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The Office of AIDS By Walt Odets I believe our AIDS education for gay men had utility early in the epidemic. In 1998, however, this is not the case because
our comprehension of the problems has remained largely unchanged since those early years - while historical, social, and
psychological issues within gay male communities have converged to make the tasks of AIDS education almost completely new. I have now observed for several years the poor results - and
psychological damage - our current educational approaches are producing, as well as many of the reasons this is the case. Historically
the epidemic has now spanned more than a decade and it seems almost certain that it will be a lifelong event for most adult gay men. Thus we must now provide education about a permanent form of life
. Socially - and I am largely confining my remarks here to the "mainstream" gay male communities in the US, and especially those in larger urban centers - we have become habitués
to a form of life completely unimaginable ten years ago: a 50% overall infection rate, 10 to 40% infection rates among segments of the young gay community, and 70% rates among older groups. Such figures
translate humanly into a huge accumulation of loss, grief, and its attendant depression, isolation, discouragement, and guilt. And finally, in more specific psychological senses,
it has become apparent that AIDS itself, the epidemic, and the form of life the epidemic has created all have special, humanly destructive entanglements for gay men who are accustomed to
self-identification as members of despised, sexually identified communities that will be ostracized or punished for their behaviors. These
"special" entanglements, unfortunately, have not only gone largely unrecognized by prevention efforts, they
have been homophobically, if unintentionally, exploited. The result is a broad failure of prevention that we are, only now, beginning to acknowledge. Unfortunately, educator's widespread denial that this was happening - denial that spanned a half-decade of data to the
contrary - has been followed by a belated acknowledgment that demonstrates little insight about why it is happening. As
one example, an educator from San Francisco's STOP AIDS Project offered his solution to relapse in 1993: "I guess we're just going to have to scare the shit
out of gay men again," he announced to an astonished room of psychologists, physicians, and educators who were in the early planning stages of the now well-known "Dallas Prevention Summit" of 1994. Although
this educator's language was extreme, his conceptualization accurately characterizes prevention approaches that are
sustained to this day: informational instruction enhanced with the coercive powers of social marketing. In other words, most of us have still never seriously thought psychologically about why
a gay man might expose himself to HIV despite "knowing better," and we have certainly never thought about why a gay might be ambivalent about not having HIV. Today I would
like to talk about a single aspect of this problem: the role of homophobia - external and internal - in the rising trend of new infections, and in the education that is supposed to address this.
From the beginning of the epidemic our education has been laden with homophobic assumptions and has exploited the
"internal" homophobia of gay men in an attempt to accomplish behavioral change. For example, the condom made excellent
sense as an emergency measure in 1983. As a permanent, lifelong component of sexuality, however, it has proven as problematic for gay men as it has always been for all
men. The ideas that gay men would readily adapt to condoms, and ignore or fail to recognize their limitations - indeed, according to many educators, have fun with them - is rooted in
homophobia. Homophobia is at the root of feelings, often unconscious or unspoken, that gay sexuality is not "real" sexuality,
that it is not humanly important, and, not uncommonly, that it probably should not be going on anyway. Thus educators continue a decade into the epidemic to tell gay men that if they are going to have anal intercourse, the
least they can do is use a condom, and "If you don't like condoms, don't fuck." This would have been an absolutely unthinkable approach had
the epidemic first appeared among heterosexuals, and no one would have proposed it as anything but a short term emergency measure: we know - and accept - that vaginal sex is not dispensable for heterosexuals
. Homophobia not only suggests that gay sex is dispensable, it also posits safer sex as a way for gay men to make amends for their sex - amends that many gay men feel, if not believe, they should
be making. The condom, like "safe sex" in all its expressions, has provided gay men a means for having "good" sex, approved sex, sex that even (some) of the Federal government is
willing to tolerate if not really endorse. The condom, in particular, has become a way of making reparation for fundamentally bad sex, which in the minds of many means anal sex.
Among our most important and destructive expressions of erring on the safe side in 1998 is the idea that unprotected oral sex is dangerous, or dangerous enough that it ought to be routinely conducted with condoms. We are
alone in the Western World in this idea, and that is because there is no credible data to support it. The single study we have to suggest a
significant transmission potential for oral sex - the Michael Samuel study of 1993 - is riddled with methodological and conceptual flaws, is entirely unreplicated despite efforts to do so, is contradicted by all
other data, and should not have been published if for no other reason than that 67 percent of the studied cohort had dropped-out for unknown reasons only four
years into the six year study. Ladies and gentlemen, I submit that among the most basic requirements of science is the
requirement that you start over from scratch when two-thirds of your rats disappear for unknown reasons - and that you keep better track of your rats. The Samuel study has nevertheless, become the
backbone of US educational policy on oral sex. Although gay men will - for any number of humanly good reasons - not use condoms for oral sex, many now believe they should. And because they
are not, they often feel, for these additional reasons, that contracting HIV is inevitable, and that there is no point in trying to protect themselves from any
kind of sex. A study by DeVroome, of Holland, in fact, found that those men who had the most anxiety about oral sex were those most likely to practice unprotected anal sex. This "throwing in the towel" is a
characteristic result of education that creates an impossible task in the name of erring on the safe side. A psychotherapy patient expressed such feelings succinctly:
I know that it's self-destructive, but so far as I'm concerned, it's perfectly natural to want to suck a guy off, and if
that's all it takes [to contract HIV], I'm going to get it. I know I'm not going to stop that for the rest of my life.
