Growing up I had no choice regarding my faith. It was thrust upon me the day I was born, when I was baptized a Catholic and raised as one. I was taught that nightly prayers would keep me safe, the number of rice that fell on the floor would equal the number of years I would spend in Purgatory for wasting food, and that any wound gotten during Holy Week would never heal until after Easter Sunday. It was a faith fueled by fear of punishment and a promise of future everlasting happiness.
As I grew older, the simple lessons of black and white gave way to the grays of moral complexity. Theology and Philosophy made the Catholic faith less clear-cut, though it remained rigid. Ironic? Some of my Jesuit priests and teachers taught me to question the very faith that was ingrained in me.
But the turning point was when I realized that I was gay. As a kid I was deathly afraid to be gay. Gays were mocked and laughed at; gays led sad lives; gays lived on the edge of society. Realizing that I might be who I feared to be was a shock; but eventually it forced me to face it. Accepting it required courage and a certain degree of self-deprecating humor. And if I can question myself, I can question everything taught to me, including religion.
The more I questioned, the more I found hope. Perhaps what I was taught wasn’t true. Perhaps the Church can change its stand. Perhaps the God I choose to believe in is a more embracing, accepting God.
Eventually I also was exposed to other forms of faith. And seeing how different folks had different strokes, it became clear to me that the Church and its faithful had no monopoly on the truth. What is the truth? Who knows? Faith requires a leap from logic; with that, all bets are off. So who’s right or wrong? Or who’s more right or more wrong? Such questions become irrelevant.
What is more relevant is living together peacefully despite the differences. It calls for mature tolerance and a live-and-let-live acceptance of our differences. It requires us to not just be open-minded but also to throw our hearts wide open to others. It’s an unlimited loving kindness to all others; in Christian theology, that’s called charity.
So I say, let’s be charitable to those who insist on calling Pro-RH Bill supporters as “Satan” and deserving of abortion. Perhaps they’re still reeling from the shock of the Pope’s recent pronouncements regarding condoms. To question long-standing faith is a painful process. Let’s hope they make it.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Ensemble Heroes
I grew up in theater. From grade school to high school all the way to college, I chose theater as my extra-curricular activity. I kept at it even though I knew I was not going to do theater full-time after I graduated. I did theater because I loved it. And I still do.
When I was in Basic Advertising, our chairman (the late) Mr. Antonio Mercado said he always had a bias for hiring those who have had theater experience, because he felt that theater teaches important and practical lessons that people can use in work and in life after college—teamwork, excellence, pride in one’s work, creativity, flexibility and improvisation, to name a few.
Dr. Ricardo Abad, the moderator of Tanghalang Ateneo, recently wrote a piece about Ateneo theater; specifically, the students who do theater. These students do it for the love of, because there is no monetary compensation. They don’t do it for a living; they do it because it makes them feel alive.
Reading it brought back so many fond memories. But more than that, Dr. Abad was able to articulate theater’s social nature and its heroic demands.
* * * * *
exerpts from ATENEO THEATER: HEROISM OF THE ENSEMBLE
by Ricardo G. Abad
(posted with permission from the author)
Addressing the Ateneo de Manila’s graduating class of 2009, Chris Lowney says that leaders aren’t always those persons who take charge, command great wealth, or appear often on television. Leaders, he argues, can be anyone – you or I, a student or teacher, a child or parent, an employee or employer – any person who can “move out into the world to find ever new ways to construct the edifice, cultivate the garden, and paint that masterpiece that God is unfolding in your life.” Lux in Domino. Light in the Lord. Leaders are women and men who light the way forward for others.
Heroes are leaders too. They are not always those persons who are endowed with power, possessions, or popularity. They are also persons who lead ordinary and unspectacular lives. And they are also men and women who light the way forward for others. But not all leaders are heroes. What sets heroes apart is the way they shine that light against overwhelming odds, many times at great risk to life and limb, and for a cause infinitely greater than themselves.
My mind draws to these kinds of local heroes – unknown, unspectacular, unsung.
