Urban Thought Collective

In observance of World AIDS Day, Urban Thought Collective brings you a week of a thought provoking series of excerpts from Gil Robertson’s best-selling collection of essays, “Not in My Family: AIDS in the African American Community.”

GENERATIONS: BY REGINA R. ROBERTSON
My mother always says that you can determine a person’s age by simply asking them where they were on the day that John F. Kennedy was assassinated. I was yet to be born at that tumultuous time, and the barometer by which I determine the age of those in my peer group is a sobering representation of the sign of our times.

The year was 1991. Just days before my 22nd birthday, I had just walked into my dorm room when my friend Brett called with the news of Magic Johnson’s HIV-positive status and subsequent retirement from the NBA. I thought it was all a bad joke until I turned to Channel 4 and saw the basketball legend standing at a podium. Damn. If Magic could get caught out there, weren’t we all susceptible?

Where were you that afternoon? And what were you thinking?

Okay, I’ll ’fess up — I’m a 34-year-old woman of color, and I’m single. I should also admit that while I’m a bit nervous about the ongoing search for my soul mate, the idea of enjoying a monogamous marriage, complete with unprotected, mind-blowing sex, is becoming more and more of a distant fantasy. I have not fully subscribed to that tired diatribe that there are no good men out here, but I am worried about the past and present lives, sexually speaking, of the men who are swimming in my dating pool. To put it bluntly, I’m not sure if I will ever feel fully confident and secure enjoying sex without the benefit of a thin protective barrier of latex. I know that it’s uncommon for a husband to wear a condom when making love to his wife, but I often wonder if I can completely trust another human being with my health, well-being, and for all intents and purposes, my life. After all, who would have imagined that you could lose your life over some good ol’ fashioned loving?

Can I be straight up? Men stray. Some openly discuss their philandering, many rhyme about infidelity on radio dials and video stations, and others expect their better halves to be cool with their choice to indulge in the pleasures of extra-curricular activity — as long as it’s not up in her face, of course. But in the world we live in today, what you don’t know can indeed hurt you, if not kill you. Yes, I would love to be in a relationship right now, but I’m a bit blindsided by the fact that I could be putting myself at risk if my partner dishonors our commitment, even once. If my man falls into the arms of another woman, or even a fellow brother — don’t sleep — can I really depend on him to wear a condom? One never knows. Quite honestly, I haven’t met anyone that I trust enough to put to that test.

In all fairness, I would be remiss if I solely pointed a finger at the brothers. I have a number of single girlfriends who have admitted to feeling a bit shaken up after a careless liaison with someone who was hardly deserving of their time nor worthy of the privilege of sharing body fluids. Should I dare mention the sisters who accept cheating and otherwise-engaged partners into the walls of our bedrooms and our bodies? While I don’t mean to pass judgment on how any adult chooses to live or love, I do question the allure of partaking in sexual “Russian roulette.” The idea of respecting one’s body as a temple has a whole new spin in these times, but there are so many of us who do not conduct ourselves accordingly.

Aside from my own trials and realities, I find myself even more concerned about the fate of my younger brothers and sisters. While popular opinion suggests that today’s parents are in dire need of a refresher course in child rearing, the fact remains that our youth are continuously bombarded with overtly sexual media and entertainment that is devoid of any shred of responsibility. I recall tuning in to 106 & Park’s World AIDS Day Special, which aired on BET on December 2, 2002. Along with positive, personal testimonies from the likes of Jill Scott and Ashanti, they played Salt-N-Pepa’s video, “Let’s Talk About AIDS,” so I assumed, naively, that this special program was intended to shed light on the imminent dangers of unprotected sex, thus arming young viewers with education and alternatives. Ironically, between celebrity segments and PSAs, the programmers thought it appropriate to infuse the show with its usual dose of sexually-explicit, ass-shaking, pimped-out video clips. Not only did the Top 10-video countdown nullify the message of World AIDS Day, but worse yet, it made it clear that things were back to business as usual. All I could think was, “Are they for real?”

Back in the day, I remember being scared by the mere thought of contracting some itchy STD or getting pregnant, God forbid. Swallowing a prescribed antibiotic or having a baby — or not — is mere child’s play when you consider the consequences that the next generation is faced with regarding their sexual health. We now live in a society where young men and women do not have the luxury to make the mistake of having unprotected sex. While I don’t have any biological children to call my own yet, I feel a great sense of empathy for the teenagers who are left to make some sort of sense from society’s bag of mixed messages. We have to do better by them, as they run the risk of being unprepared to endure the aftermath of our irresponsibility.

AIDS kills, period, yet the severity of that message continues to fall upon deaf ears. Statistics, billboards and pamphlets notwithstanding, only we can be held accountable for our own actions. While no one truly knows how the next man or woman may get down behind closed doors, the best thing we can do, individually, is protect ourselves. I’m all for folks doing their thing, but not at this high a price.

So now, when I pray to God to send me that special someone, I also make a point to ask him to help us learn to be more cautious about protecting ourselves and the lives and futures of our children. Imagine the alternative.

~Regina R. Robertson

Essay taken from Gil L. Robertson IV’s 2006 bestselling anthology “Not in My Family: AIDS in the African American Community”. Mr. Robertson next book, Family Affair: What it Means to BE African American” will arrive in stores March 2008. For more information, please visit: www.robertsontreatment.com.