Day 2 of the Mpowerment Summit surpassed my greatest expectations. For all that I gained from presentations about Program Implementation or Sustainability or the implication and impact of our National AIDS Strategy, it was the passion and sense of purpose of Summit participants that most struck me-- a kind of egalitarian connection to the promise of the intervention by everyone from its developers to outreach coordinators. We did a lot of affirming and huggin. It was strangely welcomed given my experiences of detachment and disconnect with the reasons we convene to talk about prevention in the first place: a belief that death by AIDS is preventable.
In the breaths between program rhetoric is when this becomes most obvious; a level of engagement that I haven't really seen around HIV prevention in quite some time. The young men we serve are colorful, creative, vulnerable, hopeful, and yes... sexual beings. There's a rather insidious way that behavioral science makes of young men of color, their breath, pulse, and desire-ability, a thing to be measured-- something catastrophically determinable and formulaic-- in an effort to manage its mortality: Center for Disease Control, to be sure, a self-fulfilling prophecy embodied by many dying to stay alive. Ironic that some wonder why the most human some young brothas feel is when they are in throws of passion, touched by something fleshy and visceral, unbridled by devices of protection and fear. What, in the loving between men, can be measured? Can we accept whatever it is about spirit that is immeasurable? If there was no money to save us, would we save ourselves?
Today, between presentations and lively discussion, I received a few logos developed by young men in the Prodigies of Pride CORE group-- designs I believe capture the hope and promise of a burgeoning community who truly believes they are on the verge of something truly groundbreaking. They are not exhausted or disillusioned for all their impatience for magic. They are more interested in joy than prevention. I also received a picture of them today that mirrored this potentiality. For all branding their brilliance could conjure, there will be no greater branding for me than their smiles. Brothas who extend arms to hold each other up never let each other down. This picture captured this hopefulness between young men who were, just weeks ago, not-so-distant strangers.
I believe that Mpowement's recipe for success is nothing at all if not capturing the imaginations and dreams of young men who shape it as superheroes defying the nihilism and apathy HIV statistics would suggest. I get to work on behalf of brave souls who remind be that it's okay to believe again, be angered by the injustice of of a system's disregard and neglect, who remind me that it's cool to hope for a dance...especially with another, to find associate no shame with my lovemaking capacity. Sometimes, consumed by metrics and scopes, I forget. The young men I work with don't let me...most often by example of their shameless living and loving. Prevention is pretty simple for young men always preparing for their next flirt. They deserve the protection of that joy. I simply offer a few safe options. They get to decide: agency
I often feel that many in ASOs serving gay men have become long-term survivors, not of AIDS itself, but a infrastructure that has sought to manage a disease still infused with heteronormative shame. They struggle against a burden of proof that "gays", still disproportionately affected by HIV in the United States, are worth saving. Mpowerment is an intervention with a foundation, not in explicit testing and condom distribution, but the bold notion that young men who love themselves and affirm their manner of loving, will care enough to protect themselves and those they care about. I heard a song and a poem over the past two days that offered some of the more incredible prevention messages I have experineced... en joy!
Still, spirit is not a deliverable. Joy cannot be quantified. For all our song and spirit, we are stubbornly hopeful if believing that anything beyond numbers will satisfy this burden of proof that gay men are more than HIV risks or sex that so simplistically defines us. For many risings numbers are simply a indicator of the pathology as hypothesis. Our young men are all too often faces, interchangeable and transitory, able to hold the wait of a time when AIDS is a thing of the past. But until then there is the weight of our frustration. We have to prove, mostly to ourselves, that we are worth saving at all.
When I see pictures of the young men I serve each day, it's one of those moments when the numbers become lite and insignificant in the face of hopefulness I aim to nurture. How amazing it is to have found, not a job, but a movement that is a mirror for this journey I continue to stumble into. God always seems to catch me, pick me up when I forget that dying is an option I relinquished because I wanted, more, to live. I go to work, facing metrics and overly-ambitious targets and all, because I feel so incredibly human trying to be superhuman. Sometimes the young brothas I wake to serve remember to bring parts of my confidence with them by admitting they don't know how and expecting me to show them. They simply believe I have something to offer... and so I approximate the dexterity and bravery they expect. It's hopelessness backfiring into hopefulness.
Back in Chicago, I refuel by smiles. I re-energize when I transform anger into action. I get beyond the what-had-happened-was with the what-we-gonna-do-about-it-is... And so we do.
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