I recall, most fondly, the many students who kept Ateneo theater alive since I joined Tanghalang Ateneo twenty-five years ago. These students, working onstage and offstage, are not your high-profile Ateneans – like the Sanggunian officer, for example, or the varsity athlete, the champion debater, the Guidon editor, or the consistent Dean’s Lister. They stand on the average side of academics, unsure of what they’ll do after college, but wishing that whatever work they do later will still allow them to do theater. They’re not poor but are often short of cash. They’re not professionals but knowledgeable about many things. They’re not lunatics but act screwy during cast parties. Several say that their parents aren’t too keen about their involvement in the theater; their parents, the students say, fear that too much theater jeopardizes their children’s chances to secure well-paying jobs, endangers their grades, or distort their sexual preference. Several add that the Administration, not understanding what it takes to do theater, makes miniscule improvements on available venues and imposes too many rules. They also claim that the absence of an honest-to-goodness theater that they can call their own shows how little value is placed on what they consider a vital part of their college life. The gripes echo year after year.
But the gripes recede when a production’s afoot. Deadlines are made, and students put in the hours. There’s a set to build and paint, lights to wire, props to construct, costumes to sew, materials to buy from Divisoria or Kamuning, and for actors, lines and movement to memorize. Other members are called to help but often the task is left to the few, the heroic ones, who’ll finish the work on time. Like the two students who stayed up with me most of the night to make a gigantic mask for a Shakespeare play. Like the student who was in charge of sponsorships: she went to her parents’ bowling league tournament one night and passed a hat, asking donations from bowlers and their families. She collected twenty thousand pesos that night.
The job gets tougher on tours. Working under battle conditions, and in unfamiliar venues, and after long bus rides, the students set up the stage late into the night and groggily run a show the next morning to thousands of students. Beyond stage work is social work, like giving confidence-building and drama workshops to the public high school students of Pathways every summer – a project that always elicits joy despite the long hours of work.
These students are not paid for their labor. Nor are they required to put in long hours as a requirement for graduation. But they continue to sweat, slog, and struggle. Academic obligations – a midterm exam, long test, or paper – often intrude, but do not deter them from plowing through, knowing that the show will flop if they don’t cut their share of the work. So they manage their time as best they can, if they ever do, and leap into the fray. Many, happily, survive. Rarely with a grade of A, but they pass. Hallelujah!
Some risk their health. Many spend sleepless nights to finish a script, loop music, complete a report, design a poster, compose letters, layout the playbill, or edit a video. Several get sick before a performance. But a flu, vertigo, sore throat, severe cold, or abdominal pain isn’t enough to prevent these actors from stepping onstage and giving it all. One slipped a disk in the middle of a scene, grimacing in pain on his exit; he returned onstage after intermission with a brace around his waist. Another actor, I learned after a show, stepped on a stray nail backstage just before his entrance. Biting his tongue, he entered the scene, hobbling his way through the final dance sequence. All got well, praise God, thanks to immediate treatment after the show. But the real cure came from a surge of dedication that numbed the pain, pushed up the energy, and restored the humors. I suspect basketball players injured on the hard court, and rising to play again, experience something similar.
But like winning basketball teams, the heroism of the theater does not rest on one person. Theater is a supremely collaborative act and the grind to transform the mundane to the magical requires the intense dedication of a collective – the heroism of the ensemble. That heroism is what makes an opening night special: it’s the triumph of many heroic deeds that took place from the first day of rehearsal to the minute before the opening show. It’s an occasion deserving of revelry, hugs, and thanksgiving.
And that’s why any achievement I’ve made as director isn’t mine alone to keep. And I’m sure the Ateneo directors before me – Irwin, Reuter, Pagsanghan, Tinio, and Saludo to name some – feel the same way. We wouldn’t be around were it not for the heroism of students who helped us to mount one production after another, year after year. And this collective heroism doesn’t happen only in Tanghalang Ateneo. It’s the same guts and glory scene in Entablado, Blue Repertory, Dulaang Sibol, Teatro Bagong Tao, and the Ateneo Children’s Theater. And I’m certain it’s the same story with drama companies of Ateneo’s past –the salon de actos of Intramuros, the Ateneo Dramatics Guild of Padre Faura, and the Ateneo Players Theater, the Ateneo Experimental Theater, the Ateneo Playhouse, and the Teatro Uno Dos Tres of Loyola Heights. For 150 years, the Ateneo de Manila University has kept the theater alive through two colonial regimes, the Commonwealth Period, the Japanese Occupation, Independence and right through the present covering martial law, EDSA, Manny Pacquiao, and the Maguindanao Massacre. And who kept it going? The students of course, the heroes of the theater: the heroism of the ensemble runs across the University’s history, kicking alive in the Ateneo even before there was basketball!
