Frontdesk by David Waggoner
Diseases come, and diseases go. Or they mutate. That apparently is what the media would have us believe in terms of a new super-virus, one that has stricken at least one gay man in New York City and possibly dozens of others around the country. A bit of déjà vu? Perhaps. While the world watches, scientists, educators, activists, and members of the HIV community are wondering if this “new” strain of antiretroviral-resistant HIV is just the beginning of a new and even scarier chapter in the long saga of the AIDS crisis.
The crystal meth use and multiple sex partners being associated with the “new” strain are sure to be perceived as “irresponsible” by many. Will the activities of a minority of gay and bisexual men spell the end of the willingness of many Americans to take up the cause of AIDS? Or will some reject this latest “health scare” and concentrate on the ongoing and underlying problems of the AIDS epidemic in this country? Will wearing AIDS ribbons mean anything anymore if AIDS education and prevention sound like they’re being mocked? Even though this new fast-acting AIDS—as the tabloids are calling it—is not common at all (less than one percent of people testing HIV-positive even have a drug-resistant strain), the so-called matrix of barebacking and “rampant” methamphetamine use in urban gay centers will only further bolster misconceptions about an already stigmatized community of men who have sex with men.
These questions and others are at the tip of many of my friends’ tongues when they try to recall what it was like for people living with AIDS in the eighties. Like a chilling wake-up call for the gay community, this new superbug goes beyond the daily newspaper headlines. It shines an unwelcome spotlight on responsible members of the gay and bisexual communities who continue to wear condoms, and yet definitely don’t embrace the abstinence-only method of AIDS control.
And yes, that’s what it’s all about: controlling an epidemic that is still fueling stigma, misunderstanding, and even mini-epidemics of tuberculosis and hepatitis in this country. Without a safe harbor approach for people who are HIV-positive; without a sympathetic educational system that actually works; and without leadership in Washington that “gets” the crisis in its own backyard, then it does little to preach to the seroconverted. As this month’s cover story subject, Deborah Cox, knows so well, AIDS is not just about gay men. As she accurately and succinctly puts the problem: “You can’t tell people to abstain. We are living in a world where sex sells and hormones drive everyone.” That said, Ms. Cox understands the need for always trumpeting the message, and to never let one’s guard down. HIV/AIDS is about public awareness, but it shouldn’t be about public hysteria. And that’s why pop culture can be the strongest medicine and the youth of today can be their own best advocates.
Scaring everyone back to the eighties isn’t what the safer sex message has to be about. It should be about taking ownership of one’s body, respecting the rights of others, and being there for a future generation. With the lyrics of one of Deborah Cox’s most requested songs playing in my head, “Nobody’s supposed to be here,” I’m more aware than ever about how music can move us to action and get us to reconsider our direction. And in this case—because the health crisis affects not only minorities, gays, youth, and children orphaned by this disease—it’s an anthem that applies to so many reasons for offering hope. And giving a damn and taking charge of the future.
March 2005
