By Colleen Schultz, Journalist for several Wisconsin newspapers   

September 1995 – Uh, oh, here come the MPs again. No, I don’t mean Military Police, I mean Mind Police. I recently encountered the MPs during a two-day American Red Cross HIV/AIDS Instructor Training course in a large midwestern city.

We were well into the first day’s training session when one of the instructors, whom I’ll call Mike*, decided we needed more practice overcoming our personal beliefs, values and attitudes so we could be effective HIV/AIDS instructors.

“OK,” Mike said, “we’ve identified lots of roadblocks and buzzwords that convey values or meanings. Now you’re going to say the first word that pops into your head when I say ‘HIV.’”

“Before we start, I want you to remember this is a safe place,” Mike said. “There are no judgments here.”

There were six of us in the training room, all learning how to become HIV/AIDS teachers. If we passed a written and oral exam we would be certified Red Cross instructors. This certification entitled us to put on church, community and school programs under the auspices of the American Red Cross. I hoped to pass the tests. After all, several high school students from our school district had taken this class and were now certified as instructors.

Mike advanced on Davida, a woman who had two HIV infected children and who had a female lover in southwest Wisconsin. “Sad,” Davida intoned, when Mike said “HIV.”

Kathy, who worked for an AIDS support network agency, said “cure” when Mike walked up to her and said the word.

When Mike came to Kent, who had recently lost his “spouse” from AIDS, there was a long silence when he pronounced “HIV.” Kent finally whispered, “pain.”

I liked Mike. Whatever apprehensions I had about this training being simply another politically correct class were vanishing. Reports I had heard about the Red Cross being homosexual and intravenous drug user-friendly were a little exaggerated, I thought.

Mike strolled up to me. “HIV,” he said.

“Fatal,” I said evenly.

This answer seemed to bother Mike a little. “You think HIV is fatal?” he asked, coming closer. He riveted his eyes to mine. He came within inches of my face. Then he turned, walked to the front of the room. Mike set me straight about my verbal blunder. There are many people who have HIV and who have not yet developed AIDS. Furthermore, Mike said he knew of someone who’d been infected with HIV for 14 years and was doing fine.

At this point, the session came to a halt.

Mike seemed anxious to let the rest of the class know the word “fatal” was not a good one. In fact, he picked up his magic marker and included it in the growing list of buzzwords on the easel.

The buzzword list by now included: homosexual transmission, high risk group, tainted blood, Christian, innocent victim, drug addict, full-blown AIDS, unsafe act, dirty needles, prostitution.

SIGNS OF THE TIMES
The next exercise to overcome our personal values brought out the MPs in full force.

Greg, the other Red Cross instructor, joined Mike for this one. We were to stand under signs pasted on the wall that would identify our biases. The signs read “agree, strongly agree, disagree and strongly disagree.”

Before the exercise, Mike and Greg reassured us that this “was a safe environment.” We were encouraged to feel free to express ourselves and our true feelings.

We all stood and moved around under the signs as the questions or statements were read to us. My statement to respond to was: “Condoms should always be used when someone has sex.”

I walked to the “disagree” spot. It grew suddenly quiet.

“Ok,” Greg said. “We want to know just why you disagree.”

I’ll admit I was getting a little flustered. “Well, married people wouldn’t necessarily need to use a condom, would they?” My voice fell on the thickly carpeted floor, echoed dully off the posters used for school, church and community programs.

I looked at one of the prevention posters that listed things not to do to avoid HIV/ AIDS. It said, “Don’t Share Sex Toys” in large block letters. I wondered what sex toys were. You could hear a pin drop.

“What does it mean to have sex?” Mike asked.

“What about female to female relationships?” Greg joined in. The others in the group stared at me. Mike said some people couldn’t be married. Kent, the guy who had lost his lover to AIDS, looked at me accusingly.

Then Greg began to pace up and down. “What is marriage?” he asked the group, halting midway between the posters and me.

The silence was broken. Answers fl ew thick and fast – “A piece of paper.” “A signed legal contract.”

Everyone was less tense now. Mike walked up to the easel and wrote “marriage” in bold strokes on the buzzword list. “You must separate the disease from social issues,” he said. He looked intently at me. Wow, Big Brother is watching me, I thought.

Maybe I’ll be vaporized for being a Thought Criminal, I reflected. George Orwell’s novel 1984 about “thought police” and “newspeak” from my college days came to mind.

We also learned the term “innocent victim” was a no-no. Babies and children who become infected with HIV are no more innocent than anyone else. This implies that someone is innocent and someone is guilty, Greg explained. Strangely, there were some words the MPs thought were perfectly OK.

For our next exercise, we had to find someone in the room who had: Used a condom, been to a gay bar, invited both gays and straight people to parties, and who knew what “rimming” was.

I didn’t know what rimming was.

I asked Patty, a Family Planning employee. She blushed. She told me. I blushed.

Sorry, I can’t repeat it here. Nor can I tell you what sex toys are. Family (oops, that’s a buzzword, too) publications generally don’t use such language. You’ll have to go to the next American Red Cross HIV/AIDS Instructor Course to find out.

Just beware, though. Big Brother and the MPs may be watching you.  

* All actual names have been changed