In his book Heroic Leadership, Chris Lowney said that the Jesuits (and he does not mean specific Jesuits but the collective, the Society of Jesus) did not become successful leaders (and heroes too!) simply by committing themselves to religious beliefs but by the way they lived and worked. “And their way of living,” Lowney adds, “holds value for everyone, whatever his or her creed.” That’s the way the heroism of the theater ensemble survived in the Ateneo since the Escuela Municipal opened in 1859. By living and working in the theater, Ateneo theater artists of one generation inspired the next generation of theater artists to lose oneself to a greater and most fulfilling cause. That heroism is infectious and the bug still bites today.
Lowney has just ended his commencement speech, and it was my turn as master of ceremonies to step into the podium to announce the next number of the program. As I did so, I looked at the faces of the graduating class, trying to spot the faces of my theater heroes whom I had the joy of working with during the last four years. I saw a few and saluted them with my heart. I walked down from the hill of that graduation stage, the Ateneo hymn reverberating around me, and headed to a drinking place in Katipunan where younger Ateneo theater artists, soon to be full-pledged heroes, sat with a bucket of beer before them, waiting for me to reveal my plans for the next season and their place in the scheme of things.
The bug still bites, I told you.
(Written January 2010 for a forthcoming publication on Ateneo Heroes, a book prepared in honor of the Ateneo de Manila University’s Sesquicentennial Year. The book will be launched on Tuesday, November 30, 5pm at the Leong Auditorium.)
(Photo taken from Facebook.)
When I was in Basic Advertising, our chairman (the late) Mr. Antonio Mercado said he always had a bias for hiring those who have had theater experience, because he felt that theater teaches important and practical lessons that people can use in work and in life after college—teamwork, excellence, pride in one’s work, creativity, flexibility and improvisation, to name a few.
Dr. Ricardo Abad, the moderator of Tanghalang Ateneo, recently wrote a piece about Ateneo theater; specifically, the students who do theater. These students do it for the love of, because there is no monetary compensation. They don’t do it for a living; they do it because it makes them feel alive.
Reading it brought back so many fond memories. But more than that, Dr. Abad was able to articulate theater’s social nature and its heroic demands.
* * * * *
exerpts from ATENEO THEATER: HEROISM OF THE ENSEMBLE
by Ricardo G. Abad
(posted with permission from the author)
Heroes are leaders too. They are not always those persons who are endowed with power, possessions, or popularity. They are also persons who lead ordinary and unspectacular lives. And they are also men and women who light the way forward for others. But not all leaders are heroes. What sets heroes apart is the way they shine that light against overwhelming odds, many times at great risk to life and limb, and for a cause infinitely greater than themselves.
My mind draws to these kinds of local heroes – unknown, unspectacular, unsung.
I recall, most fondly, the many students who kept Ateneo theater alive since I joined Tanghalang Ateneo twenty-five years ago. These students, working onstage and offstage, are not your high-profile Ateneans – like the Sanggunian officer, for example, or the varsity athlete, the champion debater, the Guidon editor, or the consistent Dean’s Lister. They stand on the average side of academics, unsure of what they’ll do after college, but wishing that whatever work they do later will still allow them to do theater. They’re not poor but are often short of cash. They’re not professionals but knowledgeable about many things. They’re not lunatics but act screwy during cast parties. Several say that their parents aren’t too keen about their involvement in the theater; their parents, the students say, fear that too much theater jeopardizes their children’s chances to secure well-paying jobs, endangers their grades, or distort their sexual preference. Several add that the Administration, not understanding what it takes to do theater, makes miniscule improvements on available venues and imposes too many rules. They also claim that the absence of an honest-to-goodness theater that they can call their own shows how little value is placed on what they consider a vital part of their college life. The gripes echo year after year.
But the gripes recede when a production’s afoot. Deadlines are made, and students put in the hours. There’s a set to build and paint, lights to wire, props to construct, costumes to sew, materials to buy from Divisoria or Kamuning, and for actors, lines and movement to memorize. Other members are called to help but often the task is left to the few, the heroic ones, who’ll finish the work on time. Like the two students who stayed up with me most of the night to make a gigantic mask for a Shakespeare play. Like the student who was in charge of sponsorships: she went to her parents’ bowling league tournament one night and passed a hat, asking donations from bowlers and their families. She collected twenty thousand pesos that night.
The job gets tougher on tours. Working under battle conditions, and in unfamiliar venues, and after long bus rides, the students set up the stage late into the night and groggily run a show the next morning to thousands of students. Beyond stage work is social work, like giving confidence-building and drama workshops to the public high school students of Pathways every summer – a project that always elicits joy despite the long hours of work.
