Ambiguous

This week, our reading focused on HIV/AIDS in America, with a cursory look at the epidemics in the Caribbean and Latin America. However, with the focus on the USA, I find myself wading through a lot of vague ideas and questions. Needless to say, this week I feel very confused and overwhelmed. I’m not sure what my role is as a student researcher, studying HIV/AIDS in Botswana and Detroit. And, I’m not even sure if I have the skills, the tools, and the ability to do that kind of research correctly—without negatively impacting the groups that I aim to help. I find that when it comes to HIV and AIDS there is simply too much ambiguity.

First of all, there are far too many labels. In Africa, the HIV epidemic is branded as one that is affecting heteronormative heterosexual people—although the truth of that can possibly be disputed. In contrast, in the USA, HIV is considered a disease of drug users and people of non-heteronormative sexuality. These people may self-identify themselves with any number of labels, including homosexual, gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender men, transgender women, hermaphrodite, intersex, asexual, questioning, queer, butch queen, femme queen, drag queens, MSM, WSW, MSMW, WSWM, etc. None of these labels are very clearly defined, and there is considerable overlap between them. However, there are still subgroups within each label that are dependent on race. The experience of an African American lesbian is very different from the experience of an Asian lesbian. This further confounds these groupings, which are often considered fluid, changing depending on context. For the purposes of these blogs, I will refer to these various groups as alternative sexualities or non-heteronormative sexualities. I hope those terms don’t offend or marginalize anyone, I’m just trying to simplify things a bit.

The major problem I have with the ambiguity of all these labels is that I can’t put a face to any of these groups. How do I, as a student researcher, approach these groups when I have no knowledge or understanding of them? How do I prevent myself from oversimplifying their complex lives and the complex issues they face when I have no way of conceptualizing those lives or issues? The scholarly articles we read and discuss in class are not enough—I want to actually see and talk to some of these people or to researchers who interact with them so I have a better idea of what to expect and how to conduct myself.

I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like to be an African American person, much less an African person. I’m not sure that I’ve ever met an adult who is a member of the LGBTQ community. How could I possible understand what it’s like to be someone who is both African American and a part of the LGBTQ community? Or Hispanic and part of the LGBTQ community? Or African or Asian or Native American? I wouldn’t even know how to begin. I can’t help but wonder if my attempts to analyze the current state of affairs regarding HIV and  my attempts to commentate on strategies being used to help these groups and identify ideas that need to be put into action, I am inadvertently passing judgment and engaging in the marginalization of these groups of people myself.

I’m pretty sure that everything I write (and everything I have written) in this blog entry will probably be stereotyped, colored by my own personal biases. I don’t intend to, but I am most likely going to oversimplify some very complex, multi-faceted issues. And I am probably going to make assumptions of similarity among certain groups of people, even though the views and lifestyles of the people in those groups are probably very varied. With that being said, here are my thoughts on marginalization, stigma, and politics, based on the reading for this week. Hopefully, I’m doing some justice to the experiences and the discrimination faced by those who are marginalized. If not, I’m truly sorry, but I suppose I won’t ever be able to completely understand where my thoughts have gone wrong.

In essence, marginalization occurs because the mainstream group can identify and label one group of people as the “other.” The “others” are usually isolated because they engage in what is seen as immoral behavior. It seems to me that marginalization and the attachment of stigma has happened to people with HIV/AIDS in American and in Africa, especially to drug users and to those who aren’t heteronormative. In America, race plays a strong role in marginalization, ultimately affecting funding. I feel that this has been extrapolated to a large extent to the entire continent of Africa, which has experienced marginalization to some extent by the international community.

In many cases, the entire African experience is considered to be identical across the board. People forget to account for the plethora of cultural, social, economic, and political differences across the continent. The HIV epidemic is considered a heterosexual one in Africa, even though it is clearly a problem among non-heteronormative sexualities. In order to get funding, the “outliers” or “others” in Africa have been marginalized—including non-heterosexuals, women, and drug users.

