When I gave up sleeping with men, I thought I'd also given up the need to worry about contracting HIV.
Wrong, Einstein.
I now have a story to tell about lesbians and HIV in the modern age. This story has drama, comedy, and way too much mystery.
It's a lesbian tale, so it begins with a woman. Grace lives far from me, in the middle of the country. She's a cool patch of blue in a fiery red state. We got to know each other through e-mails and phone calls. Soon we reached that point in a budding relationship where you confess “it,“ that secret of yours that you're certain will make her abandon you like the Titanic.
She told me through tears that she's been HIV-positive since the '80s. Like me, Grace had come out late, and a former boyfriend of hers, long dead, had been bisexual. Her health was good, considering, but she didn't want to take the chance of infecting me, so she couldn't allow us to go forward.
She meant it. This was no sympathy ploy. But after thinking it over, I called her the next day and told her something that I meant: We encounter only so many potential matches in a life, and this relationship was worth pursuing.
I was so earnest I suspect that conversation counts as both drama and comedy.
Anyway, before long she booked a flight out here to the coast, and I booked an appointment at Planned Parenthood.
I'd read in the gay press that woman-to-woman transmission of HIV is rare. I wanted to learn how to keep it that way. Was there anything besides dental dams and rubber gloves I should know about?
After I posed my questions to the straight nurse practitioner at Planned Parenthood, she admitted being embarrassed. Not because we were talking about sex between women, but because she had nothing to tell me! She knew no more than I did. And she won't until society decides lesbian health is at least as worthy of study as the physiology of aphids.
So I tried to be responsible, but discovered the medical establishment can't say the same. Sex between women when one of them is HIV positive is clouded in mystery. If the American Medical Association can't or won't solve this mystery, we'll have to put Jessica Fletcher and Miss Marple on the case.
I can report what gay men already know, that when you're in the throes of passion, you're none too inclined to hit the pause button so you can apply some latex. I can also report that keeping a dental dam in place can be a, um, slippery business. Altogether, between the dams and the gloves, I did feel like I was having a threesome with Grace and a box of Saran Wrap.
I presume I would've adjusted to that in time, as well as become more creative, because being with her meant being with HIV. But Grace and I ultimately decided we made better friends than lovers.
Since we'd been as careful as we knew how to be, and since transmission between women is a feat, I wasn't too scared I'd picked up the virus. Add in also the fact that I like having blood drawn as much as I like changing a tire with my teeth, and it's no surprise that I put off getting tested.
Recently I did the deed. In an ironic final twist, the clinic messed up and I had to do a second blood test, which the phlebotomist won't soon forget.
I was negative. I called Grace. This Thanksgiving we both had something to be thankful for.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Monday, November 20, 2006
Who's Recruiting Whom?
The city of Dallas has been outed.
Thanks to an Associated Press story, people around the country now know that the Dallas Convention and Visitors Bureau is trying to lure gay tourists.
That's right—we're being recruited.
It seems that Dallas tourism officials launched a promotion two years ago to lasso some of those gay tourist dollars. I'd guess they saw other cities doing the same, and were inspired.
But Dallas? Home of big hair and big prejudices? Has something been slipped into the Dr. Pepper supply?
“It's not about being politically correct, it's about being economically correct,“ said Phillip Jones, president of the tourism bureau.
Aha. It's about big dollars for Big D. Those big bucks trump the big hurt this promotion puts on the area's big anti-gay churches.
But let's also allow for the possibility that the mood in Dallas has actually changed. That's the claim on the Web site the tourism bureau put up this year.
Under the headlines “Our Secret is Out“ and “Dallas Smashes All the Stereotypes In a Big Way!“ the site asserts, “Dallas shoulders a diverse and welcoming atmosphere that seamlessly mixes business, pride and play unlike any place on earth.“
The site also declares that Dallas “has left behind stereotypes of big-haired women and rowdy cowboys—that is, unless you count sassy drag queens and strapping gay rodeo champs.“
The first time I read that my jaw hit the floor and my eyeballs followed.
This is not Jock Ewing's Dallas. On a more contemporary note, it surely wasn't a speechwriter for George Bush who crafted those words.