And then I think to myself, "Oh hell, why should I give up all the other things that are important to me - I should do
what I want, live my life as long as I've got it, and get it over with." I can't see trying to hang around for a long life sucking on rubbers. I can't see how other guys do that. Do
they do that? I'm asking, because no one I know does. I guess we're all going down the tubes together.
The most significant "behavioral" change of such education is that men do not honestly talk about what they are doing - in other words, they go in the closet
about the kind of sex they are having. There, like closeted homosexuality itself, the practice of unprotected sex develops a secret life with immense destructive potential. The gay man practicing unprotected
sex today is in the closet about it - often, unknowingly, with a majority of his peers. Like the closeted homosexual he
experiences shame, guilt, and a fragmentation of his life; and he begins to form an identity around his feelings and behavior
that reinforces rather than inhibits the behavior. Even those who only occasionally practice unprotected sex often feel they
have crossed into forbidden territory from which there is no return and many do not even attempt to return. These men are entirely lost to our education.
New approaches to education will draw on our experience in the field of risk management, which has clarified that an
informed populace makes the best decisions and that the withholding or distortion of information almost always decreases
the quality of decision making. Most importantly in the human sense, new approaches to education will not homophobically dismiss the importance of gay sexual behaviors because there is any
risk involved in them, but will authentically affirm the human importance of sexual intimacy and the same right to sexual expression for gay men that is so - relatively - easily granted heterosexuals. Before I conclude, I would like to examine more fully the feelings of inevitability about contracting HIV that I referred to
earlier. I believe that the experience of inevitability about contracting HIV is a central issue that education must
constructively address - and must certainly not exacerbate. This experience expresses itself in depression, in a sense of hopelessness, in feeling out of control about one's life, in anxiety, in the belief that one actually
has HIV when this is not the case, in careless exposure to HIV, in the abandonment of any effort to protect oneself from HIV, and, on occasion, in the deliberate pursuit of HIV infection.
Feelings of inevitability are the product of many social and psychological forces. Some of these, fortunately, are not the
product of our education, and could be partially ameliorated if our education would not exacerbate them. As examples,
homophobia, hatred, and self-hatred suggest that if you are gay, you get HIV because that is the fate of gay men, or, more explicitly, that HIV is what gay men deserve
to get. For the gay twenty year old, the characteristic feeling that life beyond thirty is implausible, impossible, or undesirable is given credibility and reason by the idea that one will eventually contract
HIV. For the man who has suffered many losses - personally or in broad identification with gay communities - contracting
HIV is a way of sharing with those lost, and, often, of ameliorating guilt about survival. For those who have suffered losses
of very close friends or lovers, the idea that one has HIV expresses the familiar conviction of surviving partners that they too are dying. Feelings of inevitability, unfortunately, are also severely exacerbated by much of our current AIDS education. This is
accomplished partly by the implicit homophobia of much education, which I have discussed. But it also accomplished by the
intentional reinforcement of identification between positive and negative men. To date our education has largely expressed the political
idea that all gay men are "equal" and AIDS education thus applies universally to all. At San Francisco's STOP AIDS Project, as in most agencies, the obvious idea that AIDS prevention is for
HIV-negative men - those who do not presently have HIV - is a controversial, politically inflammatory idea. Their confused retort is that AIDS education is for the gay community
, because positive men are part of the solution, and that services or education specifically for HIV-negative
men would be "divisive." A recent Reuters wire story carried the following headline about a new prevention campaign at
Gay Men's Health Crisis, a campaign that I helped develop: "Nation's Oldest and Largest AIDS Agency Launches First
Prevention Campaign for HIV-Negative Men." One must wonder about what kind of "prevention" preceded this campaign. It is little surprise that educators, confused about whose
outcome education must change (regardless of who is involved in the solutions), are producing equivocal, unclear, and misleading education. Our traditional forms of education have played
an important role in creating common feelings that contracting HIV is inevitable, because they have failed to distinguish the
different concerns and problems of positive and negative men, and have encouraged the identification of negative men with positive men.