These students are not paid for their labor. Nor are they required to put in long hours as a requirement for graduation. But they continue to sweat, slog, and struggle. Academic obligations – a midterm exam, long test, or paper – often intrude, but do not deter them from plowing through, knowing that the show will flop if they don’t cut their share of the work. So they manage their time as best they can, if they ever do, and leap into the fray. Many, happily, survive. Rarely with a grade of A, but they pass. Hallelujah!
Some risk their health. Many spend sleepless nights to finish a script, loop music, complete a report, design a poster, compose letters, layout the playbill, or edit a video. Several get sick before a performance. But a flu, vertigo, sore throat, severe cold, or abdominal pain isn’t enough to prevent these actors from stepping onstage and giving it all. One slipped a disk in the middle of a scene, grimacing in pain on his exit; he returned onstage after intermission with a brace around his waist. Another actor, I learned after a show, stepped on a stray nail backstage just before his entrance. Biting his tongue, he entered the scene, hobbling his way through the final dance sequence. All got well, praise God, thanks to immediate treatment after the show. But the real cure came from a surge of dedication that numbed the pain, pushed up the energy, and restored the humors. I suspect basketball players injured on the hard court, and rising to play again, experience something similar.
But like winning basketball teams, the heroism of the theater does not rest on one person. Theater is a supremely collaborative act and the grind to transform the mundane to the magical requires the intense dedication of a collective – the heroism of the ensemble. That heroism is what makes an opening night special: it’s the triumph of many heroic deeds that took place from the first day of rehearsal to the minute before the opening show. It’s an occasion deserving of revelry, hugs, and thanksgiving.
And that’s why any achievement I’ve made as director isn’t mine alone to keep. And I’m sure the Ateneo directors before me – Irwin, Reuter, Pagsanghan, Tinio, and Saludo to name some – feel the same way. We wouldn’t be around were it not for the heroism of students who helped us to mount one production after another, year after year. And this collective heroism doesn’t happen only in Tanghalang Ateneo. It’s the same guts and glory scene in Entablado, Blue Repertory, Dulaang Sibol, Teatro Bagong Tao, and the Ateneo Children’s Theater. And I’m certain it’s the same story with drama companies of Ateneo’s past –the salon de actos of Intramuros, the Ateneo Dramatics Guild of Padre Faura, and the Ateneo Players Theater, the Ateneo Experimental Theater, the Ateneo Playhouse, and the Teatro Uno Dos Tres of Loyola Heights. For 150 years, the Ateneo de Manila University has kept the theater alive through two colonial regimes, the Commonwealth Period, the Japanese Occupation, Independence and right through the present covering martial law, EDSA, Manny Pacquiao, and the Maguindanao Massacre. And who kept it going? The students of course, the heroes of the theater: the heroism of the ensemble runs across the University’s history, kicking alive in the Ateneo even before there was basketball!
In his book Heroic Leadership, Chris Lowney said that the Jesuits (and he does not mean specific Jesuits but the collective, the Society of Jesus) did not become successful leaders (and heroes too!) simply by committing themselves to religious beliefs but by the way they lived and worked. “And their way of living,” Lowney adds, “holds value for everyone, whatever his or her creed.” That’s the way the heroism of the theater ensemble survived in the Ateneo since the Escuela Municipal opened in 1859. By living and working in the theater, Ateneo theater artists of one generation inspired the next generation of theater artists to lose oneself to a greater and most fulfilling cause. That heroism is infectious and the bug still bites today.
Lowney has just ended his commencement speech, and it was my turn as master of ceremonies to step into the podium to announce the next number of the program. As I did so, I looked at the faces of the graduating class, trying to spot the faces of my theater heroes whom I had the joy of working with during the last four years. I saw a few and saluted them with my heart. I walked down from the hill of that graduation stage, the Ateneo hymn reverberating around me, and headed to a drinking place in Katipunan where younger Ateneo theater artists, soon to be full-pledged heroes, sat with a bucket of beer before them, waiting for me to reveal my plans for the next season and their place in the scheme of things.
The bug still bites, I told you.
(Written January 2010 for a forthcoming publication on Ateneo Heroes, a book prepared in honor of the Ateneo de Manila University’s Sesquicentennial Year. The book will be launched on Tuesday, November 30, 5pm at the Leong Auditorium.)
(Photo taken from Facebook.)
