Florida Agenda

By Christian Alexander

The Elephant in the room is still there, sitting quietly in its corner, just waiting to be brought up. Trouble is, maybe someone will throw it a peanut now and again, but no one really wants to approach it. The Elephant of which I speak is, of course, HIV/AIDS.

The funny thing is that no matter how many of us throw peanuts at the poor thing, it just keeps getting bigger and bigger and still no one seems to notice. How do we miss such an obvious animal? Because we’ve been avoiding it for so very long now and we’ve gotten used to it just sitting there quietly … always quietly as not to disrupt our blissfully ignorant little lives.

As I said in my last installment, AIDS is a four-letter word, but it has become a more acceptable, less gloom-filled four letter word than it once was. Having grown up in the 1980’s, I recall a time before it was even called HIV or AIDS. I remember something called GRID, which for those of you too young to remember or whom have just chosen to forget was an abbreviation for “Gay Related Immune Deficiency.” Between AIDS and GRID, I am forced to go with AIDS, at the very least, it doesn’t single out a specific group of people. Time went on, names changed, Doctor’s were still clueless and the media began to catch wind of this new “Gay Plague” that was spreading like wildfire.

Throughout the 80’s, a few beloved Hollywood as well as musical stars fell victim, rallying the likes of Elizabeth Taylor, Doris Day, and others to the cause. Lest I forget the relevance of young AIDS patient Ryan White, who lost his fight against the disease but who continues to live on through his foundation.

The point here is that although HIV was still a taboo subject not to be brought up in mixed company, it had “Star Power.” Sure, it was still going to kill you and, if you listened to all the religious groups, we deserved what we got. If it weren’t for Hollywood pouring money into the cause and all the brave souls trying to change the disease’s image from a “Gay Man’s” problem to a national crisis, we might still be living in the ignorance of the time. There is still a great deal of that ignorance with us today. Shameful as it is to admit, there is still a part of me that wishes I were oblivious to the fact that, inside my body, in my blood and wherever else it travels, there’s a virus wrecking havoc on whatever is still left of my immune system (which, from what the doctors tell me, isn’t very much).

Fast forward a bit to today. HIV/AIDS has taken a backburner to terrorism and the economy. The drug companies peddle their wares on television for all to see.

By Christian Alexander

Look! The new advertising! It’s so exciting! We’re not dying anymore … NO! We now (and I’m not exactly sure when this happened) have a “manageable illness!” Oh, the joy! They are showing it on television, so it MUST be true.  Forget the miserable (I despise referring to myself this way) “old timers.” There’s a pill just for you! Side effects? What side effects? The last advertisement I saw for one of these meds featured several attractive, well-built men climbing rocks, hang gliding, running marathons and the like.

While I’m sure this is within reach of many of the HIV population and I wish them the best of health from here to come, I have a big a big problem with this. Whereas in the 80’s, AIDS=DEATH, now they are promoting it as no big deal.

Take a pill or two and you’ll be out climbing Everest in no time. As, for “old timers,” who have been surviving with this longer than that cute, 21-year-old twinkie you saw the other day has been alive, it has a much different meaning.

We watch as the cute little twinkie discovers the bars and all they entail. Will he/she/un-decided know the risks they are taking? Will they care? Or, will they just be as oblivious as I once was and wait until it’s too late to get educated. They think no matter what happens, it won’t happen to THEM and even if it does, there’s a magic f… pill to take!

When you were told you were POZ back in the middle ages or further back into the dark ages, you were basically told you had a big expiration date on your forehead.

Well, I may be expired in a lot of ways, but not the one that counts. Nor do I intend to be – at least not until I get my Botox.
Until my next rant, take your vitamins and stay healthy!

By Christian Alexander

“Disclosure.” It is one of the few words in the English language that still disturbs me.  In fact, it’s right up there with racial slurs, ethnic slurs, the all-to-often used four letter words (f…, sh… etc.), and the word “faggot” (I’ve never cared for either being called one from some uneducated straight person, nor do I like when gay men call each other that word). I was brought up to have some semblance of etiquette and some language just won’t do.

My third (and last) “husband,” if you will, and I eventually come to this conversation fairly late in our relationship. We had this old fashioned courtship thing going on, straight out of a good romance novel. From the night we met, there was instant chemistry. It was a fairy tale. (No pun intended. Okay, maybe a little intended.)

After having been on several dates, the night came when he took me back to his place. I was elated and terrified at the same time. Here was this stunning, witty, intelligent, charming, talented man. He was interested in ME! He laughed appropriately at all my jokes, and when his lips were pressed against mine, I’d forget all about my HIV and any thing else that was on my mind.

He gave me the requisite tour, and poured some cocktails. I think I managed one sip of my drink and he got out half a sentence before we were literally ripping each other’s clothes off. He gently took my hand and led me to the bedroom. Knowing what was about to happen, I HAD to tell him. I had to “disclose” my health status.

Now mind you, we are both half naked in his bed, and I was longing to be with him. Before things could go further, I somewhat abruptly ruined the mood by having “the talk.” We did and it was wonderful – at least for a while. Until, that is, he started to pull a way

from me.

He told me that he was falling for me, but he was too afraid. Afraid he’d become attached to me and I would get sick, or worse the possibility that he could catch it as well. We parted as friends, but there was just too much emotion there and I haven’t heard from him in over a decade.

My therapist owes him a pretty sizeable debt of gratitude. I think my issues with this time period paid for his new BMW, but I can’t be sure. But, as ever, I digress.

After having been through all this, I began to wonder when the appropriate time was to tell someone I was interested in (and hopefully was interested in me) that I was carrying HIV. Waiting until you are in the bedroom getting ready to be together is definitely not the route to take.  Dinner never seemed to work well either. “Could you pass the salt, oh and by the way” – I tried that once or twice.

I had what I thought to be a good conversation about it with one man in particular. I still thought that even after he hadn’t returned from the bathroom after a few minutes. Turns out, he just left. But, at least he had the courtesy to pick up the check on his way out while I sat there oblivious.

After I sat there for a good half-hour, angry with my date for having abandoned me, I began to wonder how I would handle that kind of news from someone I had just recently met. Personally, I’ve found it best to just blurt it out when the conversation allows. Better to get it out of the way. If they don’t run for the hills, there are always possibilities. If they stick around, who knows?

The sad thing is, AIDS is a four-letter word. It’s the elephant in the room that no one wants to mention. The community, at least from what I have seen personally, seems to have slipped into a “Don’t ask, Don’t tell” mood.

My advice? For what it’s worth, if you are one of the many people in the community with HIV/AIDS … don’t hide it.  We’ve all come out of the closet once. Just think of this as the spare-room closet. It may have taken me 17 years to realize, but this is NOT something to be ashamed of.  Unfortunately, it is a part of who we are. Granted, it wasn’t a welcome addition. But when you just let it be the unspoken elephant, all you end up with is a lot of peanut shells.

Follow your dreams. Once in a while the universe smiles on you!