5 Things I’ve Learned About Having HIV

As I reflect back on the diagnosis of my disease I can honestly say it has changed me and my perception of life. I may sound like a broken record as I harp on when I first learned my status 25 years ago, but back then it was a different disease. Back then there was no certainty of how long you would be on this earth. The stigma was much more pronounced as people rallied to stop kids with HIV from going to certain schools or swimming in public pools while family members feared the toilet would get them infected from a positive family member. Yes it was a different time.

            But after all those years I have learned much. I learned not only about the disease but my ability to look at the positive aspects of it and enjoy a wonderful life. It was lessons I wish I knew but now that I know I would like to share with others. I call this the 5 Things I’ve Learned About Having HIV

1. It’s Not a Death Sentence

                  When I was first told my news I thought for sure I had only five years left to wrap up all affairs as I felt I was soon to be leaving the earth. I used Dick Clark New Year Eve’s celebration as my countdown. I just knew each drop of the ball was going to be my last. But a funny thing happened on the way to the forum as I got to experience more New Year ball drops and the death sentence I gave myself was no longer there. I realized that HIV doesn’t mean death. Of course it’s not the easiest road to navigate but what is life without challenges. Along with adopting a healthy lifestyle which included diet, exercise and treating my body like a temple and not allowing negative substances such as drugs, food and people, invade it, I was on my way to living a blessed life. And after 25 years I am not a long term survivor but in a long term position to live the best life one can.

 

2. It’s Okay to Cry

                  I didn’t cry when I heard my news. Not that I was trying to be macho but I just didn’t want to give the disease the luxury of breaking me. Tears that should have fell, I kept them behind a wall and my smile was the outside gate that gave one the impression that life was good. I don’t know when I had my first cry, but I know that all it took was one hole from life to poke that wall and the dam burst open. The wonderful thing was that instead of feeling like I was lost, I instead felt freer. It was like my tears were a monsoon that rained down on me and washed away all my pain. At that point I gave myself permission to cry. Having any type of disease is something we’re not used to and if we cry, we have every right. Even now I give myself permission as I’ve earned those tears, but I’m careful to not stand too long in the flood. Crying is not a sign of weakness but can be a cleansing of the soul that makes room for good things. It’s okay to cry.

 

3. We Are All Stigmatized

                  When I make this statement I don’t mean to say that we should accept stigma. I say it in hopes that others don’t let stigma be a barrier to their happiness. I know from my own experiences how people can be ignorant and show it either by their actions or the words they choose. I learned that if I let people’s words direct my life I would be on a path of their choosing instead of mine. I learned that you will be stigmatized because of HIV. But you’ll also be stigmatized for your gender. You’ll be stigmatized for your age, your race, your height, hell even for the clothes you choose to wear that day. People just love to stigmatize as most have to put a label on you or find a way to place you in a box to understand you. And most of us fear what we don’t understand which results in stigma. As my mama would say, “Do You”. Live the life you want to live.

4. You’ll Actually Be More Healthy Than Others

                  This has a caveat but people with HIV can be healthier than those negative. That’s only if you maintain a consistent visit with your primary HIV doctor. A benefit of regular visits is that along with managing your HIV other health factors are examined. Often you find yourself being proactive rather than reactive. For myself I learned about certain ailments that were not connected to my status based on my doctor visit. One of the situations was when I learned my Vitamin D levels were extremely low. A low Vitamin D afflicts many African Americans and is one of the reasons behind heart disease and diabetes. And again you don’t need to be positive, but you do place yourself in a more healthy position by addressing it sooner than later, something many negative people don’t do.

5. Someone Will Love You

                  One of the hardest things about learning your status is feeling that no one will ever love you. I felt that way once when I was told the news. I thought I was going to always be alone. Scanning personal ads you would see people looking for attributes they preferred along with things they didn’t want- ‘no fems, no fats, no +’.  

Makes you feel like a leper. But love is an amazing thing because it comes when you least expect it and the greatest love is the one you give yourself. That love radiates and makes others want to love you. Living a bitter life only attracts rotten apples and bad intentions. By giving myself the gift of love I have found a great soul mate and despite my circumstances as a negative person he accepts me flaws and all. But I learned that I also had to accept my own self. And 13 years still going strong.