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
The Winds Of Change Are Blowing 2
I am neither surprised nor saddened when I saw opponents of the Reproductive Health Bill (RH Bill) screaming, “Begone, Satan!” and “Your mother should have aborted you!” at the supporters of the Bill. When long-held beliefs are questioned and challenged, it is but natural for people to be on the defensive, perhaps behave immaturely, and even resort to name-calling. The scene actually reminded me of kids at a playground, when one side can’t win an argument and so they resort to teasing and taunting instead. When their “sacred” beliefs are challenged, they close their minds instead of arguing things through.
But we all know what happens to those kids who resort to name-calling and cruel teasing.
Their days are numbered. Reality is catching up with them; even the Pope has already relaxed his views on condom use. I never thought I’d say this, but maybe, just maybe, I may actually live to see major changes on the Catholic Church’s teachings regarding—Gasp! Dare I say it?—homosexuality.
Also, this is the reason why I rarely hold anything as “sacred.” At the back of my mind there’s always a nagging thought, “What if I’m wrong?” I’m not saying we should live untethered lives. Rather, we should always keep an open mind on things, and be willing to consider the possibility that one day the rug we are standing on may just suddenly be pulled from under our feet. Yes, even the idea that “nothing is sacred” shouldn’t be held sacred. Be skeptical even of skepticism.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Euphemisms
One time my friend G and I were recording a message for our friend D who’s in the U.S. (instead of sending him email, we send a voice recording). We got to talking about me and my current status.
G: So how are you two? How many months has it been? Have you had issues?
McV: Yeah, we have had issues—including sex.
G: Oh… that’s interesting!
McV: Kasi he’s friskier and I’m older… and mas kailangan ko na ng more lead-time…
(We both laugh.)
McV: …and I need more…
G: Time to recharge?
McV: …time for intermission.
G: Oh, I see! Sometimes ba they like it in succession?
McV: Ay, well, it’s easier for the young ones to have shorter gaps in between songs. Minsan nga parang gusto nila, medley!
(We both laugh.)
McV: Eh ang hirap n’un! Mas kaya ko pa siguro, mash-up!
(We both laugh again.)
McV: At saka, mas gusto ko na ngayon yung extended play, yung 12-inch…
G: (mock indignation) Oh my god, 12 inches ang gusto mo?! (laughs)
McV: …hindi! 12-inch remix, gaga! You know, you take longer to play the whole song out. It should be like The Beatles’ “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” album. Or Pink Floyd’s “The Wall.”
G: (impressed) Ooooooohhh!
McV: (suddenly realization) Ay, wait a minute! Mali ako. Double album pala ang “The Wall.” (laughs)
G: Ay, matagal-tagal yun ha! (laughs)
McV: Oo, sobra! Sobra pala.
G: Are you boasting? (laugh)
McV: No, that’s over-promise! (laughs) That’s called advertising!
(We both laugh)
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Ho, Ho, Whoa!
A beki’s essential Christmas three under his Christmas tree.
Threesome books are now available at the following National Bookstore branches:
Metro Manila
Alabang
Cubao (Superbranch)
Ermita
Glorietta 5
Greenbelt
Katipunan
Market Market
Mall of Asia
Megamall
North EDSA
North EDSA Bestseller
Ortigas Galleria
Ortigas Bestseller
Podium Bestseller
Quezon Avenue
Rockwell
Shangri-la
SM Manila
SM Marikina
St. Luke's Bestseller
Taft Avenue
Trinoma
UP North
Luzon
Legaspi
SM Baguio
SM Lipa
SM Pampanga
Subic
Visayas
Ayala Cebu
Mango-Cebu
Robinsons Iloilo
SM Cebu
SM Bacolod
Mindanao
Davao Gaisano
SM Davao
NBS Cagayan de Oro
Limited edition box sets are only available at:
IBON Bookstore
IBON Center, 114 Timog Ave., Quezon City, 1103 Philippines
Telephone numbers: +632 9277060 to 62
Or order online www.mybookstore.ph
Threesome books are now available at the following National Bookstore branches:
Metro Manila
Alabang
Cubao (Superbranch)
Ermita
Glorietta 5
Greenbelt
Katipunan
Market Market
Mall of Asia
Megamall
North EDSA
North EDSA Bestseller
Ortigas Galleria
Ortigas Bestseller
Podium Bestseller
Quezon Avenue
Rockwell
Shangri-la
SM Manila
SM Marikina
St. Luke's Bestseller
Taft Avenue
Trinoma
UP North
Luzon
Legaspi
SM Baguio
SM Lipa
SM Pampanga
Subic
Visayas
Ayala Cebu
Mango-Cebu
Robinsons Iloilo
SM Cebu
SM Bacolod
Mindanao
Davao Gaisano
SM Davao
NBS Cagayan de Oro
Limited edition box sets are only available at:
IBON Bookstore
IBON Center, 114 Timog Ave., Quezon City, 1103 Philippines
Telephone numbers: +632 9277060 to 62
Or order online www.mybookstore.ph
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
If You Pass The Test You Can Beat The Rest
D and I decided to take the test together; furthermore, D also invited his two gay friends (V and K) to join us. So there we were, a 44-yr old together with an 18-, 19- and 20-yr old braving the Monday afternoon Makati traffic. We were advised to go there around 2pm, so that there won’t be that many people.
