Surviving and Thriving with AIDS: Hints for the Newly Diagnosed Michael Callen, Editor

©1987 PWAC NOTE: THIS IS OLD NEWS, posted for historical research only. The medical information herein is extremely outdated!

AIDS FROM AN AFRIKAN-AMERICAN PERSPECTIVE

AIDS AND THE AFRIKAN-AMERICAN PWA
by Rev. Charles Angel

It finally happened. After years of seeing friends, close and distant, buried, my news came. Or as so many PWA's can attest, "the news" finally came.

At the age of 35, having lived through the "do as you please, have who you want, '70's," it was not if I get AIDS, but when.

I hoped early years of GMHC volunteer work, condoms and tears shed at "AIDS in the Black Community" conferences would save me. Walking through the African American and Caribbean communities of New York, I didn't see people I used to see, and nobody seems to want to discuss where they have gone.

Finally, it happened. The lesion on my arm wasn't a blemish or an insect bite. At 10:30 a.m., January 7, 1987, I was diagnosed with Kaposi's sarcoma.

I'm shocked. I'm scared. I'm numb. But at the same time, it is not as horrible as the constant fear of AIDS. It's finally here. Like so many PWAs, I'm really able to say that the diagnosis isn't as bad as the anxiety.

My initial terror was almost unspeakable. All the questions: When will I die? How will I die? Should I commit suicide? How should I commit suicide?

Then finally, after a day or so, I made a decision. I reached into my experiences and I began to listen to all the inner voices that have kept me alive as an openly gay, Afrikan man born as an American in New York City. I now needed the strength I received in numerous spirit-filled church services. Now, more than ever, all the fiery sermons I had ever preached will now, as a preacher with AIDS, have to keep me alive.

The inner guides of rich family roots deep in the black life of New York have to support me. Defeating AIDS has meant that I will have to reach out and gather all of the strength that has carried my people through second-class citizenship, segregation, reconstruction and far into the memories of my slave ancestors. My American roots alone are not enough.

The fortitude and glory of my West African beginnings must be employed in a battle to defeat AIDS. I need all of this plus the modern memories of grand, black gay times in Manhattan streets and Brooklyn sidewalks.

While our lives will never be the same, we must not forget to laugh and have the strength to live. There comes a point in dealing with AIDS that one must take control and decide to live. I am going to live and like every other human being, one day I shall die.

But I've made the choice that I will not die of AIDS. It no longer has power over me.