Two separate things happened recently that got my mind going and my feelings, well, feeling. A friend told me a friend of hers was interested in meeting me, as in to date me. In general, I’m wary of friend-of-friend dating. The potential for being messy is real. What threw me for a loop this time was that she asked if I wanted her to disclose my HIV status to ease the pressure of that off me. A lot of things happened emotionally to me at the same time, like within 45 to 60 seconds.
I’ll be honest about all of them, even the ones that are a little negative, because they are all valid emotions. One, I was grateful for her asking my permission before telling my story. Even though I am open with my status it’s still my story to tell. Considered and rejected simultaneously was the thought that she was asking because she wanted to make sure I actually told him. I rejected that thought because that’s internal trauma and stigma thinking, not the healed version of me. She’s a dope human being and genuinely wanted to help. The onus to share status and initiate the conversation is always on the person living with HIV and the attitude and judgement that some people have about that is frustrating. There are women I know who have had their status blasted on social media or in their friend circles and that is an unquantifiable harm and disrespect.
The other thought I considered (and rejected) was letting her tell him. Disclosure really is a pain in the neck. But, again, my status, my story. In the end, I let her introduce us. I haven’t yet decided if he needs to know my story, because frankly, not everyone does. That fact that I and others living with HIV don’t feel an immediate need to disclose our status makes folks not living with HIV feel a way—outraged or shocked—because they think it’s the biggest, most important factor in our lives, and because they still operate from thinking that it’s a terrible death sentence. Personally, I want to have an idea of a person’s temperament, attitude and thought process before I feel rushed to share something so intimate. Besides, they may not even make it to date two, so why rush?
The other thing that happened was I watched the stage version of “The Normal Heart.” It’s a compelling, heartfelt look at AIDS, activism, love and loss. Of normalcy vs. the abnormal. It’s a stark look at the beginning of the epidemic, and an even harsher look at apathy and social stigma. This isn’t about the play, although I strongly suggest folks in the younger “generation” of living with HIV see it—but seeing it so soon on the heels of my girlfriend’s question about my disclosure and my subsequent feelings meant that certain things stood out for me, and I had to really sit with them.
When we target things like status or individual identity, we allow for a disregard of a person’s humanity, which makes it easy to ignore suffering.
I’ve talked a lot about normalizing HIV. I’ve written about it and spoken about it. In my advocacy, normalizing what’s seen as abnormal is a way to change the narrative and help us end stigma and consequently, the shame and fear of being tested, which can in turn help us end the epidemic. Ned Weeks’ character in the play strongly believed gay men needed to out themselves to be seen. Not only make people see them as they were, dying from AIDS, but see them as whole humans beyond acts of sex or as “sinners” (or as in his brother’s eyes as “sick”). I disagree with outing people, just like I disagree with people telling others’ stories, be it disclosure or identity. I did understand and agree with the idea of seeing people as whole. When we target things like status or individual identity, we allow for a disregard of a person’s humanity, which makes it easy to ignore suffering. I see these two things happening to me so closely as a reminder to be grateful for love and respect and how far we have come, and as a reminder of how far we yet have to go. Feeling seen feels a little like feeling love.
Be well. You matter.
Bridgette Picou, LVN, ACLPN, is a licensed vocational and certified AIDS Care Nurse in Palm Springs, California. She works for The Well Project-HIV and Women as their stakeholder liaison. Bridgette is a director at large for ANAC (the Association of Nurses in AIDS Care), and a sitting member of the board of directors for HIV & Aging Research Project-Palm Springs (HARP-PS). Bridgette’s goal is to remind people that there are lives being lived behind a three- or four-letter acronym.