On Being HIV+ Like Magic Johnson

In November 1991, Magic Johnson shocked the world when he announced his HIV status in a press conference that became one of those "where were you?" moments in television history.

Where was I? Glued to the TV like most people that day. Only unlike most people watching, I, too, was like Magic, with the "HIV virus living inside my body," as the legendary LA Laker put it.

Below is a reprint of my reaction to that moment in time, an essay that ran in Frontiers magazine in December 1991, followed by a 2008 perspective.

Just Like Magic

My brother, homeboy to the core, dope dealer, father of (at least) three out-of-wedlock babies to three different flygirls, asks me on the phone: “So you got the same thing Magic’s got?”

He and the world have known about Magic Johnson for a hot second, as my mother would put it. He’s known about me for several months; this is the first time my brother has mentioned AIDS since he learned I was positive.

Taking up the old roles of our destructive sibling rivalry, we get into a shouting rage on the phone: He proclaims that Magic and I are receiving our own separate punishments for our own separate unpardonable crimes against the Bible (while it’s perfectly permissible for him to sell dope and have unwedded—and unsafe—sex as long as he asks for the Lord’s forgiveness every night). Then he’s shocked to learn that sometimes there’s a part of my exhausted soul that wants to die because I’m sick and tired of living in a world that hates blacks, gays and people with AIDS.

"I can only pray that some of the drugs and compassion trickle down to me."

Later that night, on Arsenio, Magic makes it clear that he is “far from homosexual” and gets an approving round of applause from the woofers packing the audience. Then he goes on to talk about HIV this and HIV that and the virus blah blah blah and how he’s going to become a spokesman for HIV. (Did anybody ask HIV if it wanted a spokesman?)

Earlier in the day, the big burly men with blue blazers and baritone voices on ESPN’s SportsCenter went on and on about AIDS activists' hailing Magic’s courage, the medical prognosis for victims, the debate over testing. Where were the sports scores, the highlights, the slam dunks, the high fives?

Strangers in a strange land, they seemed to me, Magic and the legions of reporters, using words I live and breathe every day, words I’ve lived and breathed for seemingly a lifetime now. It was perverse yet vindicating, flabbergasting yet fleeting. I mean, here was the world, finally dealing with what I’ve had to deal with every second of every hour of every day.

Magic’s claiming straight, and while I’m not saying he’s lying, it’s entirely possible we’re still experiencing some denial, as un-American as it is to let this thought pass through my lips. As longtime Lakers announcer Chick Hearn warned with the glassy-eyed sternness of a bullish heavyweight: “Of all the ways he could have gotten it, don’t think the wrong way.” Right way? Wrong way?

" I just wish I knew the whole truth."

They’re all strangers talking. And they still don’t care about me. To the world, Magic Johnson is one of the innocent victims, like the babies. From Rome, George Bush called him a hero. From Kennebunkport weeks earlier, he dismissed the outcries of AIDS activists who were fighting for the same thing Magic must now fight for: life.

The score is now AIDS 1, Gays 0. Yes, this may prove good for research, awareness, drug protocol, testing, etc., but as a gay man, I haven’t gained a thing. As a gay man with HIV, I can only pray that some of the drugs and compassion trickle down to me. To the doubters: let’s see if Magic Johnson stands side by side with a gay man on the HIV continuum and acknowledges and accepts that man’s sexuality without the slightest hint of judgment. Remember—and they’ll constantly remind us—he didn’t get it the wrong way; its was some dirty woman’s fault, just like Eve.

Yet I know how horrible and terrifying it is to find out this bomb is ticking inside; and I’ve seen the helpless look in the eyes of friends and loved ones. It’s no picnic for anyone, Magic and the world that worships him included. And because of this, I’m trying my best to lessen the molten rock of anger within me and leave room for compassion for another human being living with the virus, regardless of his sexuality.

But still I wonder. If Magic’s not as far from homosexual as he claims, by lying he’s doing nothing for himself as a lover of men, nothing for me as a gay man, nothing for all the confused young boys out there terrified of their sexuality.

