Pickett Fences: It Ain’t
Rocket Science
by Jim Pickett
Isn’t it time we deep six
that phrase? Can it be any more overused and annoying at this
point? And while we’re at it, let’s deep six “deep six.” But
I am especially sick of hearing the “it ain’t rocket science”
refrain increasingly in reference to HIV prevention. I mean,
I include myself in that whining, strident chorus as well.
Ya know, “Why are we still getting infected? HIV is so easy
to prevent! It ain’t rocket science, ya know. You don’t have
to be a brain surgeon to figure out how to wear a condom.”
Blah blah blah. Waa waa waa.
The “brain surgeon” thing
too. Gotta go.
And we’re right, preventing
an HIV infection ain’t rocket science. Whatever that actually
is. Preventing HIV is harder. Infinitely harder.
Just knowing the mechanics
of safer sex, how to use lube and rubbers properly, what’s
high risk, what’s low risk—easy. We all get it. We all know.
I knew, c’mon, I knew. But let’s talk about the incredibly
complex emotional, psychosocial stew each one of us swims
in, with all our neuroses, our impulses, our needs for connection
in a stressful, difficult world—this is where a brain surgeon
can’t help us.
I tested positive in 1995,
well into the epidemic. I fucking knew better. I knew knew
knew til I was blue. I practiced safer sex, a lot of it, with
zillions of men, many positive, and stayed negative. And I
loved it. The sex drive has always been healthy here, and
very well fed like the Wisconsin farm folk I hail from. So
why the hell did I discontinue condom use with someone I became
involved with?
Because I suddenly forgot
that HIV existed? That I suddenly forgot what condoms were,
let alone how in the hell d’ya work these things? That I did
a hit of Ecstasy and consequently fried every single brain
cell that had learned and absorbed the horrors of AIDS and
what to do to avoid that nightmare?
No, I started “barebacking”
with a boyfriend, when the term still implied horses, because…hmmmmm…denial?
Was I thinking, “I made it this far, I’ll be okay?” Was I
lonely? Was I afraid if I said, “We shouldn’t have done that.
Condoms next time”—that there wouldn’t be a next time? Was
I ever so in love?
Was I complacent?
Did I adore how it felt,
skin on skin, skin in skin, how hot and slick and intensely
intimate, an amazing, erotic sensation I hadn’t experienced
for 10 long years? Did I quiet the voices so I could get to
that place again? And again? Did I scream his name? Did I
have an ongoing conversation in my head around the theme of
“Maybe I’m one of the lucky ones, who for whatever reason,
don’t get infected?” I have always enjoyed an enormous amount
of sex, after all, and in the first couple of years after
I came out, from 1984 to 1986, I didn’t use condoms that I
recall, and I got fucked a lot, which I do recall, so I must
have been exposed at some point. I must be special. Did I
think I was special?
Was I calming my fears by
saying to myself, “Well, he never comes in me, so it’s not
so bad?” Did part of me think I was doomed anyway, did part
of me want to get it over with so I wouldn’t have to stress
one more day? Did I feel alienated and disconnected? Did I
feel at odds with the community I was initially so thrilled
about joining, to fling into high-fiving, twirling around
the dance floor in total exuberant abandon, but left me more
times than not hurt, disrespected, devalued, dehumanized and
lonely?
So lonely? Was I tired? So
tired?
I was on the cusp. I was
barebacking before the cover stories. I was taking risks before
the advent of new medications gave us new hope, before magazine
advertising made being HIV positive a sexy, youthful lifestyle,
before people with AIDS were turned into an attractive marketing
demographic, before crystal became the scourge it has become,
before Viagra kept people fucking for days, while there was
still tons of social marketing around prevention, when I was
still seeing my friends, tricks, and amorres dying.
A rocket scientist or a brain
surgeon can’t help us address these sorts of issues. Preventing
HIV is much more than wearing a condom every time. It’s addressing
our full range of needs as human beings in an increasingly
commercial, crass, disjointed, disconnected, fearful society—human
beings, who at the end of the day, just want to be close to
somebody, to feel some human warmth, in some way, any way.
And we will throw all the education in the world out the window,
along with caution and experience, to get that. To connect.
We are human beings… who still have to contend with the deadly,
alienating and devaluing affects of homophobia, both internal
and external, racism and stigma.
We are human beings.
I took the risks I did in
a significantly less complicated world. How will we change
to appropriately, impactfully respond to the world we are
in right now? With formidable barriers like dwindling funding
and a hostile political climate that puts so much value on
idiocies like “abstinence only?” How will we fight complacency?
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