I know there are many more lessons for me to learn but these were the top five. Maybe after reading these, others can share what they have learned. I know for myself I learned my lessons from those around me and it has all added up to make me a better person. Happy New Year!

Lessons Learned Starting a Pride Committee

               As we exit the month of June and the celebrations of Pride month, many organizations are already in the planning stage for 2013. Along with the established groups and with the winds of tolerance slowly shifting to acceptance to the LGBT community, there are some organizations that may be coming to the table for the first time to give birth to Pride events being celebrated in their area.  Being one of those who sat at a table to make Pride happen I learned several lessons and of what to do and not to do. I want to share my personal experience and reflect of what I call the rise and fall of my gay black Pride.   
              I was fortunate enough to be a founding member of a group of like minded people who wanted to start a gay black pride committee in Minnesota. At the time there was already a collective of people who had started a pride organization called the Minnesota Gay Black Pride. This organization was responsible for organizing black pride events for the Twin Cities area. As a person not part of the organization I was one of the initial groups of people who felt that the organization could be doing more. There were others in the community who shared the same feeling and felt that there were things that should have been done differently.
            In other words we were the back seat passengers who yelled out directions but didn't want to help steer. Opinions differed on what the focused of Pride should be especially when it came to gay black issues. Some felt that there should be a focal point on the rising rates of HIV/AIDS and other health disparities plaguing our community. While others felt that we simply needed to celebrate as we were becoming sore from getting hit over the head with messages of how we should wear a condom.
           Pressure was placed on the Minnesota Gay Black Pride to address these issues and provide something that everyone could enjoy. Yet doubt existed if the organization could make something successful happen as not only were their expertise questioned but also there were rumblings that monies granted to the group to stage Pride events were being misappropriated. With the building mistrust, I along with a similar thinking group of individuals started Soul Essence, a gay black Pride planning committee that would focus on health issues combine with showcasing the arts in an African Diaspora way.
         The Minnesota Gay Black Pride wanted to collaborate for the benefit of the community as they felt it would only makes us stronger but because we were set in our ways we didn't see the bigger picture. Maybe if we had we would have seen all the signs and learned the lessons that the Minnesota Gay Black Pride had experienced but as my mother used to say, "You make your bed, you lay in it". Despite our initial first and second year success, we soon followed the same road map that lead to the same demise of the Minnesota Gay Black Pride. From that experience these were the lessons I learned and hopefully it can help other grassroots pride committees, no matter what race, as they plan for next year. Lessons learned were the following:

It's Always About the Personalities   
At Soul Essence we had a good group but like any other there were some disagreements over something that was usually petty. It eventually got to a point where we couldn't work with certain people as we focused on personalities and not performance. Organizations can be easily divided by very simple but deeply divisive things.  Sometimes it's as simple as personalities clashing, someone feeling disrespected, such as being called a name or some other word that makes you puff out your chest or bare your claws. Or maybe during a night at the club some member talked 'shade' about another and it got back to him/her. Rather than respond like responsible adults and work out the situation, most times people are so offended  that they decide to create their own Pride organization, usually pulling members from the other group. The loser in these situations is usually the community because they have to decide which group to align themselves with.  And instead of something being stronger, we are overall weaker because of this division. Ironically, pride gets in the way of Pride.

We Don't Need No Stinking Business Plan
     What's great about grassroots efforts is that they literally start out of nothing.  They usually have very little (if any) money but plenty of passion to fuel them. This is how successful organizations start. The passion and mission is clear and the dedication to make it successful is so strong that you can get a great group of people with various skills willing to make it happen for free. That's great but in the end you are still operating a business. And like any other business you need people who have some knowledge of how to make a business successful and the tools to make it succeed. You have to also find the strengths and weaknesses of each person and place them in roles that will benefit the group. So, if a person is great at grant writing, it makes no sense to have them as the secretary taking notes at each meeting. Playing to strengths will not only benefit the organization but it will make people who are volunteering feel like they are meaningfully contributing to the mission.

