From The Ashes ...

One Never Knows, Does One?

Ed Note: Chances are, I'm poking a stick into a hornet's nest. But in reality, I've already been stung. This seems too important for worries about my comfort level to win out. I was so upset and angry when this happened I couldn't get the words out. Until now.

You know, I started this weblog right after I was diagnosed HIV+. Back then, I thought of it as a way for me to keep a record of my experiences and impressions. As a way to purge myself of fears. As a tether line to the truth at the core of myself in case I started to lose my way. That's still the case. I'm learning, growing, discovering my strengths and accepting my weaknesses every day.

As the months became a year, and then more, it became something else. As people from all over the country and then the world began to e-mail me: "You don't know me but...." it became so much more. I began to realize that while I certainly couldn't change the world completely, I could use my illness and this weblog to give people information they might not have. To reassure someone during those frightening first few weeks of a new diagnosis that it's going to get better. To show that while certainly, staying negative is better if not easier, becoming positive can spur you on to really crystallizing the salient point that you oughta get off your ass and make the life you have the best you know how to make it. And that's what I've been trying to do here. To make you laugh because life is fun. To touch your heart because life is tragic. To make you think because knowledge really is power. And to give you hope because in hope there are dreams and in dreams there are no limits.

But as with all public endeavors there is risk. And there are surprises. When you chose to live an open-book life it can have consequences insofar as who is doing the reading. It's the ultimate loss of control, an extraordinary leap for a (diagnosed by Neo) control freak like me. As limitless as a presence on the internet seems to be, inherent in that arrangement is the fact that (virtually) anyone has access to you.

And so it came to pass that I would one day cross paths with the Gay Deaf Militant Terrorist. Now mind you, before that happened, I didn't even know Gay Deaf Militants existed, so in that, if I must try to take some good from it (and I must), there was something new I learned. At first, I believed that this GDMT was an anomaly. A lunatic pocket off in some silent corner of the web seething alone. Not so. Further research has revealed a sub-strata of GDM's imagining secret "hearie" agendas that do not exist and subtext about our (supposed, although truly non-existent) relationship to the audibly challenged in our midst. But I misjudged how deeply his hate ran and how hurtful the form his rage could take. As I voluntarily set sail towards the lunatic fringe, I had no idea where this journey would take me.

At first the rantings directed at me were veiled. I was referred to in print as "this guy" or "someone called me...". As the GDMT's extreme anger festered inside him and he began to realize that my retaliating would be in print and he no longer feared for his physical safety, his attacks escalated in tone and severity. In retrospect, and based on my desire to understand where hatred is born, it seems that because I really had frightened him for a time, coupled with his deep-seated resentment for "hearie" people, that getting revenge by somehow finding a way to hurt me became paramount in his twisted view. Should I have suspected this was going to take an ominous turn? As references to me began turning up again and again for days and then weeks? Yes. The obsessive fixation is there to see. I just didn't.

I believed at one point, that my tactic of not responding to any of this was working. I would have to suffer a few veiled references before it all faded away like the ephemera it should by all rights have been. That is, until anonymous hate messages found their way to me. At first, it amused me more than bothered me. They were so out of touch, both in syntax and sentiment, that I simply filed them under "anonymous lunatic", preparing to laugh at them, laugh it off, and move on. Believe me, when I decided to devote a real life, real truth, warts and all weblog covering New York City, gay men, sex, growing up and HIV I figured I would have to deal with my share of psychotics and bigots. It was only through a modicum of digging and my own natural curiosity that it was revealed to me that the "anonymous lunatic" was, in reality the GDMT.

This was a surprising new tactic and it made me furious. How long was I going to have to suffer the attention of this fool before he realized that, contrary to the self aggrandizing scenario he had concocted for the situation, I wanted nothing more to do with him? Unfortunately, I accomplished the opposite by posting an elaborate attack (with pictures), detailing the hateful wishes that he's hoping for my death (not anytime soon, by the way), and all the things I won't rehash because it's boring even me. Was it childish of me? Foolhardy? Apparently it was childish. The proof of that for me is that the GDMT retaliated with an almost identical post. Only he decided to kick it up a notch. Apparently, and I believe it to be through one of my e-mails, he managed to get my first and last name. Which he was now using repeatedly in every reference to me. I am not, by nature a paranoid person. That's why my full name comes on many of my e-mail accounts. I believe that if you feel you have to write a letter, or contact a company about their services, or respond in print to something that upsets you, you should have the courage of your convictions (grow a set) and use your name. What truly upset me at first was that I had no desire to have my name in any way, shape or form be associated with the content on those "pages." And believe me, it had less to do with what was said about me so far as it is that I detest most of his views on life, I don't like his politics, I don't like his social dealings, I don't find his experiences interesting, I don't care what's going on with his job, I don't know, or care to, what the fucking difference is in ASL or DSL or ASPCA. I. don't. care. But now here I was, by name in print splashed across all of it. Of course, the rant by the GDMT went on and on attributing the whole problem to my being a "stupid hearie" and I was ugly to boot. References were made to my decision to face my anxiety problem. Any and all supposed "flaws" were now being made fun of or derided. A classic tactic by someone in crisis and consumed by self-loathing is a need to denigrate others and their "problems" in the (futile) hope that this will elevate themselves somehow. Ridiculing me for helping myself to heal reveals much about the source.