Jones, the bureau's president, said gay travelers cough up an average of $100 more per day than other tourists, and embark on four to six trips a year. This raises two points. The first is, I sure wasn't part of that study.
The second is, it's easy to understand Jones's sentiment that, “We'd be foolish not to position Dallas as a destination for this market, which spends a lot of money on travel.“
Cathie Adams, leader of the Dallas-based Texas Eagle Forum, has a different take on commerce. “To promote same-sex activities that would be offensive to the majority of families is not profitable, economically or socially,“ she told the AP. “If you are wanting families to move into the city of Dallas, are you going to show them such a promotion? I doubt it.“
I doubt she grasps that quite a number of families—especially those with gay members--would be pleased to see the city courting us. And there's that little matter of the families we head up, but maybe she can't bear to think of those poor kids surrounded by debauchery 24/7.
Interestingly, the tourism bureau's biggest GLBT coup so far was the Family Pride Coalition's national conference in October. The bureau made a presentation in the D.C. office of the gay family advocacy group, and it must've been a doozy, as Family Pride chose Dallas over Minneapolis and Chicago.
Mind you, at first some members were skittish about convening in Texas, where not long ago a same-sex marriage ban passed with jalapeno-like robustness.
Jennifer Chrisler, executive director of Family Pride, captured the old and new Dallas when she said, “There's a very large and vibrant gay parenting community in Dallas . . . coupled with the fact that Texas is a place where there is still a lot of work to be done to educate people about gays and lesbians.“
She said, “It really made Dallas the right choice at the right time.“
So if you're a GLBT traveler interested in checking out a storied city—and the gap between perception and reality—the Dallas tourism bureau wants you!
Thanks to an Associated Press story, people around the country now know that the Dallas Convention and Visitors Bureau is trying to lure gay tourists.
That's right—we're being recruited.
It seems that Dallas tourism officials launched a promotion two years ago to lasso some of those gay tourist dollars. I'd guess they saw other cities doing the same, and were inspired.
But Dallas? Home of big hair and big prejudices? Has something been slipped into the Dr. Pepper supply?
“It's not about being politically correct, it's about being economically correct,“ said Phillip Jones, president of the tourism bureau.
Aha. It's about big dollars for Big D. Those big bucks trump the big hurt this promotion puts on the area's big anti-gay churches.
But let's also allow for the possibility that the mood in Dallas has actually changed. That's the claim on the Web site the tourism bureau put up this year.
Under the headlines “Our Secret is Out“ and “Dallas Smashes All the Stereotypes In a Big Way!“ the site asserts, “Dallas shoulders a diverse and welcoming atmosphere that seamlessly mixes business, pride and play unlike any place on earth.“
The site also declares that Dallas “has left behind stereotypes of big-haired women and rowdy cowboys—that is, unless you count sassy drag queens and strapping gay rodeo champs.“
The first time I read that my jaw hit the floor and my eyeballs followed.
This is not Jock Ewing's Dallas. On a more contemporary note, it surely wasn't a speechwriter for George Bush who crafted those words.
Jones, the bureau's president, said gay travelers cough up an average of $100 more per day than other tourists, and embark on four to six trips a year. This raises two points. The first is, I sure wasn't part of that study.
The second is, it's easy to understand Jones's sentiment that, “We'd be foolish not to position Dallas as a destination for this market, which spends a lot of money on travel.“
Cathie Adams, leader of the Dallas-based Texas Eagle Forum, has a different take on commerce. “To promote same-sex activities that would be offensive to the majority of families is not profitable, economically or socially,“ she told the AP. “If you are wanting families to move into the city of Dallas, are you going to show them such a promotion? I doubt it.“
I doubt she grasps that quite a number of families—especially those with gay members--would be pleased to see the city courting us. And there's that little matter of the families we head up, but maybe she can't bear to think of those poor kids surrounded by debauchery 24/7.
Interestingly, the tourism bureau's biggest GLBT coup so far was the Family Pride Coalition's national conference in October. The bureau made a presentation in the D.C. office of the gay family advocacy group, and it must've been a doozy, as Family Pride chose Dallas over Minneapolis and Chicago.
