Doctor Mehret

I went to the Frida Kahlo exhibit at the Philadelphia Museum of Art this weekend. It was heavy. Frida is a woman whose intensity transcends time and space. Her subjectivity was the center of her art. Walking through the exhibit made me think of the countless stories I have been trying to translate that sit at the crossroads of HIV, gender, race, and love. Frida had been through it but she had staying power.

In the audio portion of the exhibit, the Chicana artist and cultural critic Amalia Mesa-Bains made the point of distinguishing what Frida represented to Chicanas versus women at large. To the Chicanas, Frida represented the spirit of resilience and “brava”. Whereas the perceptions in the broader women’s community was Frida as an icon of suffering. It’s interesting how audience defines the narrative. What is the lesson to teach?

For stories of HIV, race, gender and love… brava is the only way forward.

One of my favorite patients from the South Bronx tracked me down in Philadelphia. She was a young girl with a story to tell. Not sure why she thought her doctor would be a good person to try to tell her story. But I have signed up for the challenge.

Since I don’t see her in my clinic office anymore, we mostly stay in touch over the phone. She calls to check in at the oddest times and usually with an update about her love life. During one of my visits back to NYC I met up with her and tried to schedule her to see a colleague of mine at an adolescent health clinic. But she wasn’t interested. All she wanted to do was talk. Sometimes talking is the way we heal, especially if no one is listening.

So, that is what I do for her now. I listen and try to give advice. Every phone call has to end with “later” and not “good-bye,” because good-bye means forever in her words. She called today and I was feeling particularly annoyed that she wouldn’t and hadn’t gone to see a doctor for a check-up. She told me she already had a doctor in me. I told her, “you need more than just talk.” She said, “it’s not talk, it’s love.”

I smiled… Later D.

TruthAIDS has a community partnership in Philadelphia with the Prevention of AIDS through Live Movement and Sound (PALMS) project. PALMS uses actors to teach about HIV prevention via role plays of very sticky life situations to at-risk youth. I accompany them on all their interventions and help out with answering questions from the youth regarding HIV. I also help out with testing and counseling after the interventions if needed and am working on strategies to help scale-up their efforts.

The intervention consists of 3 consecutive mornings of education with single-gender groups. The last round took place last week. The second day ends in a keep-it-real session which is similar to a TruthAIDS exercise called a TruthCircle. The session was extra real. Abuse, addiction, and difficult discussions with mothers and daughters were the themes of discussion. One of the participants didn’t say a word throughout the three days. She was extra quiet, I thought she had tuned us out and didn’t really care.

Fast forward, one week later. I receive a call today. “Miss… I don’t know if you remember me but I am one of the girls from the E3 center.” It was her, the quiet girl. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot and how much you care.” I listened. “Well you kinda look different and I only know one other person who looks like you and it’s my manager at the job. Anyhow, I got to talking about all the things you said about how stuff here and where you was born is actually worse. My manager be sayin the same thing and she really wants to meet you. I figure you guys are from the same part of town and all and she really cares too…” Well how did you get my number I asked? “I called the E3 center and asked the directors who had the number of the doctor who was around talking to us. I am at the job now and I just wanted to put my manager on the phone so you could connect.” I chuckled realizing she had not tuned me out at all. She was just listening really hard and making her own connections because she cared.

Turns out her manager was Ethiopian too and worked in human services organizations in Philadelphia. We talked about servicing unmet needs and laughed at the odd ways connections get made. I gave her my website info and told her she had a sweet employee. And just like that, the TruthAIDS family grows. Thanks quiet girl.

A woman’s will must always be respected. This was the walk away lesson from an amazing event that I had the good fortune of speaking at in Brooklyn, NY this past weekend. The YWCHC is my favorite NYC community coalition and one that my own non-profit TruthAIDS has been supporting and collaborating with for over a year. I spoke at their first annual health summit last year and was blown away at the dialogue and exchange. Issues of domestic violence were bubbling from the girls so TruthAIDS jointly sponsored an event that was a follow-up to the obvious need to heal and speak about these issues. One of the TruthAIDS Directors, Sarah Lewis, who is spearheading the Expressive Rights programming for TruthAIDS, led the follow-up conversation with the girls. The girls loved Sarah and she loved them. It was a memorable evening for all.

This summit was no different, just bigger. There were over 150 young women in attendance and 54 of them got HIV tested. Go YWCHC. At the end of the summit, a peer education hip-hop theater group called THEO gave an amazing performance about the complicated realities of child sexual abuse in the family. There is nothing like art to communicate about the difficult situations in life that take you beyond words.

I interviewed many of the girls and took some pictures that I will soon post. However, I walked away from the event thinking deeply about a young women’s will. It’s amazing how often young women find themselves in situations where no does not mean no. Beyond the atrocities of physical assault and rape that cannot be talked about enough, there is the land of emotional abuse which insidiously and deeply penetrates all spheres of a young women’s life. No means no here too. Yet, the world is often hell bent on convincing a young women why someone else’s desires/will is best for her and her visions for her life. As one of the girls I interviewed put it…” sometimes being nice enough to listen to somebody is all it takes for them to think they can do whatever they want.” Therein lies the tragedy. Being nice enough to listen is what we should all do for each other. Being nice is not the problem. It’s not listening and being selfish enough to do it your way anyway. Keep your heads up ladies… where there is a will, there is a way.

I spent yesterday with a remarkable man by the name of David Jenkins. He invited me to Easter Sunday services and I admit, if it wasn’t for him, I likely would not have been in church - much to the chagrin of my mother. David is a piano player in two different churches in Philadelphia and has the spirit of an angel. It is appropriate that he sets the mood for spiritual services. He’s a gentle giant with joyful wisdom that is constantly erupting. David has a lot to teach the world and is a walking testimony. His medical ailments are life-threatening but not to his spirit. I am lucky he has given me the permission to document his life and share it with the world.

I found him unexpectedly. I was helping a dear friend/mentor move out of a long-established office space when he walked in the room to help out with the moving party. I liked him instantly. He was all smiles and lightened the mood to an otherwise drab atmosphere. There is nothing more stressful than moving. Ever since then, talking with David or spending time with him means all smiles from an eternal place. He has seen more than his share of pain and illness and reminds me of a patient I lost two years ago who exemplified the same depth of peace and joy despite it all. I think telling his story is going to finally allow me to heal from trying to tell hers. Life is cyclical like that. If your heart is open… just the right people walk in at just the right time. David thinks he needs me to tell his story and leave a legacy. But truth of the matter is I think I need him to begin telling mine.