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Jako,
1995.Jako
August 22, 1995
I wanted to meet another young person who was HIV positive. I went to every support group possible, I went to the AIDS project in Portland, Oregon. I talked to people, "do you know anybody that is HIV positive?" I knew I needed peer support but it didn't exist then. There was one support group that started right around the time that I got infected for young gay men and it had guys between ages 23 and 30. Then I was 19 and I thought 23 was old. Not old but I couldn't relate to these guys for some reason. They all just seemed so collected. After about four or five months I found this guy that worked at the local AIDS organization; he was 24 and had a really positive outlook. He was getting homeopathic care, acupuncture and taking herbs instead of the AZT that my doctor was trying to force on me. He seemed really happy. He was gorgeous, totally vivacious, and full of life. I think I chose him as a role model and knew that would help me.
I decided I wanted to do public speaking. They were like, "no, you've only known for four months, you can't do this." I was like, no, it's enough time I can do this. The local news picked up on me, the newspaper, everything. I was the 19-year-old HIV poster girl for Oregon for a long time. I said no to all the talk shows. I'm so happy for that now. I thought about it when the Montel Williams show wanted to bring my mother and I out to New York. Somebody told me it was a good show and I thought maybe I'll do it, but I'm really glad I didn't. I think that really would have compromised myself. You lay yourself open to so much, from what I've seen on shows since then. It's amazing what you get blamed for and the kinds of things people shoot out at you from the audience.
I got to a point where I could be comfortable with it publicly but I had this idea that HIV showed on the outside of my body, even though it didn't. I would see some pretty girl walking down the sidewalk and think, wow, she's alive, she's got everything going for her. She doesn't have this in her. She's not going to die soon. I felt dirty, and virulent. I didn't want to see my infectious blood anywhere. I felt like if I touched a little kid I was dangerous. I felt vile. I probably felt a little bit like a rape victim does, like you want to wash something off of you, but you can't and you never will be able to again. It's never going to go away. Perspectives I've read from rape survivors often say something like that, like they feel like they want to scrub the whole experience away, but it doesn't go away. The physical remainders of it go away, but not the idea of that person's touch. In a way, having HIV inside your body is like a perpetual rape. You don't want it there and it's fucking you everyday.
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