Clayton Brown The new age
A RUSH OF SELF-ESTEEM
Life has improved significantly since my HIV diagnosis in
January. I seldom whinge about being black on the sometimes Nazi-like gay
scene and at the same time cannot find a trace of remorse on telling the white
gay establishment to practise what they preach, namely inclusiveness.
You may feel I exaggerate, but it has been my experience that 99 per cent
of gay establishments are run by white people and the only black faces seen
are manning the door or toilets. And, in the year 2006, the white bar/nightclub
managers still feel the need not to employ black bar staff.
I’ve noticed something else: white, gay men bitching about everything
while ignoring the benefits they receive with HIV treatment, which are denied
to others, namely Africans, who just happen to be black.
Maybe I’m coming across as aggressive but this couldn’t be further
from the truth. It’s as though, right now, every fibre of my being is
standing up to be counted, as a black, second-generation gay man.
For example, I’m now happy to tell white, gay men who simply view me
as a sex object to stay out of my life. Ironically, HIV has produced self-esteem,
which I can’t get enough of.
In the last four months I have secured a fulfilling job, moved out of a negative
environment, sorted out finances, taken up running, renewed gym membership,
embarked upon a course of meditation and (shock horror) bought some new clothes
from a non-charitable shop as well as a theatre ticket (to support black theatre).
Added to this, I have gone out of my way to meet non-plastic gay men and even
instigated a social gathering instead of waiting and waiting for any type
of invite. Cynics among you are probably thinking my state of mind can’t
last and any racists amongst you (yes, they do exist on the gay scene) will
simply assert that I have a bag of chips on my shoulder.
But
I am convinced that all my actions have, and will, continue to be positive.
Having an illness is seldom straightforward. For many, a disease signifies
death and, for others, a propensity to really live, not just breathe. For
my part I can confidently say I want to live for political reasons; no way
am I going to leave this earth without affecting change, however small, for
the benefit of black people (straight or gay). This is the rub. Having HIV
is making me conscious of my own mortality. I don’t mean HIV (or any
other illness for that matter) makes you think about death all the time, but
having HIV puts things into perspective and brings up questions of life’s
meanings, purposes and goals. So I say to all of us affected with HIV (black
or white); stay away from pessimistic people and replace them with positive
heroes, if you have not already done so.
Some people prefer to view the glass as half empty not half full and expect
others to do the same; they are individuals who enjoy nothing better than
to drain the life out of those trying to live. But who does that help? Always
read the label and stay well away as they could cost you your health, if not
more. They certainly will not jump into your grave once they have killed you
with their negative spirit.
I have no choice right now but to see HIV as a gift, because it’s very
probable that if my life hadn’t been drastically affected, then I could
have just aimlessly gone on and on thinking nothing, achieving nothing and
being nothing. After all, the walking apology (me) is the reason why I got
infected in the first place, thanks to low self-esteem borne out of my own
racism towards being black. In other words, a desperate feeling of not wanting
to be so and in order to feel included on the white gay scene. Now it remains
for me to tell you that Mr Positive Clayton Brown will hopefully (if I can
still get a place) run the Flora Marathon this year, take up gymnastics (no,
seriously) and above all do what I’ve always wanted to do (watch this
space). Meanwhile I urge everybody affected by HIV to speak their own truth
or do as their true-heart dictates.
• pnclaytonbrown@hotmail.co.uk