Mind you, at first some members were skittish about convening in Texas, where not long ago a same-sex marriage ban passed with jalapeno-like robustness.
Jennifer Chrisler, executive director of Family Pride, captured the old and new Dallas when she said, “There's a very large and vibrant gay parenting community in Dallas . . . coupled with the fact that Texas is a place where there is still a lot of work to be done to educate people about gays and lesbians.“
She said, “It really made Dallas the right choice at the right time.“
So if you're a GLBT traveler interested in checking out a storied city—and the gap between perception and reality—the Dallas tourism bureau wants you!
Monday, November 13, 2006
The Ban Bandwagon
Let's banter about bans, shall we?
We just endured the latest round of them, as voters in eight states decided whether to chisel disapproval of us into their constitutions. Two years ago approximately 67 states passed same-sex marriage bans. Would we be kicked to the curb again in 2006?
No. The door may've slammed on our fannies, but we didn't get as far as the curb this time around.
On Election Day, seven of those eight states passed constitutional bans. Arizona did not. It's the first time in go-rounds in 28 states that voters have said no.
Now, I don't want to make too much of this single victory.
The hell I don't. Yahoo! Hurray! Do you hear that muffling noise? That's the sound of a relentless drumbeat of loss being silenced. Sit back and enjoy the quiet.
Oh, I know, observers say Arizona's proposed ban was so harsh it doomed itself. But in 2004 Ohio's ban was over-the-top—any gay who looked at another would have his eyes put out--and it passed.
So the question is, was the Arizona result an aberration or a harbinger? Likewise, should we be giddy that in most of the other states the races were much closer than in the past?
For social conservatives bent on preventing gay marriage, will the election of '06 prove to have been just a hiccup, or the moment their viral pneumonia began?
The day after the election I received an e-mail from Amber, a reader who hails from one of the seven states with newly fashioned constitutions. Her note was a poignant reminder of what life is like in a state where the passage of the ban was as easy to predict as the demise of Britney Spears' marriage.
“Not that I'm surprised,“ Amber wrote, “but South Carolina passed a ban on gay marriage yesterday. This ban is on top of a law against same-sex marriages. So now an entire group of people are both outlawed and banned.“
Yes, you know you're truly special when one law against you isn't sufficient.
Amber continued, “What did manage to find its way through my ever-thickening exterior, however, is the fact that nearly four out of five voters supported the ban. When you hear a statistic like that, you find yourself looking at all the four out of five people around you in an entirely different light. I was driving home in my little Toyota Corolla today, and I suddenly felt very alone and isolated.“
When the political is personal, it can also be terribly painful.
She managed to close on an up note: “Thank goodness for the sweet escape from reality my latest bookstore acquisition provides.“ Of course I had to ask what her literary escape was. Travel? Science fiction? An Archie comic book?
Much better. She's reading a lesbian mystery called "Idaho Code," which she said has “just the right amount of romance in it.“ Way to go, Amber. When your neighbors have shot down gayness, an entirely fitting response is to revel in something resoundingly lesbian.
Funny that Amber's literary escape takes place in Idaho, one of the other states that robustly passed the same-sex marriage ban on Election Day. Perhaps a baby dyke in Boise is escaping her state by reading about lusty lesbians in Charleston.
In a later e-mail Amber wrote, “In word and deed, I can still have a marriage, even if it isn't recognized by my country. We lost a political battle, but that always tells me that we simply have more one-on-one work to do.“
Wow. She escapes for a few pages and returns rejuvenated. That lesbian sex is strong stuff.
We just endured the latest round of them, as voters in eight states decided whether to chisel disapproval of us into their constitutions. Two years ago approximately 67 states passed same-sex marriage bans. Would we be kicked to the curb again in 2006?
No. The door may've slammed on our fannies, but we didn't get as far as the curb this time around.
On Election Day, seven of those eight states passed constitutional bans. Arizona did not. It's the first time in go-rounds in 28 states that voters have said no.
Now, I don't want to make too much of this single victory.
The hell I don't. Yahoo! Hurray! Do you hear that muffling noise? That's the sound of a relentless drumbeat of loss being silenced. Sit back and enjoy the quiet.
