The Day AIDS Got Personal With Me

It's hard for me to believe, but it's been 20 years since AIDS got personal with me. Like for so many others around the world, this was a signal that the disease was "real." On a hot summer day in 1985, I was playing tennis with my best friend, Ken, whom I had never beaten after 3 years of playing against him. But something about that day was different: I was winning! Though I didn't know it then, that was the day that AIDS got very personal with me.

I couldn't help but notice that something wasn't right with Ken, however. His eyes were as yellow as lemons. And he kept complaining about a pain in his side. Instead of celebrating my first-ever victory over him, I called Ken's mother, a nurse, who immediately took him to the hospital, where he was diagnosed with hepatitis B.

When he told me about the diagnosis, I immediately remembered a speaker I had heard at one of our classes; there was some sort of link between AIDS and hepatitis. Though I did not remember the exact details, I asked Ken if he thought he should be tested for HIV as well. He scoffed at the idea, screaming, "What, do you think I'm gay or something?"

It would be another 2 years before we came out to each other (running into each other at a gay bar helped that process). By then, Ken was living in Houston's Montrose area, and he had still not been tested for HIV. In almost every one of our conversations, I would attempt to interject the latest news I had read about HIV treatments, or of locations that offered free HIV testing, or the growing statistics of HIV cases among African Americans. When AIDS gets personal, you know it, and even without an official diagnosis, you just know it.

That began my AIDS activism: my desire to make sure people were at least aware of their status. This included my interest in being vocal about HIV/AIDS, and more importantly, my desire to make sure that people who looked like me were included in educational campaigns. Though we were gay men (and at that time, the majority of AIDS reports were among gay men), Ken was like many of my peers: educated about the disease in general, aware of the modes of transmission, and knowledgeable about the link between infection with HIV and other sexually transmitted diseases. Yet, he would not personally assess his risk. By not identifying the disease as something that could happen to him, he was convinced that he was not "one of those kinds of people."

Over the past 25 years, medical and scientific advances have revolutionized the treatment of HIV disease -- so much so that HIV/AIDS is often referred to as a "manageable" health condition. Activism has secured federal, state, and local resources to ensure that persons with HIV/AIDS have access to the necessary treatments. Community-based organizations have taken the lead in providing an array of services, from prevention to hospice.

There are some negative aspects of HIV/AIDS, from my perspective, that have persisted over the past quarter century of AIDS. First, there still isn't a cure! As good as the treatments have been for people living with HIV/AIDS, the fact remains that they are only treatments. We still haven't figured out how to purge the virus from anyone's body. And we have to be realistic; people still die from AIDS-related causes. We have to keep it real.

Second, we still have to struggle to keep AIDS on the radar screen. At the moment I write this essay, the Ryan White CARE Act has not yet been reauthorized, despite calls from the President and community activists to do so. Just this past year, funding for AIDS has had to compete with relief efforts for a tsunami, earthquakes, and hurricanes along the Gulf coast -- all of which captured the world's attention. At a time when federal resources are scarce, several billion dollars were recently earmarked for avian flu preparedness. We have to remain involved.

Lastly, and most disappointing of all, people are still being infected with HIV. The number of people infected each year in the US has been virtually unchanged. The number of new infections among teens is astounding. Many of these young adults today, like Ken 20 years before them, don't identify themselves as at risk. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) estimate that each year 40 thousand people contract HIV in the US, virtually unchanged over the past 2 decades. A few years ago, a State of Emergency was declared to address the unacceptable rates of HIV infection among African Americans in Houston, yet the data show very little change. We have to remain vigilant.

Over the past 25 years, AIDS has gotten personal with millions of people around the world and thousands in Houston. AIDS still affects us. We have to continue to serve those who need assistance. We have to continue to fight for resources. Even though we don't see the end of the epidemic today, we have to keep moving forward as though we will reach it tomorrow. To do anything less would make meaningless any of our successes to date.

Steven L. Walker is current Chair of the Houston/Harris County Ryan White Planning Council (rwpc.org). He is also President and CEO of the National Alliance for Black Gay Health (nafbgh.org).