Get Those Volunteers
     For me this is one of the greatest things I wished we would have done ourselves. Along with the consistent members of the group, for small events you need outside folks who can help out. Even if it's just for that one event it lessens the burden and frustrations of an already stretched thin committee. It also helps to alleviate some of the frustration felt by some members when it comes to the actual event.  Oftentimes people can feel like they are always doing way more than others in the group. This is especially frustrating when you have a full-time job outside of your volunteer time at a Pride group. From the beginning, start reaching out to people to get them to volunteer. A big key to having a successful volunteer program is always making sure they feel happy and heard. When someone offers to volunteer, respond right away!  Not when you feel like getting back to them which could be a couple of weeks. By then that person may no longer be interested or feel you don't need their services.

Don't Sleep Where You Work
     In our organization we had partners or lovers who served on the same group. Several times there were cases when the partners would be having problems in their personal relationship.  This would result in the tension being transferred to the group and putting everyone in the middle of a lovers' quarrel.  Instead of planning events you're putting out fires or handing out Kleenex. Not to say there shouldn't be partners sitting across from each other to help plan Pride but recognize that conflicts may arise and that couples should agree to keep the home issues at home.  And if you really want to see sparks fly, have board chair directly supervise their loved one. I guarantee there will be fireworks or feelings of favoritism from others.

And the number one thing that will destroy your efforts-

Money
     There's a saying that if you really want to wipe out a grassroots effort. Give them money. Don't get me wrong as money will help move forward your mission but just know that with the rewards also comes some disadvantages.  It's amazing how the dynamics will change as people who were volunteering their time will now put a worth on their contribution and expect to be paid that amount. And it will never be the same amount of other people giving their time. Also, don't put someone in charge of the money who can't manage their own personal finances. In other words, if they can't pay their own bills, how do you expect them to pay someone else? Complete transparency is needed to lessen any accusations of mismanaging funds
Sadly the one thing we accused the Minnesota Black Gay Pride of doing, abusing donations, was also the same thing that Soul Essence was accused of which lead to its demise. 

       Finally, with all of this I'm not trying to say don't put together a pride committee. In fact, we need Pride celebrations more than ever.  Especially in cities that are underrepresented and have never had a Pride event. My true objective is to help others not make the same mistakes we did. And while my experience in this was with an organization focused on the LGBT black population, this can happen to any new start-up. Nothing comes easy but if I had known what I knew before we started Soul Essence, maybe things would have been different and we would have celebrated pride in 2012 and now be planning for 2013.

     If you've helped start a Pride event/committee, please let me know if you think there are things I've missed or (even missed the mark on).  Your comments will help not only me but someone looking ahead for Pride in 2013!

A Bitter Pill

        I hate taking pills. As I unscrew the tops from each prescription bottle and fill my hand with the various shape and colored pills I go through a robotic motion as they make a small mound in my palm. Funny thing is that after so many years of swallowing them you’d think it’d be easy. That I would operate on auto-pilot. That after fourteen years of taking many assortments of tablets, my mind would be okay with the fact that my health is dependent on something no bigger than my pinkie finger.

            I had gotten away scot free for the first 12 years of my diagnosis of not having to take them. I was reluctant to even consider them when I learned of my status. It already seemed my life was now out of control and the last thing I needed was a pill to dictate how to live my life. I didn’t want to build my life around a schedule of pills. Especially the pills that was available to me at the time. I didn’t always want to swallow something on a full stomach or take so many hours after a meal. I didn’t want dispense pills in a blue pill reminder that made me think of senior citizens. I wanted to sit in the driver seat but it seemed like more than ever I was being forced to scoot over and sit in the passenger seat.

         At the time I made a deal with my doctor that I would only consider the pill if my blood count reached a point where it was in the danger zone. He didn’t question me but respected my feelings as he knew that if you’re not in a frame of mind to follow a daily regime, you’ll do more damage if you’re inconsistent with your medication. The rule of thumb is that your body will build up a resistance to the HIV drugs if you take them only when you feel like it. Having your body resistant to medications leaves you with few choices of antiviral drugs that will keep the virus at bay.

