This past week, newspapers have picked up the story of Jim Malone, a California man who had been diagnosed HIV-positive eight years ago but now has found out he is negative. In 1996, he checked into the Oakland Department of Veterans Affairs clinic with lab results showing he was HIV-positive. The clinic did its own test; the results came back negative—but Malone was never told.
It’s curious to me that most of the major news outlets glommed onto this story. According to the CDC, false positive HIV antibody tests do happen, but they are statistically rare. Why all the attention on a story that’s an exception to the rule? Why focus on an individual “becoming negative” when thousands on top of thousands are becoming positive?
What happened to Jim Malone—who struggled with depression and lost weight because of the diagnosis—is a tragedy. As a gay man of middle age, he had lost many of his friends to AIDS. He didn’t need this particular cosmic joke and I hope he builds his life anew. But I worry that the media’s attention points to a collective fantasy to believe the world’s been given a wrong diagnosis. AIDS has all been a mistake, we imagine. We’ll wake up tomorrow and learn that three million people hadn’t died from AIDS last year.
While this fantasy might have been understandable in, say, 1984, today it seems like just another flavor of complacency. It’s still relatively easy for those who are negative in middle America to keep AIDS “over there”—in the gay community, the African-American community, in India, China, or South Africa. Perhaps more insidious than the calls for those with AIDS to be shipped off to updated leper colonies is the ability to excise AIDS from one’s consciousness: If I’m negative, AIDS is not my problem; it’s someone else’s problem. Middle America is only able to enjoy this mental quarantine because they don’t live in South Africa, India, or China, where being positive is fast becoming the norm.
Don’t get me wrong—there’s still a lot of complacency and stigma in these countries as well. Neighbors still shun neighbors who have AIDS. But at least they are compelled to form some sort of relationship—positive or negative—to the pandemic other than an apathetic one. That’s exactly what Thom Fitzgerald’s new film, 3 Needles, challenges us to do if we haven’t already: Find our place in (what is now literally) the world of AIDS. Each character in the film calls a different corner of the globe home—South Africa, China, and the United States—but all are trying to either put distance between themselves and AIDS or unite with others in the fight. Sandra Oh, this month’s cover story, is one of the stars of 3 Needles and she shares the filmmaker’s passion to encourage people to find their place and work from there.
Whether she’s filming a PSA in support of an ASO or getting tested regularly, Ms. Oh seems constantly aware of her place in this world of AIDS. For her, that means making the bridge between North America and the rest of the world easier to walk. Or voicing her opinion about governmental policies. Or contributing her blockbuster talent to an indie film about HIV. In her interview she states: “When AIDS is visible to people, they’ll talk more about it. AIDS will move to the forefront of people’s consciousness, which is where it should be. Then Americans won’t be as apathetic.” Indeed, Americans will find their place and work from there.
On a sad note: Christopher Hewitt, A&U’s literary editor and one of its founding board members, passed away over the summer. A tribute will be featured in an upcoming issue of the magazine. Mr. Hewitt’s enormous literary talent and guiding spirit will be sorely missed by all.
September 2004
