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-Story 5
None of the campaigns put a face to HIV or said to me other guys my age were HIV positive.
Post 1996 people stopped talking about HIV
I know HIV and AIDS was a big turning point within the gay community. However, it wasn't something that was affecting my life, and it wasn't something that I have a memory of happening. I arrived in London in '92 and my current partner had arrived from rural England, and we both met in London. We shared and learnt about ourselves, were empowered by our sexuality and were on the same journey.
Neither of us brought any knowledge or experience from the '80s so there was no impact of HIV. We were on a scene where it was big enough to absorb any gaps that may have been left by the '80s. Nowhere in those several years spent in London did I ever see the impact of HIV on the gay community. I wasn't there when it happened. I came later as a young kid. When we arrived back in Australia it was '97 and by then the '80s were a distant memory: not for those who lived through the '80s. It was post '96, there were new treatments and people stopped talking about HIV. There was this false sense of security: HIV wasn't there. It was invisible.
Listening to guys talking about the '80s, what really surprises me is that disclosure during that time provided guys with a community and support, and access to grass roots organizations. These were built around the need to support a community, which if it didn't support itself, nobody else would. In an era where positive people feared discrimination from the general population, there was more visibility around HIV than today.
Disclosure during the '80s was political: it was about putting a face to HIV. It was about getting access to treatments. Today disclosure can leave you standing alone at the bar. We've built an environment where it's fearful to disclose. There's a fractured community where there are different generations of HIV and there's little discussion between them.
What is interesting for me is meeting other positive people who have lived long term with HIV and their stories are quite different. They were told they were going to die, then HAART came along and things changed. With that came the expectation that they would get on with living, as if the previous fifteen plus years hadn't happened to them.
I'm fortunate I've been diagnosed in an era where I'm told I'm going to live. How effectively I do this is built on the choices I make around educating myself and managing my health. At no point in my seven years of being positive has anybody said this is something you're going to die from. It's all about me being able to make choices to influence how well I live. However, it's not the experience of a lot of the people I know.
The diagnosis at the time certainly was a shock, it put me into a period of denial, and drugs fueled this denial. Then there was a wakeup call that meant having to face it. Through being educated, being informed and knowing other positive people, HIV is no longer a fearful thing. It's not the end of the world. I've gone on a journey of self-discovery through my diagnosis. For me, the only thing that's more fearful than being diagnosed these days is starting treatments. You hope it works. You hope it doesn't have a major impact or side effects.
Boundaries were clearly there to be negotiated
One of the key areas of prevention is creating environments where people feel more comfortable about disclosure. Then they can make decisions about what their boundaries are in an environment where people are informed and educated.
At the time I was diagnosed I was in my twenties and boundaries were clearly there to be negotiated. One of the major factors in how far I took my sexual boundaries was that I made decisions about people's status on how they appeared: not on whether they disclosed. I had a stereotypical image of what I thought a positive person looked like.
I'm coming up to 32: I was diagnosed when I was 25. I understand why guys do not disclose their status: the environment is such that disclosure brings so much rejection to many people. I didn't realise that environment existed until I was positive and understood the hurdles around disclosure.
What does HIV look like. When you're in your twenties you don't remember the impact of HIV during the '80s: it doesn't penetrate. So it's really important that we rebrand the image of HIV: put a contemporary face to it. The picture of Elaine with her children in the last issue of Talkabout is going to test the boundaries of what people think the visual image of HIV is.
Making assumptions
I was trusting. I didn't ask or was concerned about people's status when having casual sex. I would make assumptions that a lot of the people I was having sex with weren't positive because (a) they weren't disclosing therefore they probably weren't and (b) they didn't look positive. None of the campaigns captured an image for me, tested boundaries, put a face to HIV or said to me that other people my age were positive. Back in the late '90s if I met someone in his late 40s I'd probably make an assumption he was positive, somebody who was my own age not at all: that hasn't changed with young people. HIV coming into their world is something they don't think about. They think that HIV is associated with an older group.
We talk about the older generation having been given a death sentence with their diagnosis and then along came HAART. For the younger generation when it comes to a positive status the experience is one of isolation.
An identity not solely governed by HIV
I feel incredibly optimistic about the future because of the changes I've put in place and the support of my partner of eleven years. We both encouraged each other with our bad behaviour but also encouraged each other with our need to start being a little more sensible about where we're at in life and what measures we need to take to achieve a quality of life. When you're got that support it makes a huge difference to the outcomes.
I don't necessarily identify with the HIV community. It's not because I resist it or don't participate, I don't see there is one that captures everybody who's positive. For me, my identity is tied in with where I fit in society and my place in the world as opposed to it being solely governed by being positive. Being positive is part of that experience. It's not something that drives all my decisions.
I have worked with a lot of HIV positive people and it surprises me that 95% of the time HIV is not the focus. I worked with addiction, mental health, housing and financial issues. It was very rare that I actually spent a day working with somebody whose key issue was HIV.
Photos: Jamie Dunbar
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