      “Someone once asked me that if there was something that could save your life why not take it?” It wasn’t that simple to me as I had several unspoken fears. The first fear was me not knowing what the drugs would do to my body over time. Knowing that my liver and kidney has to take the blunt of the medication and praying they have the tenacity to hang in there as I get older.

        The second fear was the side effects that some of the pills can cause. I heard from other people about their ill such as headaches or upset stomachs. I didn’t want to endure that. I didn’t want to take a pill to take a pill, an endless merry-go-round with no gold brass ring to catch. I basically didn’t want my medicine cabinet to look like a drugstore.

        Speaking of drugstore, I was scared at the time of the stigma of simply getting my prescription filled. What used to be my secret would now be known by strangers behind the counter as a young person barely out of high school rings up my co-pay. I could have looked at it as business as usual but to me it was my business and my circumstances were unusual as I still questioned why me.

  

       My choice was finally taken out of my hand when the agreement I made with my doctor came to pass. My blood work numbers were starting to not look good and if I didn’t do anything while I had the ability and my body was strong, I would probably reach a point when it would be too late.

         I learned then that you are considered to have AIDS when your CD4 number went below 200. Although mine hovered around the 300 range, in a weird way I felt that as long as I had HIV and not AIDS that I was okay. I rationalized that I had it, but didn’t have it. That balloon of my reality soon burst when my doctor informed me that my CD4 was below 200. I had AIDS. It was now time for me to look at my pill option.

            I still don’t like my pills but the reality is that without those pills I would be in a different situation. And I probably would have waited until I was lying in the hospital bed, when things were now considered to late. My argument is that I wanted control over this virus but the truth was that by letting it go unchecked, it was in control. And not in a good way.

            I learned to love chocolate milk as it seemed to be the only thing that helps the pills go down without me gagging. I also learned to talk to my doctor to find a regiment that was easy for me to handle. If something didn’t make me feel right I could work with him to find something that did. Luckily in all my years there has only been one pill that didn’t agree with me, and it was quickly replaced. I felt I made the right choice and was using something that could help. And whatever felt stigma I perceived would happen, would have to be removed from my life as I wanted to live without the authority or perception of others.

         Do I still have fears and concerns? Yes but as I see my viral load remains undetectable and my CD4 being the highest it’s ever been, I feel better knowing that finally I’m no longer ignoring the actuality of my health. And for me the bitter pill I swallow is knowing that although I have HIV and I have to take medication, I also have control.

A Letter to A Father I Never Met-Repost

Dear Dad or Father or the person who donated his sperm,

I'm writing to say that I wished I had a chance to meet you as I've always wondered about the other half of me. I'm sorry i missed out on the memories we would have had I'm being positive when I say that they would have been good ones. As a child when I saw men shoes I wondered how you would look walking in them. Maybe me with you walking hand in hand.

I want you to know that I turned out okay despite your absence. Ma had to take up the space you left behind and it wasn't always perfect but she did the best that she could with what she had. I've done a lot of good myself since I've been on my own. I think you would have been proud of me.

I wished i knew your name. I've asked ma but she gives me a different name each time I ask. maybe something happened between you both. But it's not my place to ask.

I do look in the mirror and wonder if we look the same. As you can tell I have a shaved head as my hair started to recede when I was young. Did the same thing happened to you? But people say it looks good on me so I guess it's cool.

I hope you know I'm not mad at you or at least I'm not mad at you anymore. To do so would take up space that is reserved for love and at this point in my life love is all I want to share.  When I was young. I would hear jokes about black fathers having babies and leaving and I knew it was true because it happened to me. I guess raising a child is scary or there were other reasons you left. The saddest I felt is whether you knew it or not my other siblings had a different father. Fathers that they could call or go visit. I was the only one who couldn't do that. I remember as a child they gathered around me and started to tell me how i didn't have a father. It hurt but I didn't let them see. I cried when they went away. So I guess that was one of the times i was mad you weren’t there.

