In 1991, an acquaintance who didn’t know I was HIV-positive shared with me his solution to the epidemic: “People with AIDS should be required to wear tattoos above their private parts.”
That way, he theorized, the innocent would be forewarned before unwittingly having sex with a carrier of the virus.
The conversation inspired a similar discussion in my first novel Uprising, but now, in 2008, I offer a better solution, at least from where I’m standing: tell the whole world via a blog: I have AIDS.
That way, the scared can run, the judgmental can judge, the compassionate can show compassion, the educated can learn, the world can witness, and I don’t have to get a tattoo branding myself.
I have AIDS. I own it. I own who I am. Consider this blog my permanent tattoo. Pretty colorful, huh?