twenties to settle down was asking someone to walk on water. It just wasn’t going to happen no matter how many zeros were thrown.

                I was never looking for a relationship only because I didn’t know what a relationship was. I was unaware my transformation into a hottie was preordained for me because of several factors. Growing up my learning’s of being gay was taught to me by old issues of Colt porno magazines or sneaking my VHS copy of ‘Crusin’ in the VCR just to see what gay men look like never minding the fact the movie was about a gay serial killer. At that time something was better than nothing. Unlike today gay images of any kind were easy to see. The mainstream media had yet to jump on the gay wagon and anything remotely gay was something to laugh at or scorn. I didn’t have examples I could look at to see what being committed meant. And in the black community it was like an extremely dry desert with no relief of water as the idea of two black men together was the biggest taboo. And even if I was to find someone I couldn’t do the actions I saw other straight couples do. Holding hands in public, giving innocent kisses while sitting in the park or resting my head on my other half’s shoulder in the movie theatre was not common or welcomed. And even today with many affirming their sexuality one rarely sees the coupling of gay black men showing their affection to others in public. So the idea of trying to be in a relationship was an illusion that was never attainable. In fact based on people’s response it wasn’t something I welcomed as I was having learning lessons at the time of what it meant to be black and didn’t have room on my plate for the meaning of gay.

                My lesson in what a relationship looked like was displayed to me at the one moment in my younger life when I broke my own rule and committed myself to an older person. The stigma of being gay was so prevalent that when out in public we both acted like we were only buddies. Not to simply blame him but as he was older I followed his lead and his example was one of hiding your true self especially in the public view. In my teaching moments I didn’t have anything to show me it was abnormal as at that time it was normal. There was even a time when we went to the movies we left an empty seat between us to leave no doubt to others. Our only action of affection was left to when we were alone in the privacy of our house. It didn’t last long as it was easier to be a hottie without having to put energies in pretending for the sake of others.

                I didn’t set out to be a hottie. I feel I got my title from how others saw me. I honestly felt I was created from the community I was trying to understand. It seemed I was not made visible by my intelligence or personality. I didn’t notice my own ass or size of my package or smoothness of my skin. That’s how others saw me and approached me on those attributes. Even the name hottie was not penned by me as it became my name as I passed the company of others. ‘Hey look at that hottie’ “man he’s a hottie” In that space of looking for identity and living in a society when how your identity is less than because of race, you grab and embrace those things that make you visible even if it isn’t positive. Young black boys especially grow up in a disadvantage place where often our sex and sexuality provides worth to others and gives sense of self even if it’s false.

                Today’s examples of learning of ourselves through our bodies are no longer offered through issues of x-rated magazines and in its stead we embrace images of us in a sexual context where doing porn either professional or homemade is a validation of worth. Unlike our straight brethren who are given instructions and examples as young gay black boys we learn it in the context of sex or sexual attraction. Even our stories of gay black men are swathe in stories of sexual encounters and the other aspects of our lives are left on the cutting room floor. This is a historical context of black men in general as former slaves we were displayed naked on the auction block showing our prowess for the highest bidder and today we have become headless shots on sites such as Adam4Adam where we have no distinctiveness and our selves are seen in the framework of our penis and/or ass shots displayed for the lowest bidder. We carry preordained values such as feeling it’s only a matter of time when we will get HIV as based on any statistics as African American we are constantly on the top of any negative stats.   

                As a former hottie I didn’t know I was continuing the lineage that was already cast before me. I thought I was creating my own identity when in fact my identity was being created for me. Now looking at the young man on the subway platform I smiled not because he was going to follow my footsteps. I smiled because circumstances have changed in the world that being gay is a public conversation instead of a private one. His comfort in self didn’t come off as a sexual self but more as I’m comfortable with myself and in that space I find my confidence.  Are there currently young gay men who see themselves based on their sexual attractiveness. Yes. But by recognizing that we, members of the gay community made them we, can also unmake them by moving past lecherous ways and instead being positive role models with the absence of sexual attraction. I guess my smile was in that in my growth I didn’t immediately see him as a simple sex object but one that carry confidence and pride of self. I didn’t look at him only in a sexual context.  

                So although I call myself a former hottie I still give myself the title of hot except my hotness is not defined by others nor do I seek the naming of it from others. My hotness is no longer border by my sexuality or my sexual positions with others. With my knowledge and a solid footing on my being I can redefine my attractiveness by the new history of what it means to be gay, what it means to be black and most importantly what it means to be a man. In my confessions I reaffirm my worth.