But I'll have you to now that I've grown stronger since then and the tears have stopped falling. Why do black men leave? It's a question I've asked myself as I'm not the only one who has grown up without a father.

But I want you to know that I’ve climbed some mountains I thought were too high to climb. I got my advanced degree and have a great opportunity to put my words in places for others to see.

I want to even go as far as to say I made a difference.  I may have stopped looking for you but I haven’t stop looking for the good in me that I can give to others.

Whatever your reason for leaving just know that if I have a child I'll always be there and I'll always show him love. I didn't say that to make you feel guilty but to let you know I learned something from your absence.

Sorry for the typo's but i just wanted to write something from my heart and like life realize not everything is perfect. But thank you for bringing me into this world and the gift of life you gave me I'm going to give it to others whether through my words actions or my essence.

So think of me and when you do feel I hope you feel proud knowing the part of you that you gave to make me has sprouted up and stands tall as a strong black man.

Well ending my letter but not my love

Your son

Hidden in the Open: A Photographic Essay of Afro American Male Couples

         I recently came across a wonderful collection of photography that showed gay men of color who are coupled or posed together in intimate ways that doesn’t cross the line of decency. The wonderful thing about this online gallery is that it dates back to the 19^th century, giving one a glimpse into what is often not seen, black men in a relationship.

            Compared to the sexualized images that are displayed today of black men, it’s refreshing to see that the concept of black men being in love or being in the company with each other especially during a time when it was more than a crime, it was a double strike for harm: being gay and being black. I cannot imagine what such a relationship endured and what obstacles had to be overcome to maintain such a relationship.

            To know that for the men in the pictures forces were in place from both sides: one side that would do harm based on the color of your skin and the other side, your own black community, who may inflict the same harm based on your sexuality choice.

             Credit for the photographs goes to Historian Trent Kelly who has done a great job assembling these pictures taken from the last 140 years of gay black history. By gathering the pictures as a collection he archives a lost history which is often not seen. As Mr. Kelly states in a previous interview, “Some of these images are sure to be gay and others may not. The end result is speculative at best for want in applying a label. Not every gesture articulated between men was an indication of male to male intimacies. Assuredly, what all photographs in this book have in common are signs of Afro American male affection and love that were recorded for posterity without fear and shame.”

            I’m humbled by the smile of two men in one photograph taken in the 30’s as they stand side by side, each displaying a joy washed over their face. It’s a testimony that love can endure and that it’s also timeless. That love can be macho, that it can be timeless, a template for today.

            I have heard from some people I know stating why they are not in a relationship. Often I hear about the stigma and the overall difficulties of being gay and a person of color in today’s society, but to see these pictures and placing it in the context of the time when it was taken you have to wonder if the barriers that exist today are as difficult as they were in the early twentieth century?

            Mr. Kelly further states the reasoning why he started the project as he felt that Afro American gay male and couple has largely been defined by everyone but themselves. As evident by the sexualized images of Mapplethorpe or even the mentality of the public as gay black men are often stripped of their identity and today placed in either a grouping of being an abomination or a category of sexuality with a new identity that removes their face and are viewed based on their ‘BBC’ or other less flattering and newly adopted negative tags such as ‘thug’ If you’re looking for such an image in these collections I guarantee you, you’ll be disappointed

.           There are truly some people I personally know who actually are under the impression that gay black men didn’t exist until the arrival of Langston Hughes or the oft mentioned, James Baldwin. But in fairness there is not a huge collection of images of black men in the past showing affection. And their stories are often not told. Usually the only images of black men in general that we are treated with are ones of us hanging from the tree with a crowd of revelers smiling.  

            What’s affirming is to see the confidence that is displayed in the pictures of two men who can be in the same company without the air of machismo. In this month of celebrating Pride I hope people who view these pictures, especially Afro-American’s can come away with the knowledge that we have been in love with each other for centuries. That the love we have shown each other has endured segregation, men in white hoods, the taunt lynching rope, the biting of the dog while marching for our civil rights and the emergence of a four letter word called AIDS.