Oh, I know, observers say Arizona's proposed ban was so harsh it doomed itself. But in 2004 Ohio's ban was over-the-top—any gay who looked at another would have his eyes put out--and it passed.
So the question is, was the Arizona result an aberration or a harbinger? Likewise, should we be giddy that in most of the other states the races were much closer than in the past?
For social conservatives bent on preventing gay marriage, will the election of '06 prove to have been just a hiccup, or the moment their viral pneumonia began?
The day after the election I received an e-mail from Amber, a reader who hails from one of the seven states with newly fashioned constitutions. Her note was a poignant reminder of what life is like in a state where the passage of the ban was as easy to predict as the demise of Britney Spears' marriage.
“Not that I'm surprised,“ Amber wrote, “but South Carolina passed a ban on gay marriage yesterday. This ban is on top of a law against same-sex marriages. So now an entire group of people are both outlawed and banned.“
Yes, you know you're truly special when one law against you isn't sufficient.
Amber continued, “What did manage to find its way through my ever-thickening exterior, however, is the fact that nearly four out of five voters supported the ban. When you hear a statistic like that, you find yourself looking at all the four out of five people around you in an entirely different light. I was driving home in my little Toyota Corolla today, and I suddenly felt very alone and isolated.“
When the political is personal, it can also be terribly painful.
She managed to close on an up note: “Thank goodness for the sweet escape from reality my latest bookstore acquisition provides.“ Of course I had to ask what her literary escape was. Travel? Science fiction? An Archie comic book?
Much better. She's reading a lesbian mystery called "Idaho Code," which she said has “just the right amount of romance in it.“ Way to go, Amber. When your neighbors have shot down gayness, an entirely fitting response is to revel in something resoundingly lesbian.
Funny that Amber's literary escape takes place in Idaho, one of the other states that robustly passed the same-sex marriage ban on Election Day. Perhaps a baby dyke in Boise is escaping her state by reading about lusty lesbians in Charleston.
In a later e-mail Amber wrote, “In word and deed, I can still have a marriage, even if it isn't recognized by my country. We lost a political battle, but that always tells me that we simply have more one-on-one work to do.“
Wow. She escapes for a few pages and returns rejuvenated. That lesbian sex is strong stuff.
Monday, November 6, 2006
God's Will Be Done
God sits on his throne. He absently drums his fingers, causing an earthquake in Malaysia.
His secretary, Neville, looks at him. “You appear distressed, sir.“
God shakes his head. “Neville, I'm afraid I screwed up when I made man.“
“But sir, you don't make mistakes. With the possible exception of Jello.“
God points earthward. “I look down there, and I see people running around without the sense I gave a goose. I'm depressed.“
Neville is concerned. “Might I suggest, sir, that you do something to cheer yourself up? Take a hot bath? Listen to some music? Create a solar system?“
There's no changing the subject with God. “I should've learned my lesson after Yugoslavia,“ he says. “Iron-fisted rule came to an end. The people were free. And what did they do with their freedom? Kill each other. Neighbor against neighbor. Ethnic hate, religious hate.“
“Humans have rather elevated hate into an art form, haven't they, sir?“ Neville flicks celestial dust off his steno pad.
“Now it's the same damn story with Iraq. Iron-fisted rule came to an end. And they're slaughtering each other. Mainly in my name!“ God groans, and a thunderstorm breaks out in Portugal.
“Sir, you mustn't blame yourself for human shortcomings!“
“Why not? I made those creatures, didn't I? Obviously my recipe needed more tweaking! They're half-baked!“
“I must respectfully protest, sir.“ Neville draws himself up. “You equipped people with everything they need. Intelligence and compassion. A sturdy planet. Prophets. If they can't get along with each other, it's their fault, not yours!“ Neville stamps his foot, causing nothing whatever to happen on earth.
