December 2006 Archives

You gotta respect the place for friends, MySpace, for what it is. I admit it: I am hooked on MySpace! MySpace is the greatest and I love it (so much that I have two accounts.) “Why?” you might ask. My first account is named “Marvelyn Brown” and the other one is just “Marvelyn,” aka Miss Shari, which is my middle name. The “Marvelyn Brown” page reveals my HIV status and the “Marvelyn” one does not.

Now while “Marvelyn Brown” does get love, and she has yet to experience any hateful comments, “Marvelyn” has mad more friends and receives mad more messages every day. “Marvelyn Brown” receives comments like, “You are a strong person,” “I admire you,” and “You are such an inspiration.”

But the comments on the “Marvelyn” page are a little different: “You are so sexy,” “You look so tropical,” and “You are beautiful.” I find this quite odd considering that behind both MySpace pages is the same person.

Granted, the two show slightly different pictures, and one has a little more personality than the other one, but let’s be real: Is the real reason “Marvelyn Brown” can’t be sexy the fact that she has HIV?

I am sexy. And I have HIV. The crazy part about it is that the only time “Marvelyn Brown” gets called “beautiful” is when a person is referring to her story, or what she is doing to make a difference in the world, and I almost forgot the times when a man flips though her pictures without reading her profile which happens more than often. I just love the dude that sends the same cheesy line to both my MySpace accounts. That is pure comedy.

On the “Marvelyn Brown” page most people just can’t see past the HIV. They read the page, and all they see is that I am HIV positive. On the “Marvelyn” page, they get a sense of who I am as a person first. They only learn that I am HIV positive when I tell them (I make it my mission to do so). But everyone—both the people who meet “Marvelyn” and those who meet “Marvelyn Brown”—should realize that HIV does not define me, and it is not who I am. It’s simply a piece of me. And trust: That piece is not that big.

Beyoncé’s stage name is “Sasha.” Mary J’s stage name is “Brooklyn.” Although I am not a performer, I have a stage name too. Mine is “Marvelyn Brown.” “Marvelyn Brown” has personality, class, an aura and HIV but at the end of the day she is just another part of “Marvelyn.”

I am so over the catch phrase “The New Face of HIV” being used as the title of every HIV/AIDS story in the media around the country. I am not the face of HIV— HIV is not a person; it’s a virus that just so happens to affect all humans. Breaking News: The first letter in HIV stands for “Human”—not “Homosexual,” “Heroin Addict,” “Heterosexual,” or “Ha, ha, ha, that does not relate to me.” So, that said, if HIV had a face, it would be whatever color you get when you mix together all the shades from your 3rd grade box of crayons.

When I laid eyes on the first print article I was in, the story was titled, “The New Face of HIV.” That was a little over two years ago. At first, I thought, “That is mad cool; I am the new face of HIV.” My lack of information made me think that I truly was the new face of HIV.

The phrase made me feel that I had an excuse for becoming infected because I was a young, black, heterosexual female who was not promiscuous. But after meeting people who look healthy just like me and act just like me, but have been living with the virus for twenty, even twenty-five years, I realize that I am not and never was the face of HIV. And it was not my lack of information, but misinformation, that led me to get HIV. I felt that HIV was not an issue for me because I was not a gay man, IV drug user or a prostitute, and I had heard that these were the people who mainly became infected with this virus.

Today, young, black heterosexual females often think that if their man is not on the “down low,” then HIV isn’t an issue for them. I have heard so much about this “down low” phenomenon that I began to question if the guy who infected me was on the “down low.” But, I know that he is as straight as my hair weave after I get it done. My point is that we rely so much on the media and other things to teach us this and show us that, but at the end of the day we’re all responsible for ourselves. I’m not trying to scare you; but it’s important for all of us to educate ourselves and be responsible for own actions. That means everything from getting an HIV test to using condoms each and every time you have sex. I may have once thought it was “mad cool” to be the new face of HIV, but, I have learned, it is a lot more serious than I ever thought.

“Girl you look so good! What have you been doing since high school? You have slimmed down, what diet are you on?” I looked at this random girl from high school dead in her eye, having never weighed over 130 pounds in my life, and said, “HIV.” A few months later I was approached by a guy I knew but had not seen in a while, and he asked, “How have you been?” I looked at him and said, “Dying.” He smiled nervously. He said, “Yeah man, I heard about that.” All I did was laugh.

Some of you are probably thinking: Marvelyn that was cold. Those people were being nice. They weren’t being nice; they were being nosy—hoping I was going to give up some info that they could run back and gossip about.

I never get the typical “What’s up?” Instead, I get the, “How’s your health?” So, if I am feeling particularly sassy, I am going to be real, or tell you what you least expect. I have HIV. Now what?

People deal with problems a little differently, but music, God, and laughter have gotten me through some tough times. I am a very kind person, so please don’t think that my every interaction with people off the street is one where my mouth is smart. Just know my name is Marvelyn, I have a best friend named Cortney and I like Skittles and Seven Jeans. I’m not just the girl with AIDS.

It is impossible to ignore the fact that I do have this disease, but it should be something that I can bring up on my terms. One way that I lessen the load is by cracking AIDS jokes. I will send text messages to my positive friends saying “HAPPY T-CELL DAY.” They laugh—they think it’s funny, too. But we wouldn’t find it funny if someone who was negative sent it. It’s like the N-word: you gotta be it to say it. Hey, I figure since the doctor told me that stress kills people living with HIV, I should spend more time laughing than complaining.

Just this summer, after waiting for a table at Red Lobster for 45 minutes. I asked the hostess to bring me some cheddar bay biscuits and some water. She explained to me that I needed to be seated and a server would have to take that order. So I looked her dead in the face and said, “I have AIDS, and I need to eat.” I wasn’t asking for an Ultimate Feast, just some bread and water so that I could take my meds. I’ve seen people with diabetes demand some bread because their blood sugar is low. Now don’t get me wrong, in no way am I saying that they are both the same, but I am not going to stay quiet about my disease. When I need those banging cheddar bay biscuits, that’s what I need.

You could take my responses to people’s questions—or need for food— as AIDS behaving badly, or you could see it like I do: Marvelyn is just standing up for herself.

“Don’t I know you?" a complete stranger said to me recently, over-excited. I looked at her dead in the eye, smiled, and told her, “You only know what you see on TV. Nice to meet you, though.” LOL.