            I thank Mr. Kelly for assembling these photographs. Although they have existed for years by assembling them together for easy viewing he has done something that is very beneficial not only for the black community but for the gay community as a whole. He is has made sure we have not become the ‘invisible man’ and by archiving our history he provides a glimpse of what our future can look like.

            If you can, make sure you look at the collected photos and maybe come up with ways that the love displayed today can be archived and stories told, never to be lost anymore.

Photographs of Afro-American Men 1920's-today 

Father's Day

            Chuck was a man who clearly had dreams just like anyone else. And like everyone else he was also a person who wanted to love and be loved in return. In honor of Father's Day I reflect on Chuck and recognize that it will be close to a year since his passing.
             I met Chuck or rather Chuck met me at a HIV support group. I later learned from him he had intentions once he read a recent story written about the group with a photo of me published along with the article. Whatever his intentions was we hit it off despite the fact that he had twenty years over me, me being in my early thirties-he in his fifties. It wasn’t like he was robbing the cradle but was my first time dating someone older and there were reservations because of the age difference but since we had so much in common, and not just our status,  we become a couple.
            I had always admired Chuck as he was a driven person and refused to let his status stop him from living a full life. He had a successful career of which when Mondays came around he welcomed it as he loved what he did. He shared his love with his dog Tasha who didn’t give me that same love right away as she would yap at me and keep a clear distance. But one day after slipping her a whole beef rib, she warmed up to me right away. The power of the rib! And the bulk of Chuck’s love went to his son. A young man that could brighten up and remove any bad moods Chuck would experience. As a single father, his son was always first in his life.

            Chuck was known for many things but there were two that stood out. One was his cooking. He loved to get in his kitchen and whip up a gourmet type meal without the need of a cookbook. Although the meal may sometimes be served close to midnight as it had to be perfect, it was always worth the wait. I would joke that he should stop calling it dinner and call it breakfast. One of those meals consisted of me and him sitting in the kitchen while he did his magic making sure I stayed out the way. He was limping that day as he would sometimes have trouble with his back. Noticing it, I told him I could order out. You would have thought I stole his check as he gave me a look that telegraphed, “Are You Crazy.” Even offering to help prepare the meal he gave me the same look with a playful tightened grip on the knife that warned me that if I dared moved off the stool I was sitting on; there’d be hell in the suburbs.

            He explained it was one of his new meds giving him a slight numbness in his leg but he’d be damned, as he told me, to let a pill smaller than his pinkie stop him from enjoying what he loved to do. I then asked him something that was always curious to me. In a tactful way I asked him was it hard to have HIV in his fifties and did he worry about the future. I’ll never forget how he stopped and real plainly told me, “Ain’t nothing in this life easy, you going to have things that will want to make you give in. But that’s when you start living. And I’ll be damned if anything think it’s going to come along and make me give in. I have a son to raise” As for the future, he let told me, “Until the future get here, live the life you have now”. Even in his time of need it wasn’t about him, but his family.

            It was one of many things I admired about Chuck, the honesty he had with his son. His son knew he was gay but because Chuck made himself available to answer any questions, he erased the mystique of it. Chuck shared that the hardest thing was trying to explain why he needed to take the many pills he did and why sometimes he didn’t feel so good after taking those same pills. He assured his son that he was not living a death sentence. He did when HIV wasn’t considered a disease that would be one you could manage as protease inhibitors were not available and side effects were more the norm. Yet he would never let any of his ills stop him from his fatherly duties and spending time with his son.

            I used to never allow myself the thought of having a family. Especially being diagnosed in my teens, I had a harder time believing that I would be alive in my thirties. But now that I met that age benchmark and realizing I wasn’t going anywhere, Chuck opened my eyes to the possibilities and in a way he modeled to me how to have a full life in my fifties and beyond without my status draining the enjoyment of my life.

             Eventually Chuck and I broke up but we didn’t part ways. Even after it wasn’t a friend with benefits situation; it was simply a friendship that recognized, although we shifted our relationship on one level, we could still be friends on another level. Soon after Chuck’s son grew up and moved out the house and then after Chuck’s beloved dog crossed the Rainbow Bridge into another life.