The Social Hygiene Clinic is located on the 7th floor of the City Hall. There’s always a long line at the elevators, so patience is needed. While we were waiting for our turn at the elevator, we were all joking and laughing and generally trying to ward off the worry and the fear. D asked me if I was okay; he usually does that when he notices me going all quiet and serious. I had put on my Take-Charge McVie; being the oldest made me feel responsible for my three companions.
From the elevators on the 7th floor, the clinic is the third door on the right; there’s a big sign that says, “Social Hygiene Clinic.” We went in and were greeted by 5 or 6 women seated around two desks by the entrance. They all looked at us, but none of them moved or said anything. For a moment I was speechless. They looked like they saw aliens; their facial expressions read, “Hey! We have people. So soon after lunch break?”
I spoke first. “We’re looking for Ms. Tess Pagcaliwagan,” I said. A portly, middle-aged woman with curly salt-and-pepper hair and wearing thick eyeglasses asked, “Why are you looking for her?” she asked. In my nervousness I answered, “We’re here to take the AIDS test.” A pause, and then I corrected myself: “I mean, the HIV test!” And to break the awkwardness, I added, “Hindi pa yata full-blown kami.”
The nurses turned out to be friendly and accommodating, especially when they realized the three were young beklettes. Ms. Tess had us fill up forms; they never asked us for our IDs, so technically you could use a pseudonym on your form. But I chose to write my real name. If I turn out positive, I wanted it to be on the record. She then sat us down one by one for a short interview and orientation. She asked me primarily how I found out about the voluntary test. She also clarified that several other cities aside from Makati (I remember Marikina in particular) that offered this free testing.
Then came the waiting. I asked Ms. Tess how long the results would take. She said in 15 minutes. (It was that fast because no one was ahead of us.) But really, it was the waiting that was the hardest. I mean, I am fairly confident that I’ve played safe all this time, but you still won’t really know, right? Life can throw a really mean curveball if and when it wants to.
At first we were joking, but soon our talks turned a little serious. “If you turn out positive, do you think it’s a punishment from God?” V asked out loud.
From her desk, Ms. Tess immediately responded, “Hoy! That’s misinformation! That’s not true.” We fell silent then changed the topic.
Around 15 minutes later, a nurse stepped out of the lab with four folded pieces of paper. She handed them to Ms. Tess, who then called out our names one by one. “V!” she said, and V nervously approached her desk and sat before her. We couldn’t hear what she was saying, but from the smile of V’s face when he stood up afterwards told us that his test result was negative. The next to be called was K. He too left Ms. Tess’ desk smiling.
I was the third to be called. When I approached her, she just said, “Congratulations! Here’s your diploma!” and handed to me a piece of paper; written on it was the word “non-reactive.” She reminded me to still always play safe, and that I should take the test every six months.
D also turned out negative.
Afterwards, all four of us wanted to celebrate by gobbling up KFC’s Double Down. We’re afraid of dying due to complications from AIDS, but we’ll happily die of a heart attack due to clogged arteries.
* * * * *
Interested to get tested? Please do so. HIV is on the rise, especially among men who have sex with men. Better get tested twice, with the second one after 6 months. Testing is really easy and the results are confidential. Is the testing discrete? Well, the clinics are found in the city hall, so there are lots of people roaming around. If you bump into someone you know, just be prepared with an alibi. “I’m here to pay my land tax,” if you bump into each other somewhere within city hall. “I’m accompanying my friend,” if they bump into you inside the clinic (or you can always turn the tables on them and ask, “And what are you doing here too?”).
For more information, click on this link.
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