This is the same pattern of what has happened in America. While the White LGBTQ community is relatively well-funded, minority groups aren’t. And few people are paying attention to the unique risks faced by minority women. Many of the people affected by HIV are disenfranchised from mainstream society in the USA to the point that they no longer attempt to access any sort of healthcare. Sound familiar? This is very similar to people choosing alternative healers in Botswana over modern medicine when it comes to care for HIV. In the USA, certain groups are innately distrustful of government for fear or persecution, racism, and discrimination. Many Africans feel that HIV is a “white” or “Western” disease, and so they fear the advice of NGOs, modern healthcare, and sometimes even their own governments. African Americans and Africans have both made claims that HIV was designed by white people to kill them.

Ultimately, this marginalization has a strong affect on how these groups represent themselves to the mainstream group, particularly in the political sphere. The marginalized group seeks to present itself as having a singular experience and agenda, inducing secondary marginalization of those is subsets of that group that don’t identify with that experience or with that agenda. African American women whose life experience doesn’t mirror that of the quintessential African American man with little choice but to turn to crime for sustenance, or African American women who are considered to be engage in immoral behavior, such as teen pregnancy have no voice in African American politics. Those who are impoverished or uneducated may not have time, resources, or ability to wade through the paperwork to get services they need from Medicaid, Medicare, and the Ryan White Program. The culture of certain facets of LGBTQ community, such as Ballroom culture, is completely ignored, rather than being used as a way to prevent HIV transmission.

Similarly in Africa, the existence of non-heteronormative sexualities is completely ignored, and often criminalized. This is because Africa relies heavily on the Western world for funding, research, and infrastructure to reduce HIV incidence and transmission. If the African HIV epidemic is no longer a heterosexual epidemic, some of this funding, support, and research may be withdrawn. So, the experiences of Africans who have non-heteronormative sexualities, are sex workers, or are victims of sexual abuse are ignored. In fact, in many cases, these people aren’t even factored into the equation. How can research and services properly address the situation if entire groups of people are being ignored? How is that an effective use of funds?

Can all of these issues be any more confounded and ambiguous? What's the right course of action to take--help the majority or help the minority? Honestly, I don't know if doing what is for the "common good" is really for the common good.

I know this blog post has become very long-winded. And, I think my frustration with the cyclic, caustic process of marginalization has become evident. But, I’d like to end with a few things I discovered as a result of my new StumbleUpon account. I most definitely recommend that site to anyone who hasn’t used it—there’s some fantastic stuff. First of all, I wanted to share the 2010 World AIDS Day Video: http://www.avert.org/world-aids-day.htm . I think it does a great job of highlighting the need for universal access to HIV treatment. It also illustrates much of what I felt about the HIV epidemic before taking this class. Now, watching this video, I wonder, does it truly reflect the experiences and needs of all individuals living with HIV? Is it overstating certain aspects of the disease to appeal to a certain demographic—namely, Western heteronormative people concerned with global health? Is this video a vehicle of marginalization?

I’d also like to draw attention to inSpot: http://www.inspot.org/About/tabid/64/language/en-US/Default.aspx. This is a service that allows anyone to send a e-card or e-message to a sexual partner that they may have exposed to an STD. The message can be sent anonymously or not, and is accompanied by information and resources for that person, so that he or she can get tested and treated. While some of the e-cards on the site are insensitive and maybe even crass, and most of the e-cards seemed to be designed with the idea that they would be sent by a man to a woman, I think this site is a very interesting concept. Obviously, it has some major design flaws. And, it can only be used by people who regularly use the internet and social networking media, and have sexual partners that also do so regularly. But, if reworked, I think it could be an effective tool to help people inform partners of STD exposure, while eliminating stigma, discrimination, and marginalization in that that may stem in that interpersonal relationship from direct conversation. I definitely think it’s an option worth exploring.