            I can’t say how the silence of the house affected Chuck; I just know he was a person who loved to be surrounded by laughter. Luckily the laughter was replaced with the help of his grandchildren. He was truly one of a kind.

             Chuck went home at the age of 68. He will always be missed. I know Tasha is glad to see him. To me he wasn’t just a good friend. He was inspiration; he was a person in love with life, he was the greatest cook in the world. But most of all and as we will recognize on the special holiday for men like him, he was the greatest father.

Happy Father’s Day Charles.

This Woman's Work

I recently had a great conversation with someone I consider a strong presence in the HIV field, Dee Bailey-founder of Watchful Eye, a program designed to get people tested, educated and involved with HIV. In my conversation with her she discussed all the unique ways that they have addressed barriers that prevent people from getting tested.

She was excited in her talk as she shared how they provided HIV testing beyond the clubs, using unique methods such as partnering up with Universoul Circus, a traveling circus, similar to Barnum and Bailey’s but made up of an all African-American showcase of performers. I was amazed as she discussed how she was made honorary ringmaster during intermission and how from the big circle and surrounded by community members of color she was able to inform the audience the importance of testing. Also making sure available testing vehicles were positioned outside the circus for those interested.

And not to let any opportunity pass her by she also aligned herself with the free concert series which are held in Brooklyn. I’ve always felt that this was a great way to conduct testing as it was a captured audience of people who arrive hours early just to get a good seat as they wait for their favorite Soul or R&B artist to perform. By casting a huge net of HIV prevention, not only are MSM’s tested but the general population have the ability to know their status, which includes those who may not identify as MSM even though they may participate in the actions.

Hearing the passion in her voice as she described her ‘out of the box’ prevention methods I was reminded how much of a role woman play in this battle. Although it’s known that HIV is not just a male issue let alone a gay male issue, it’s a reminder that women are not only infected but affected by what is going on in the community. And as gay men we owe credit to women for helping us overcome obstacles this disease presents before us.

Although Dee is a soldier in this battle she still presents that tenderness quality that puts one at ease. I know that for many men who felt the stigma of getting tested, with her passion displayed, got the test not because she was trying to meet a quota but because they knew genuinely cared for their well being. It makes me of the role women have played in my own life as I have tried to get a grasp on this virus. In fact even if I remove HIV, women in many ways have been influential in the milestones in my life. From my mother filling the shoes of an absent father, to my female friend who I trusted enough to tell her I was gay, to my closet female friend who took me in her arms when I cried out my HIV status. Not to say that I couldn’t trust a straight man with my information but at the time I felt most straight women I knew weren’t wrapped up in a ‘machismo’ identity which prevented them from providing emotional support to a gay man.

A female friend was the one who answered my call when I felt I was at the end of my rope and was contemplating ending my life. I wasn’t told to, “Man Up” but instead was listened to. Her words of encouragement and comfort let me know that although I was in a storm, I wasn’t there alone.

She let me be me. I didn’t have to put on airs or puff my chest out as a sign of manhood. I didn’t have to stand up straight and could rest my weight on one hip without judgment.

I found safety in the ability to sing along with the Broadway tunes and secure enough to ask her, “Does these jeans make me look fat?”

Dee Bailey and I were on the same page when we talked about how sometimes in this fight with HIV that sometimes it’s not just the disease that we have to fight but sometimes it’s the funders such as the Department of Health who place such strict guidelines on who should or shouldn’t be tested. Both feeling, it wasn’t how you identified but the fact all are identified as being at risk for HIV.   

In this battle there are so many not just on the frontline but who are also behind the scenes pushing legislature, directing community based agencies, educating through at, radio, drama and the spoken word all to create a greater understand what this epidemic is.

So I say this not to just Dee but to all the women infected and affected by HIV. Your gifts are recognized and for those in my life I appreciate all the love and understanding. I can only speak for myself in telling you how this journey in life has been a less lonely road to travel and without you.

And Dee you represent what we need more, not just a female presence but the innovation you create in confronting this disease. You let us know that this woman’s work is not done until this disease is gone.