One More Story

This topic is controversial, so read this post knowing that we are one family with our own way of doing things. I am not assuming other families are doing things wrong, or that other viewpoints are not legitimate. This is my blog, and it's simply my opinion.

"The spread of this one virus raises difficult questions about why we do the things we do, why we believe what we believe-about who we are and what we value." Stephanie Nolan, 28 stories of AIDS in Africa, p. 4.

I picked up a wonderful book called 28 stories of AIDS in Africa. It has brought me to tears several times, and I am only on p. 67. I was engrossed in the introduction, and was feeling devastated for Africa, when I realized, this isn't about "them", it's about "us". My little boy is one of these kids.

He is so healthy and lively that I forget he is one of the victims of HIV. I have been so focused on whether or not he is fitting in with our family that I have sort of forgotten that he has a life threatening disease. Fortunately, he is still doing well and is not yet needing ARVs, but it is inevitable that he will. I was reminded that HIV is a devastating reality in Africa, and truly it is for America too, no matter how much we try to ignore it.

It has made me think about disclosing Nes's status. I have been open about it on this blog, and when it comes up in conversations I tell people. I know that every family handles disclosure differently, and I feel that is the way it should be. We all have different circumstances, different children, different communities, therefore we all have to handle who we tell and when differently.

I have always been a tell it like it is person. I come from a long line of very frank women, some of them even read this blog. I am a terrible liar, I can never remember what I said, so it is best if I just say it like I remember it. I grew up in a small town where everyone knew what you were doing before you did it, so there was really no point in trying to be sneaky. Add to all that, the fact that I have eight children most of which have the same background, we just don't have any secrets. I also believe strongly that people can deal with you better if they know what they are dealing with. I realize that this attitude makes for bumpy roads ahead.

I am used to getting funny looks from people when I take my family out in public. We are a good sized crowd and people find that odd. We get a variety of comments, and the kids have grown up in it so they know the answers. "Yes we are all theirs", "yes we know how you get them", etc. I have noticed that ever since I left the guesthouse in Addis with Nes, that I get odd looks. At first I was thinking "that's weird I only have two". Then I realized, "oh, one of us is darker than the others". So that is what racism feels like. This isn't really a first for my family. We have been hated for our plaid uniforms, for the church we go to, for the school we attend, for the size of our family, for the neighborhood that we do lessons in. One morning on the way to school the local news announced that our little classical school of three girls had been shut down. We were no longer allowed to meet in a residential neighborhood, and the city was rejoicing. My six year old daughter looked at me and asked why they hated us. Ouch, life is tough. That is the truth however, life is tough. We will be hated in this world by someone for something no matter who we are or what it is we are doing. It is a painful reality and I want my kids to know it from the beginning. Nes has never faced racism. He was at home, he was the majority. I have put him in the position of being a minority by adopting him into our family. But I have also given him a mother and a father and sisters and brothers. I have given him a people that love him. I have given him access to health care and education. There is good and there is bad in this new situation, there is no denying that. People will hate him because he is African American. They will hate him because he is HIV+. They will hate him because he is a Christian. All of this is unfair. Life is not fair. I keep trying to teach my kids that truth. I love them all very much, and I don't want them growing up thinking that if they hide some piece of their life people will love them. The people that love them know them. The people that hate them know what they see and have judged by some label.

I shudder to think of the things my son will hear when he is a teen age, African American, HIV+ male. Doesn't conjure up positive images does it? What do you think of when you read that? Why? People are not likely to listen to how he became HIV+. They are not likely to listen to anything he has to say if that is all that they know about him. Can I, as his mother change that? No. I can do my best to prepare him for it. I can teach him that life is not fair, that sometimes you have to lay your life down to help someone else. You have to suffer injustice so that someone else will open their eyes. That is what disclosing his status will do to him, and to all of us. We will be hated for adopting "one of those" children. We will be accused of sucking up taxpayer dollars to take care of a child that will die anyway. We will be accused of endangering our community, our family, and our nation. None of it is true, it is all based on fear and a lack of education.

That is what 65 pages of 28 stories of AIDS in Africa, got me thinking about last night. What did I know about AIDS or HIV a year ago? Not much. I didn't know there were HIV+ people living in my community. I didn't know what ARVs were, or who paid for them. I didn't know that AIDS affects nearly every family in Africa. Put yourself in their shoes. What if every family you knew, had either had someone die of AIDS, or knew someone that was living with it? That is astounding. We live with it here too. We just don't have to face it, because we have drugs that knock it out. In America HIV is considered a chronic, manageable disease. I can live with my son, and not think about it everyday. Life is not fair, life is not simple, life is glorious. I want all of my children to know that Rick and I know them, we love them, they are created in God's image for His glory. We will always love them no matter what, and that there are people in the world that will hate them no matter what, but ultimately the people who matter will love them just the way they are. I want them to know we aren't hiding anything, and we are prepared to live with the consequences.