Innocence is ignorance: a battle with HIV

Innocence is ignorance: a battle with HIV

By Randolph Meredyth Drake

"Innocence is ignorance," Kierkegaard said. Too often we mourn
the loss of innocence as an unfortunate yet necessary transition. I
submit that this passage can be one of deliberate beauty.

I was innocent once.

For some time I did not quite understand the phrase "coming
out." I have been comfortable with my gayness (more so at some
times than others) and could not point to a specific day or year as
my personal or public declaration. I was baffled by those who
could, but tried to respect the growth of their experience.

However, the importance of opening a closet door has now come
crashing down on me like accusations of human rights violations in
the Pete Wilson camp.

I am going to ask you to lose your innocence along with me now.
For many of us, this process has already begun. If you have looked
beyond the ethnic, gender or religious stereotypes that our culture
proliferates and our insecurity reiterates, you have begun to lose
your innocence. I would ask you to suspend all sociological bias
one step further as I reveal to you how HIV has impacted my
life.

I had good reason to believe my test results might come back
positive. Still, nothing can prepare you for that life-altering
moment when your mortality is realized; when colors are a little
brighter; when terror shakes every fiber of your being.

I believed I was going to die.

Certainly, I had the media to support my belief. They
occasionally broadcast the AIDS-related death of a celebrity with a
sorrowful, "Hollywood is mourning the loss of …" Undeniably, I
had some friends to support my belief. Remember, "Be safe. (Sex) is
not worth dying over."

And the entertainment industry would surely not deceive me. If
Tom Hanks (America’s most popular personality) can die in
"Philadelphia," then this, too, must be my fate. Who was I to
question the integrity of a culture that has so responsibly and
shamelessly handled the murder of two people and a fallen football
hero?

I’ll tell you who. I am a gay black man with Jewish blood who,
when it comes to adversity, 1) I’ve had to avoid calls from Oprah
begging me to be on the show and 2) As Bernadette (a.k.a. Frank)
from Priscilla: Queen of the Desert said, "Don’t let (adversity)
drag you down, but let it make you stronger."

So began my education and the loss of innocence which led me to
the realization that HIV is not necessarily tantamount to
death.

I entered the HIV/AIDS community with 12 years of grim baggage.
I had volunteered with some organizations but kept a safe emotional
distance. Imagine my surprise when I met many men and women who
were not dying from the virus but living with it.

Upon meeting these obvious exceptions to the rule I cursed them,
"How dare you be in your ninth, 10th, 12th year of infection and
still be healthy? Didn’t you see And the Band Played On?" I
implored them to get into wheelchairs and hospices and coffins.

They did not listen to me. Rather, they listened to themselves
and each other. I discovered that, along with traditional
treatment, many elected to use spiritual enlightenment, natural
resources or some other form of nontraditional therapy as combative
forces. And I discovered that for many, HIV infection is slowly
becoming a manageable condition.

Make no mistake, I do not minimize the AIDS epidemic. Last year
when I visited the AIDS Quilt, the awesome reality of the hundreds
of thousands who have passed on left me solemn for some time.

Unquestionably, people will continue to contract the virus,
develop AIDS and die. I want their stories told. More importantly,
I want our stories told.

But ask yourself which makes the film at 11 ­ Magic Johnson
maintaining his quality health or Magic Johnson in the hospital
suffering from pneumonia? It is the former question I draw your
attention to.

I’ve observed that, to some extent, many who get sick are
convinced that there is nothing they can do. They resolve
themselves to death with a "live it up now because I’ll be dead
soon" or "poor me" attitude. Admittedly, both points of contention
frustrate me because many of us who are fighting are
succeeding.

I am taking an aggressive approach to my disease and have no
intention of letting it control my life. I am in control of my life
and if HIV wants me it’s going to have to come and get me.

But be warned … this fag bashes back. For every T-cell my
virus would destroy I add another nickel to my bench press. Since I
started training, my body weight and muscle has gone from 190 lbs.
to 225 lbs. For every CD4 percentage point that would drop, I
recommitted myself to my anti-viral therapy which I would do as
part of a study here at school.

And every hour of worry I encountered I spent in front of a
Macintosh writing. I just finished a play which I look forward to
getting produced next quarter.

Like Jews and the Holocaust and blacks and slavery, this disease
is likely to be the cross the gay community will forever bear. As
Spielberg and Halley established in their respective films, history
will judge humanity not by the diversity of our atrocities, but
rather by our capacity to transcend malevolence and reach a higher
plane of awareness.

Be aware that HIV has not stopped me from pursuing an education.
Be aware that HIV did not stop me from running two touchdowns last
week. Be aware that HIV will not stop me from going on a nationwide
young comedian tour next month where I hope to use my stand-up to
spread a more auspicious message regarding this disease. Just be
aware.

Why "come out" with this?

My best friend recently tested positive and lost his mother
within a three day period. (We’re waiting for the locust.) His
innocence has led him into a chasm of despair where life is not an
option. His transition is far more important than my proclivity for
privacy. I would not make such a public declaration unless I was
absolutely convinced that there need not be fear, that anyone can
dramatically improve the quality of life.

And as my co-worker and ROTC sergeant Leland Kim so courageously
demonstrated during National Coming Out Week two weeks ago, a
little education is worth a few personal risks. If this letter
encourages one person to get tested or stops another from putting a
bullet in his or her head or helps to change the stigma associated
with HIV, I offer this as proof that ignorance is not bliss.

Kierkegaard’s statement suggests the claim of innocence amounts
to an insistence on ignorance, a refusal to know. The anecdotal
evidence is in our classes, our residence halls and our homes.

Refusal to look breeds complacency and silence that equals an
uproarious condemnation of death. Rage against the machine and
challenge the mediocrity that would enslave you. And if it is
within you … come out.

Drake graduated with a bachelor’s degree in theater in June.