God is amused. “Thanks for your loyalty, Neville. But I underestimated the capacity of humans to hate each other. Also, to hate themselves.“
“Oh, I just knew you were going to bring up that Haggard fellow.“
“Apparently I'm not the only omniscient one around here. Yes, Neville, that Haggard fellow. He certainly hates himself now. Always has, since he realized his loins point toward men.“
Neville sighs. “There does seem to be a never-ending supply of clergymen who preach against homosexuality and are themselves homosexual.“
“Yup,“ agrees God. “Some might think that's just me having my little joke, but I have nothing to do with it. These guys are filled with shame. They'll do anything to prove they're not gay.“
“Mr. Haggard assuredly played the role to the hilt, spawning a large family, supporting Colorado's anti-gay measure and leading that national evangelical association.“
“Yes, he was a busy boy. Amazing he found time to diddle the hooker. Ah, Neville, how time-consuming it is to be a great, raging hypocrite.“
“His hypocrisy isn't all that bothers you, is it, sir?“
“Bingo. It's the cause of their self-loathing that eats at me. These pastors are told as boys that if they're gay, I'll abandon them. They fight their nature so I'll love them. They preach the same baloney to their flocks. They persecute other gays. All that shame, all in my name! Hey, that rhymes.“
“You have a touch of the poet, sir, but I wouldn't quit your day job.“
“What I'd really like is all the hating to stop. If I can't have that, I'll settle for being removed from the equation. I'm sick of humans hating themselves or each other on my behalf. From now on they should just count me out. Neville, take a memo.“
His secretary, Neville, looks at him. “You appear distressed, sir.“
God shakes his head. “Neville, I'm afraid I screwed up when I made man.“
“But sir, you don't make mistakes. With the possible exception of Jello.“
God points earthward. “I look down there, and I see people running around without the sense I gave a goose. I'm depressed.“
Neville is concerned. “Might I suggest, sir, that you do something to cheer yourself up? Take a hot bath? Listen to some music? Create a solar system?“
There's no changing the subject with God. “I should've learned my lesson after Yugoslavia,“ he says. “Iron-fisted rule came to an end. The people were free. And what did they do with their freedom? Kill each other. Neighbor against neighbor. Ethnic hate, religious hate.“
“Humans have rather elevated hate into an art form, haven't they, sir?“ Neville flicks celestial dust off his steno pad.
“Now it's the same damn story with Iraq. Iron-fisted rule came to an end. And they're slaughtering each other. Mainly in my name!“ God groans, and a thunderstorm breaks out in Portugal.
“Sir, you mustn't blame yourself for human shortcomings!“
“Why not? I made those creatures, didn't I? Obviously my recipe needed more tweaking! They're half-baked!“
“I must respectfully protest, sir.“ Neville draws himself up. “You equipped people with everything they need. Intelligence and compassion. A sturdy planet. Prophets. If they can't get along with each other, it's their fault, not yours!“ Neville stamps his foot, causing nothing whatever to happen on earth.
God is amused. “Thanks for your loyalty, Neville. But I underestimated the capacity of humans to hate each other. Also, to hate themselves.“
“Oh, I just knew you were going to bring up that Haggard fellow.“
“Apparently I'm not the only omniscient one around here. Yes, Neville, that Haggard fellow. He certainly hates himself now. Always has, since he realized his loins point toward men.“
Neville sighs. “There does seem to be a never-ending supply of clergymen who preach against homosexuality and are themselves homosexual.“
“Yup,“ agrees God. “Some might think that's just me having my little joke, but I have nothing to do with it. These guys are filled with shame. They'll do anything to prove they're not gay.“
“Mr. Haggard assuredly played the role to the hilt, spawning a large family, supporting Colorado's anti-gay measure and leading that national evangelical association.“
“Yes, he was a busy boy. Amazing he found time to diddle the hooker. Ah, Neville, how time-consuming it is to be a great, raging hypocrite.“
“His hypocrisy isn't all that bothers you, is it, sir?“
“Bingo. It's the cause of their self-loathing that eats at me. These pastors are told as boys that if they're gay, I'll abandon them. They fight their nature so I'll love them. They preach the same baloney to their flocks. They persecute other gays. All that shame, all in my name! Hey, that rhymes.“
“You have a touch of the poet, sir, but I wouldn't quit your day job.“
“What I'd really like is all the hating to stop. If I can't have that, I'll settle for being removed from the equation. I'm sick of humans hating themselves or each other on my behalf. From now on they should just count me out. Neville, take a memo.“
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