Article for March, 2007

Selected Essays from Not in My Family

Edited By Gill L. Robertson IV

Essay 5
Ms. Different

By Nadia Lataillade

Hearts are racing, thoughts are carefree, and the moment has full control. They're ready to have fun and forget it all. She tells herself she's earned it, that she's young and now is the time to live spontaneously. He's in his prime—the more he gets, the more he's worth, and let's be honest, she's good enough to sample. So he does.

It only takes a moment, a silent lock of the eyes. The question—the answer—yes. They don't know where they are. A vacant room—a car—a closet. It doesn't matter. All we know is that she wants him and he wants her and in that special moment she will...

She will...what do you put in the blank? As varied as the answers will be, almost all of them will be wrong. In moments like these, when we feel it is understandable and almost right for us to lose control, we forget about the risks. The last thing we think is "in that special moment she will...be infected with AIDS."

As an American woman living luxuriously in the suburbs of Los Angeles, I can say that being infected with the AIDS virus was one of the last things that I ever thought about. Even though I was born in 1984, in the height of the first epidemic, my relation to the AIDS virus was very tangential. I recognized the virus for the repulsive horror it was, I empathized with its victims, I watched the movies and campaigns, I knew both people living with and those who had succumbed to the virus, but I never truly considered the fact that it could one day attack me. How is it that when young adults like myself think of the clichés our mothers told us involving unprotected sex ("A moment of passion may lead to a lifetime of pain"—or death, in this case), we are still more petrified of K-I-D-S, the fruitful offspring that will sacrifice our bank accounts and vibrant social lives, instead of being deathly afraid of A-I-D-S, the devastating virus that could sacrifice our lives? How can this still be the case, considering all the campaigns, the plays that come to high schools, Tyrese on BET, and Bono?

Tony Kushner's Angels in America and Bono's campaigns in Africa, as progressive as they are, helped me to maintain my distance and ignorance. I could contribute to the funds and watch the play and HBO movie while compartmentalizing these groups away from myself. As a black woman, I can safely say it was the first time I was excited to not be included. I was comforted by the fact that I was not. I am not a homosexual male, I do not share needles, nor do I live in a Third World country, and if I ever visited Africa, we can all be sure I would not have sex, protected or not, with a native. By these standards, I would never be infected with AIDS.

The largest group currently being infected with the AIDS virus in America is black women. That makes me Target #1. How did this happen? How did a virus whose favorite victim was homosexual white men develop a taste for the complete opposite—heterosexual black women?

This virus seems to be extremely successful in attacking marginalized groups. AIDS first attacked homosexual men and drug addicts. Next, it globally attacked poverty, or shall we say, Third World countries. If that wasn't enough, it attacked Africa, wiping out nearly an entire generation of people. Now, American black women are also under attack.

This virus doesn't care which group you think you're a part of, or which group you choose to blame. Eventually, rich, poor, young, old, white, black, Asian, and other...our names can all be on the list.

A recent graduate of the University of Southern California, Nadia Lataillade is pursuing a career as a professional writer.

Essay 29
Innocence, Love, and Loss to AIDS  

By Shawna C. Ervin, aka Virtue

Andrea and I were two brown-skinned girls, aged 11, each beautiful but different in her own way. We were having a conversation about boys. The conversation turned to a teenage girl we both knew. We talked about how she hooked up with a lot of boys. I said "I will never be like her."

I can hardly recall Andrea's comment, but what I said next changed my life forever. "She's gonna end up with AIDS."

This, I remember. Andrea asked, "What would you do if she had AIDS?"

"Are you crazy? I would disown her."

"What if I told you I have AIDS?" she said.

"Ha-ha-ha. You're stupid! You don't have AIDS!"

"Shawna, I have AIDS."

"Don't even play like that. It's not funny," I stammered.

The look on her face was so serious. I could feel a huge lump in my throat.

Andrea continued, "I wouldn't play like that. Go ask my dad."

When I did, his eyes got wide and glazed over as he looked past me to Andrea. He said, "You told her?" With that, my whole life changed.

I met Andrea when we moved down the street from her in Long Beach when I was three years old. She was bright, precocious, and a little mischievous, and we were inseparable. When I was seven, our family moved to Pasadena.

Our parents drove us back and forth to spend weekends and holidays with each other because we were best friends and could not live without each other.

My life screeched to a halt the day I learned I would have to live without her. I just remember my heart collapsing into my stomach and the tears streaming down my cheeks with a feeling of hopelessness. At that time, we weren't very educated about HIV/AIDS. In my mind, life with her would soon be over. That beautiful, strong, sweet, spirited child wrapped her arms around me and told me to stop crying. The doctors had caught the virus in its early stage, ARC. She said it would be many years before it became full-blown AIDS, and that she was going to live a long time.

"I'm not dead yet and I'm not dying tomorrow. I ain't goin' nowhere for a long time," she exclaimed with boldness, and her cute little giggle that brought a smile to my face.

Two years earlier, in the early '80s, Andrea had fallen out of a tree. The fall resulted in an open fracture of her arm. She had been given a blood transfusion, and the transfusion was the reason for her HIV infection. This was just before all donated blood began to be tested for HIV.

In an instant, my whole perspective on AIDS changed because I knew Andrea. My understanding became that the innocent and pure in heart could contract this deadly virus. People didn't choose it. It could indiscriminately choose them.

The next 10 years were life as usual. We grew up. We spent every New Year's Eve together. She had invited me to my first ballet class when we were four, and our classes continued until I was 19. The first time we smoked cigarettes, we were together. She was the first person I told about my first sexual encounter, and I was the first person she told about her first sexual encounter. She took me to my first and only Prince concert. My first trip to New York, we were together. She was my maid of honor when I got married and the godmother to my firstborn child. She was on her deathbed when I was pregnant with my second child, who of course is named Andrea, and my third child carries her middle name, Marie.

On her deathbed...that wasn't as hard for me as I had anticipated. I think it was because she was so full of life. Even when she was very sick, she was always determined to live her life to the fullest. She went on vacations and exposed herself to different cultures. She was a collector of various styles of art, and was artistically creative herself. I still have things that she and her mom, my godmother, made for me. She was always taking pictures, and we constantly were writing each other letters and poems. It was as though our life together was simply preparation for life apart. Andrea used to say to me, "Always together, never apart, maybe in distance, but never in heart."

Her last days on earth were hard for her and her family. Andrea was very uncomfortable and in a lot of pain, and on that last night before she died, her doctors planned to run some more tests the following day that would cause her more pain. I went home and prayed, "Dear God, please just take her. Don't let her go through any more pain. Take her where she can be healthy and happy again. Please, God." It was at 2:00 a.m. that my mom came in my room and told me, "Andrea's gone. She passed this morning." At first, I felt tremendously guilty because I prayed for her to die, but suddenly a peace came over me that at the time I could not explain. I know my best friend was healthy, happy, smiling down on me, and looking out for me like she always had. She was and is my angel.

She died on March 10, 1996, three days before my 21st birthday. She was 20 years old. The faith that had grown through my relationship with Andrea doesn't allow me to experience life without her. She is still and will always be a part of my daily blessings. To this day, I speak to Momma (her mother) on a regular basis, and my children call her "Nana." I dated Andrea's younger brother for five years. Her family is my family, and the common denominator of love has been, and will always be, Andrea.

Shawna Ervin is a popular hairstylist who resides in Los Angeles, CA.

Current as of March 2007