In truth, there are important differences in the thoughts, feelings, and goals of negative and positive men, and it is usually
positive men who most easily acknowledge this. If our education blurs or obscures these differences we should not be
surprised that many HIV-negative men develop feelings of inevitability about contracting HIV and no longer see real purpose
in trying to avoid it. In a 1994 primary prevention campaign, the San Francisco AIDS Foundation told the reader: "Gotta Believe
. Single Gay Man outliving the forecasts of doom. HERE WE ARE still pushing ahead. Positive or negative, we thought safe sex was just about surviving. There's more. . . [ellipse in original]." What does this mean? That the Single Gay Man, positive or negative, is one in the same? That positive and negative men
are pushing ahead for the same things? That protected sex or survival mean the same for both? That the "more" in the
futures of gay men is the same regardless of antibody status? These implications deny obvious truths, and they inappropriately entangle HIV-positive and negative men in common values and goals where those values and goals
are and should be different. What recommendations for regular-interval testing do
accomplish is keeping the HIV-negative man entangled in irrational fears of seroconversion because, by implication, he is being told that he should continue to test because he might have contracted HIV,
regardless of his behaviors. The backside of the implication is that eventually he will convert, because
one repeats a test until the results are "satisfactory" and the subject "passes." As a physician recently told a psychotherapy
patient of mine: "If you're negative, don't worry. Come back in six months and we'll test again." Regular-interval testing
keeps HIV-negative men engaged in HIV-related medical services, by no coincidence, on the same six month interval that
asymptomatic positive men are often advised to follow for blood counts, and supports the feeling that seroconversion is an inevitability. New approaches to education must inform men honestly about the sometimes
useful purposes - and limitations - of HIV testing and permit them to make decisions that reflect the realities of their lives and their values.
Education mandating protected sex that does not acknowledge the facts of individual lives is another source of feelings of
inevitability. The ability to have ordinary (unprotected) sex with another HIV-negative man is one of the benefits of being
negative (and perhaps of any sero-concordant relationship). When we tell men that the rule is "a condom every time"
regardless of circumstances, we deprive HIV-negative men of one of the most immediate and powerful incentives to remain
negative. We also create unconscious feelings that contracting HIV is inevitable. "If neither of us really has HIV, why are
we using condoms?" a psychotherapy patient asked me. "Is it because I might really have HIV? Or Steven might?" Many
men express such feelings, as well as the related feeling that every time they put on a condom the act makes them feel they must
have HIV and are trying to protect their partner from it - why else are they putting on a condom? We have "double-bound" men into such confusions with a remarkable show of bad psychology.
Get tested and believe your results. (But if your test is negative, don't believe your results: use a condom anyway).
Safe sex affirms your pride in being gay and loving gay men protect their partners (but from what?) Don't trust
your "monogamous" partner (gay men lie and cheat). Feel good about sex: It's natural and it's your right. (But don't
floss your teeth before sex and get tested again in six months to see if you've finally gotten yourself into trouble).
I realize that even with the few specific issues discussed here I have placed expectations on AIDS education that go far beyond simple instructive approaches to reducing HIV transmission. But why should AIDS
prevention be saddled with the responsibilities of excising homophobia from education, pursuing honesty, acknowledging realities, and validating complex
feelings that are not directly connected to reducing HIV transmission? Is such work the responsibility of AIDS education? Am I not suggesting that AIDS education do the work of others, perhaps psychotherapists? The first answer to these questions is that education has a responsibility to not do psychological harm and it has failed in this
. In its denial and obfuscation of facts and feelings alike, AIDS education is now responsible for a considerable amount
of psychological damage to gay men. Along with the epidemic itself and its attendant experience of loss, depression, and
anxiety, AIDS education taken on the whole is now a major psychological liability for gay men. Like all destructive feelings
arising out of the epidemic, some of those nurtured by our education are now responsible for a considerable amount of HIV
transmission. To the extent that education is compounding the psychological damage wrought directly by the epidemic itself, it must stop for human reasons as well as for the effort to reduce HIV transmission.
Finally, AIDS education must reevaluate its fundamental purposes. In a lifetime event of this destructiveness, we are not
addressing the human needs of the gay community by offering - or insisting upon - biological survival as an exclusive and
adequate purpose for human life. Lives must be worth living, and the epidemic itself has only complicated this perpetually difficult effort. Survival
must include the idea of meaningful, human survival for a community that has traditionally been scorned or punished for the way it makes love, communicates intimacy, and creates human bonds. New approaches to
education must take as their primary task such human purposes. The reduction of HIV transmission can only be the secondary
task because it must be built on the foundation of lives experienced as worth the trouble. 1998 demands an extensive reconstruction of what we now call AIDS education. This is because we do - or ought to -
understand more than we did in 1984; because the epidemic is not an aberration in our lives, but a permanent form of life;
and because those who have lived through the epidemic are understandably no longer who they were before it started.
What we have traditionally called public health may be a vehicle, but cannot be the whole content of new approaches.
Public health experts and social marketing specialists who now direct our educational efforts must begin to understand and
include the facts of human experience. An educator, explaining the necessarily directive nature of AIDS prevention, once said to me, "If you want someone to buy a Chevrolet, you don't tell him he might
want a Chevrolet." My answer was that for a man living in a lifelong epidemic in which intimacy might become assault and love death, we had no Chevrolets, we had
only contemplation itself: the internal space for each man to think and feel and thus make for himself the best possible
decisions that he might. We cannot tell people how to act in the epidemic any more than we can tell them how to feel about
it. It has not worked and will not in the future, and if we are concerned with the quality of gay life in America, rather than merely the quantity, that sort of instruction is something we should not even be trying. TOP OF PAGE |
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