But I had now cemented the fixation. I was now being referred to in a reaction to his choice of lunch. As if I care. I was reference-linked to his invitation to a graduation. More "criticism" directed at me, as a weblog primarily about living with HIV is....wait for it.."65% about HIV"! As if I am writing to interest or speak to the GDMT in any way shape or form. Other objects of the GDMT's scorn were invited to "suck Tom's diseased dick." In that, I must say there's some truth. I am in fact contagious. Unlike those medicated HIV childrens, I'm not sick enough yet for medication. I don't get to squawk that my viral load is undetectable. It's all too detectable, I'm a walking bug factory, muthafucka! So diseased, check. Point taken. That's of course when he wasn't e-mailing me directly claiming I was suffering from "crix body" or "facial wasting". It was then I saw the path we were heading down, too late to stop it.

And on May 22, it finally happened. Among much more of the same insane drivel he posted this:


(My first and last name) is at it again. Our emails has been bouncing off each other like a dodgeball. He always threw such hateful comments about deafness, appearances, intelligence and so on. I threw it back with his flaws. He has flaws such as too old, too ugly, too bitter, consummated with HIV thing, et al.

You know the rules, what you sow, you reap. He has been vicious so I had to defend who I am by throwing it back onto him. It is silly since he is much older than I am. Yet, he is still a bitter queen. Maybe that is why he has the virus to shake himself up and wake up.

Aside from the obvious, it's telling that I allegedly referenced his deafness along with the other things. I categorically admit I called him stupid and fat. I would never, ever make fun of a person's disabilities. My spirit doesn't permit an offense like that. So deeply is the GDMT lost in his own psychosis, he reads affronts to his deafness where they don't exist.

Most important, of course, is that this reprehensible creature has now told the world, and by extension potentially my family, that I am HIV+. Now, I haven't been exactly hiding this fact. I'm pretty sure everyone I work with knows this. I'm certain anyone from New York City that pays attention to what I write could easily discern what I do and where I work. And it has been a running theme throughout my writings that I'm urging people to not be ashamed of contracting HIV. To face the situation with dignity and determination. All my closest friends I've told. But the family, that's a whole 'nother ball of wax isn't it? If you've been with me for a while I do mention the family on occasion but not very frequently. We're not estranged by any means but we're really not that close. Not so close that I didn't consider telling them a personal medical diagnosis right away. At first, I was wisely counseled by Neo that I shouldn't disclose this to my family. He had waited over a year and was glad of it. I see now he was absolutely right. It's the type of thing you yourself need to take the time to get used to. You have to allow yourself your own process. To incorporate what it means to be HIV+ into your life and lifestyle. There's a learning curve. And it's certainly no time to have the added burden of trying to comfort a (potentially) hysterical family. Let alone running the possible risk of an out and out rejection. These things do happen, they are real.

And so I waited. But it has been a subject I have re-visited many times in my mind. I believe I could tell them now. I think I know the right words. But I've been in no particular hurry. While I'm ill, I'm not sick. There's no urgency spurring me on. I definitely have no plans to let them know this information any other way but face to face. Sadly, now I may not get that chance. While my immediate family is woefully internet deficient, the same can't be said of cousins and peers in my rather large extended family. They can and do (as I do) casually waste an afternoon doing random searches. And so I can expect that one day, maybe soon, my family will be made aware that I am HIV+. Regrettably, they will learn it in an environment of hate. In a forum I find reprehensible. Attached inexorably to a "man" who's every "thought" makes me want to wretch. For this, above all else, I apologize. I'm sorry I misjudged how deeply the wellspring of his anger and resentment runs. I'm sorry I didn't see that an individual who can gleefully celebrate your illness and possible death is capable of limitless psychotic fixation. I pray that this person will one day seek help for the self-loathing he has masked with complete narcissism. But I'm not hopeful.

So why am I telling you all this? What do I hope to accomplish? Well we're pretty much right where this posting started. If I accomplish anything at all with this weblog it will be a source of information for others to come. I want to prepare you. While for the most part my friends and co-workers have been great sources of comfort and pride for me, while I have surprised even myself with my ability to hold fast to my core beliefs of spirituality and strength, there are those within and without our world that may take your HIV status and attempt to use it as a weapon. They will call you diseased. They will attempt to embarrass you publicly as if my illness will somehow mask you being bereft of spirit. As if my "flaws" somehow elevate you to a more advantageous position. When all they really show you to be is scared. And sad. And soulless. Things that I will happily never be. And while I don't believe in "prayer" as others define it, I will work to understand and accept that while a great evil was done to me, the source of that evil is suffering horribly too. And The Universe will take care of the rest in due time. This I know and believe with all my heart. And now, my true beloveds, so will you.