Stigma

So, a few weeks ago, an intern from the Stigma Action Network contacted me and asked if I would be interested in writing a guest blog entry for their website. I immediately said yes, and she asked if I could focus on anything that I've experienced so far, internally or externally, which I have felt was stigmatizing. So, I worked on writing something, and my response came in the form of a poem (yeah, I don't know when I decide all the sudden that I'm going to attempt to be a poet lol). My poem about stigma was posted on the Stigma Action Network's blog 2 days ago, but I will also post it here for my readers. Please check out their blog after reading here!

I want to preface this by saying, please read this objectively. Know that I simply wrote honestly and truthfully about what I've experienced so far. I do not intend to offend or hurt anyone in doing so. Please know that just because I have mentioned something or someone here does not mean that I am upset or angry with them. I know that most of this stuff is/was never intentional or meant to be hurtful. But, it did happen. It was said. Stigma is around us, whether intentional or not.

Stigma
Stigma is not just one thing.
Stigma is many things.
It comes in the form of words, thoughts, actions, attitudes, looks, and in my own imagination.
Stigma may be different for you than it is for me.

Stigma is when your uncle says, “Hmmm… I didn’t think we had those kind of people around here”.
When your grandmothers says, “Oh, bi-sexual ones are the worst! They just spread it to everyone!”
When your sister says, “Oh my gosh. I would freak out if my kid’s babysitter had HIV!”

Stigma is when your family and friends suddenly think you are sickly and weaker than everyone else…
“Oh that is a long day… you must be tired.”
“Are you sure you can handle doing that?”
“Oh, you just can’t get up early in the morning anymore.”
“No, we can’t come over if ****** has a cold… we wouldn’t want Jessica to get sick.”

Stigma is when you have to lie or hide things from people out of fear of their reactions.
When you awkwardly have to come up with an excuse during job interviews about why you got sick and had to leave your previous job.
When you have to cover your tracks and delete your browsing history lest your employer find out that you have HIV.
When you must hide your last name from social networking sites so that Google and the whole world can’t find out your secret.

Stigma is when, no matter your level of education, people suddenly see you as stupid and lesser of a person.
When they repeatedly ask you, “How could you have been so stupid to make those mistakes?”
When they assume you must have either been raped or be a drug user or a prostitute.
When a pharmacist or doctor looks and talks down to you.

Stigma is when you see a parent slightly cringe when their child puts his fingers near or in your mouth.
When you notice the startled look on an old friend’s face when you reach to take a sip from his drink.
When someone wonders if they must warn a family friend of your status before bringing you to visit that person’s house.
When people don’t say anything at all because they feel it is awkward or taboo to talk about.

Stigma is when you feel ashamed for being a sexual person.
When you refrain from flirting with someone because you assume it would be a waste of time and just later lead to rejection.
When 67% of people say on a poll that they probably wouldn’t be willing to date you.

Stigma is when you feel guilty for your past choice(s).
When you feel you will always have to attempt to prove yourself and make up for it now.
When the world thinks they know you just because of those 3 letters. H-I-V.
When they don’t care who or what you were before or what you will be after- to them you will always just be HIV.

This is stigma for me.
The little things, whether intentional or not.
The looks, the words, the thoughts, the attitudes.
Most of it stems from fear and a lack of knowledge.
Some of it is just inside me.
I don’t know if it will ever be gone.
It is just there,
And maybe it always will be.