Dispatch from Mexico: A New, But Familiar, Place
Clinica Condesa is the only medical facility of its kind in Mexico City.
Douglas Hopper, NPR
Douglas Hopper, here. I'm blogging from the International AIDS Conference in Mexico City. I'll be bringing you more about what's taking place here - with 25,000 people from around the world, there's no shortage of things to mention.
Let me take a step back ...
Before the conference started, I went with a group of journalists to tour a Mexico City clinic that specializes in care for people living with HIV/AIDS. Unexpectedly, stepping into Clinica Condesa took me back to a place I'd nearly forgotten.
One of my mentors in life was a man named Chris Gonzales. He was an activist, a teacher, an agitator and also an exceptionally gifted fund raiser who used his passion to build one of the country's most successful LGBT youth groups, the Indianapolis Youth Group (IYG). I started attending meetings 1992. By that time, Chris had already raised enough money to buy a house for the group and at least five people were on the payroll -- a case worker, a nurse, a counselor and even a political organizer. It was an incredible space.
Every Thursday, roughly 50 of us young people would show up for the weekly meeting. The lucky ones were dropped off by our parents. But most of everyone else showed up with more than a little fear -- and exhaustion -- in their eyes. They'd come from every corner of Indiana, often having sneaked away from their homes, riding buses for hours to get there.
Looking back, I understand why. It wasn't the seemingly endless supply of free food, nor the huge selection of bubble gum and R&B music, which was typically blasting from the stereo hours before the meeting. We weren't coming to IYG to get something. We showed up to get away.
This is what Chris had in mind -- a space to escape the stigma, the harassment, the sharp judgment and hate most of us knew. It was also a place where AIDS wasn't a 'plague' that would -- at least in my mind -- lead me to my grave. (Though I never completely believed I would be spared, I at least was convinced that I should try). Chris created an oasis. It was a hideaway where we could breathe.
Visiting Clinica Condesa here in Mexico city, reminded me of what that was like.
After an impressive tour of the newly remodeled facility, we were led into a room where a group of patients joined us to share their stories. A gay man, who said we could refer to him as "Charlie," told us how homophobia keeps many men from getting tested for HIV. Then, an elderly man spoke about contracting HIV when we was a heavy drug user. He stood up to thank God -- more than a few times -- for the treatment he's receiving.
And then, a story I'll never forget.
A mother of four told us only her daughters and a neighbor know she's living with HIV. But she said the stigma of the disease has driven them apart. When she cooks for her daughters, they won't eat her food. When she does laundry, they ask her to wash their clothes separately. No one knows where she's going when she visits the clinic to get medication.
The stories went on ... for a long time. To those who frequent the clinic, we were a group of curious international journalists paying witness to their experience. They didn't let us go easily.
But aside from the all the gut-wrenching details, and the sometimes excessive platitudes they paid to the clinic, what I really heard was a collective sigh. Much like the one I heard when I walked into IYG more than fifteen years ago.
Chris died -- just a year after I met him.
None of us knew he was living with HIV. I heard he kept it a secret because he wanted to be perceived as living, not dying, which he thought would have stopped some of the support dollars from flowing in. If that's true, I appreciate the sacrifice. But I still wonder whether he feared losing the trust of the benefactors, or the youth.
... And if he were alive now, would he have spoken the truth?
IYG, Clinica Condesa are both testaments to the importance of creating safe spaces. But, groups form, spaces get built, shelters emerge ... So, the other question on my mind is what's changing outside?
Who would you tell if you were HIV-positive?
Who have you told?
Douglas Hopper
4:46 PM ET
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08- 4-2008
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New HIV/AIDS Findings: What's Working?
iStock
By now, you've heard the news that the number of new HIV infections in the U.S. is higher than previously known.
Just to be clear, the news is not that the epidemic seems to be worsening, but, rather, that the detection methods are better, which means that we can now know approximately when people became infected and how many actually are.
All fine and good, but why, in the richest country in the world, do African Americans, as a group, have an HIV/AIDS infection rate that rivals that of the developing world?
I participated in a town hall forum with Phill Wilson of the Black AIDS Institute last fall, in conjunction with the Congressional Black Caucus annual legislative weekend. What impressed me about that conference was -- in contrast to the new data we're just learning about -- how much we do know about what works and what does not in fighting HIV/AIDS. There were so many great initiatives already up and running. I was amazed. (I recognize that that was a reflection of my own ignorance, but I was under the impression that this was all new news.)
Wilson says the big issue is coordination: one hand does not know what the other is doing, so the best practices and innovative ideas that are working well in some communities are not replicated. Of course, there are also the systemic problems with health care in this country, but still.
We'd like to hear from you. What innovative, effective programs to fight HIV/AIDS are working where you live? If we hear from enough of you, we will find a way to showcase these ideas in an upcoming program.
I'll figure something out. We cannot let this epidemic go on.
And, speaking of news, meet the new Washington bureau chief for NBC News, Mark Whitaker. A quiet trailblazer, he spent most of his career at NEWSWEEK magazine, winning four national magazine awards as editor. Now, he's heading the network's D.C. bureau. His new role has to be one of the most glamorous jobs in journalism, filled rather remarkably for the last decade by someone who was surely one of the city's best loved, as well as best respected, journalists, Tim Russert, who was not a glamour hound. Russert was a down-to-earth teddybear who brought the heat.
Big shoes, but Whitaker has his own big shoes, not least that he is the first African American to fill many of the key jobs in which he's served, including this one.
And because it's Monday, and I know some people are sad to be back at work, we decided to make it funky for you with Brian Culbertson.
Enjoy. You know you can't fake the funk.
Michel Martin
3:26 PM ET
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08- 4-2008
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