well, i'm going to visit williams. and in terror i visit with some black gay gathering at the lesbian and gay center and of course they had some trouble getting it together, and although it's fabulous, it's homeless: held in the lobby, under a wispy sculpture of an engorged penis from a detached torso, with classical music playing from some other event that eventually devolves to lesbian two-stepping...
it's about relationships. and black gay men. and it's interesting, but no new territory is covered. a question wakes me from dozing: "would you date someone who is HIV+?" and of course, when you are HIV+ and people talk about you as if you're not in the room, like parents of a dazed and confused child, you listen carefully, you become acutely aware of your fate and how it's held in the hands of these people who are going to now make a decision and pronouncement about whether you're good enough to date.
as if HIV+ people didn't have enough feelings of "damaged goods" to drive them suicidal.
a healthy thought crossed my mind, a salvo: "would i date an HIV- person?"
and now i get why some black people won't date white people or why a small group of us got so angry at the white lesbian who joined in on a conversation with over sixty black gay men, and even more angry at the other fifty-five men who were raptly listening to her. what's she doing here? when you're wounded, you cluster in a safe place to protect your life. and when you're majority, you feel free to ostracize, punish and project all that is weak, and bad onto some convenient scapegoat to allow yourself to feel powerful and in control. it's a lie, but it keeps us from spinning off the globe.
i put my hand up at the end. i declare that i am HIV+ and one of the panel aims to save face from the full frontal attack that the group had perpetrated unwittingly on HIV+ people in the room (supposedly some 46% of those present if one believes statistical data)...something about me being brave and not a mess as i'd somewhat deceptively declared as entry to a conversation being conducted by the gorgeous and fabulously dressed of gay black new york. i know i'm an intruder, as much as the white lesbian, because i don't subscribe to the fabulousness of it all. it's not my thing and it's kept me outside the buppie gay life...
the truth lay in the fact that as soon as the session ended it was as if a wall came down between me and them. ok, i own my part. i also throw up my own defense in these situations, afraid of what lies on the other side of the mirror. i dance though with a powerful image. i am conveniently, the elephant in the room by declaration.
and so i go to williams, to talk about HIV on World AIDS Day and what this stigma is, this scarlet 'A' i carry. how much is self-inflicted, how much is inflicted? what do we do about it? if anything at all?
it's about relationships. and black gay men. and it's interesting, but no new territory is covered. a question wakes me from dozing: "would you date someone who is HIV+?" and of course, when you are HIV+ and people talk about you as if you're not in the room, like parents of a dazed and confused child, you listen carefully, you become acutely aware of your fate and how it's held in the hands of these people who are going to now make a decision and pronouncement about whether you're good enough to date.
as if HIV+ people didn't have enough feelings of "damaged goods" to drive them suicidal.
a healthy thought crossed my mind, a salvo: "would i date an HIV- person?"
and now i get why some black people won't date white people or why a small group of us got so angry at the white lesbian who joined in on a conversation with over sixty black gay men, and even more angry at the other fifty-five men who were raptly listening to her. what's she doing here? when you're wounded, you cluster in a safe place to protect your life. and when you're majority, you feel free to ostracize, punish and project all that is weak, and bad onto some convenient scapegoat to allow yourself to feel powerful and in control. it's a lie, but it keeps us from spinning off the globe.
i put my hand up at the end. i declare that i am HIV+ and one of the panel aims to save face from the full frontal attack that the group had perpetrated unwittingly on HIV+ people in the room (supposedly some 46% of those present if one believes statistical data)...something about me being brave and not a mess as i'd somewhat deceptively declared as entry to a conversation being conducted by the gorgeous and fabulously dressed of gay black new york. i know i'm an intruder, as much as the white lesbian, because i don't subscribe to the fabulousness of it all. it's not my thing and it's kept me outside the buppie gay life...
the truth lay in the fact that as soon as the session ended it was as if a wall came down between me and them. ok, i own my part. i also throw up my own defense in these situations, afraid of what lies on the other side of the mirror. i dance though with a powerful image. i am conveniently, the elephant in the room by declaration.
and so i go to williams, to talk about HIV on World AIDS Day and what this stigma is, this scarlet 'A' i carry. how much is self-inflicted, how much is inflicted? what do we do about it? if anything at all?
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