Mea Culpa

One of my favorite things to do while I’m working my way to the bottom of my first bath tub full of coffee in the morning,  is to visit my favorite blogs… those would be:  (even if I am a drag queen and not a lesbian, I’m still a mother… shut yo mowf, bitches! I heard that.)

Blue Truck, Red State  (tho’ the handsome devil who publishes it is taking a breather right now, go ahead and dive into the archives, enjoy!)

Well, today has been kind of a roller-coaster combined with a cluster… um, oh alright. So it was an average day here in the throne room – if there isn’t a clusterfuck running around someplace with my name on it I’d be feeling all neglected and unloved for some reason. Meh! “pssst! Yo, drag queen, ‘rabbit trail’ – get off it!”  … don’t you just hate it when the voices interrupt? Now where was…. a-HA! Bilerico! That’s where I was going with this.

So I had to do my blog-rounds this evening instead, and – as usual – started with Mister Bil. I came across a recent post from one of my favorite writers on that blog, Mr. Mark King, who writes thoughtful and insightful articles on living with HIV. This particular article “Positive vs. Negative: The Truce is Broken” referenced a prior post of his video blog that proved to be controversial for some of his viewers. While I think both of Mark’s posts were excellent, I lost my cool with one of the other “Projectors” in the discussion. I know… me having a hissy fit. Hard to imagine, isn’t it…

Perhaps I bit my fellow Projector’s ass, perhaps I was a bit vicious. Either way, there was one word in his comment that hit me like a brick … next thing you know my fangs are showing, my knuckles hit the floor, and I gave a world-class example of why my drag children call me Mommie Dammit.  With apologies to Bil, Mark, and my victim, I take the liberty of reposting the mess here:

Steve Talbert’s post:
There is no “righteousness” in having a disease. This isn’t religious martrydom. HIV is a preventable condition that some people get by accident or on purpose in combination with how their genes work. Nothing more or less.

People with it should be pitied, not shamed or glorified. People without it should be thankful.

Scotti B – a.k.a. Mommie Dammit rants:
Spare me your pity, Steve. I don’t want it, nor need it. I’m an 18 yr. survivor and the only thing I want from the negative community is for them to get the hell out of my way. I spent the years from 1987 to 1993 fighting this disease and the government’s apathy from the negative side of the fence, from 1993 until now being a royal pain in the ass from the positive side. What do I see from the negatives now? Not much. A handful of glittery fundraisers that, while the money is most welcome, are by-and-large ineffective in moving our nation toward a sane and responsible AIDS policy. Perfect example: if the Reich Wing party has its way in gutting Medicare/Medicaid funding, that will effectively be the death sentence of thousands of people with HIV/AIDS in America. No funding – no treatment, no funding – no meds. If the negative community will not join us in the fight, then get out of the way. I’m not doing this only for myself and other HIV+ people – I’m doing this to save your butt, too.

My sister said I’ve survived this long because I’m too evil a bitch, and death is afraid of me. My grandmother used to say it was because I’m so damned stubborn. My doctors tell me it’s because I’ve been incredibly lucky, and old friends say it’s because I refuse to give up and be a “victim”. I say they’re all right. I am an evil, stubborn bitchy old drag queen. I have been incredibly lucky that my O.I.’s have been few and far between, even though I can almost set my clock by the frequency the virus has mutated on me regardless of my meds compliance. And no, I won’t give up this fight. I also won’t change my life to make the virus the centerpiece of my existence – I won’t be a “victim”, or a “martyr to the cause.” I will be defiant, and I will own my life to the end.

I don’t want your pity. What I want is your respect, and your willingness to see me as a person, not just a person-with-AIDS.



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