If it is true without question that he’s “never had a homosexual experience. Never,” as he says in Sports Illustrated, then the molten rock melts a little more to know there is no cover-up going on. But for me, the doubt may always linger, perhaps because I want so much for a person of Magic Johnson’s stature to be able to fight the world on both fronts, homophobia and AIDS.

And perhaps unintentionally, he’s already doing that. CBS Sports analyst Pat O’Brien said on ESPN: “We all owe the gay and lesbian community an apology that it took something like this for us to pay attention to the disease.” If I were a frightened young boy our there watching, that would have brought me a little further out of the closet.

But I just wish I knew the whole truth about Magic. And why he’s so adamant about trumpeting his heterosexuality. And why there seem to be discrepancies in his testing story and medical history. And what would all the people canonizing him really think if he were completely like me? Questions. Questions. Questions.

Magic Johnson may have joined the war, and now we might be in for more supplies, but make no mistake: He is as yet only an ally, not a hero. The hero part remains to be seen.

2008 Epilogue: It's amazing to think that I'm alive today, having survived long enough to be able to post on a “blog” on the “internet” what I once wrote on a primitive word processor long before the world was dreaming of blogs and long-term survivors of AIDS. Magic Johnson’s high-profile, long-term survival has benefited humanity’s struggle with AIDS, and indeed, my own personal journey.

Magic Johnson helped the world deal with AIDS. Magic Johnson helped make AIDS the kind of priority that leads to life-sustaining drugs. He did this by living openly and thriving with HIV/AIDS, and for this, I am grateful. In the long run, upon further reveal, this AIDS soldier did receive some of the trickle down, and continues to live openly, thriving with HIV/AIDS.

And though the world has a long way to go towards full acceptance of people with AIDS, and though the sports world has an even longer way to go towards full acceptance of people regardless of sexual orientation, the fact that I’m still alive gives me hope on all fronts. Anything truly is possible. Magic and miracles happen.

• Randy Boyd is an author who has been living with HIV/AIDS since 1985. His novels feature main characters who are black and HIV positive, and have been nominated for a total for five Lambda Literary Awards.

More Love Than a Sex Club

(Reprint of a press release from West Beach Books in August 2006)

“I got more love from more men this past weekend than I ever did in my sex club days--combined. But this time, the love was coming from the men’s hearts, and it was all about my dreams and my books, not my body parts.”

That’s how author Randy Boyd described the 2006 convention of the National Association of Black Men and White Men Together in Long Beach, California.

The five-time Lambda Literary Award nominee appeared in conjunction with his latest novel, Walt Loves the Bearcat, the story of a white quarterback and black cheerleader and their fantastical love affair that changes the world (and garnered a Lambda Literary Award nomination for Best Romance).

"Boyd, who’s black, expressed his frustration with the black gay community."

“Never before have I received so much support for my dream that a black boy and a white boy can be in love and deal openly and honesty with the crap from both the black and white communities. And have a lot of magical fun along with the way (picture flying football stadiums!)”

Speaking in front of a packed audience at the co-chairs’ luncheon, Boyd, who’s black, expressed his frustration with the black gay community, specifically when it comes to accepting interracial relationships. “You think you might find a home in the black gay community, and all I’ve mostly found is flat out rejection of me and my novels because of who my main characters (always black) choose to love.”

During his talk, Boyd mentioned some of the culprits by name, including At the Beach, an annual event held in Malibu and attended by thousands of African-Americans. Organizers told Boyd via email that his works weren’t ethnic enough for their literary salon.

“These people don’t value my work because they see my work as worth less, meaning they see love between a black man and a white man as worth less,” said Boyd, who’s working on his next novel, The Bearcat Boyz on the Road of Life. “But I don’t plan on focusing on why I’m being rejected. I’m going to focus on creating space where I’m accepted. That’s why it was such a great convention. No hate. Just love. There can be miracles.”

Would You Say That to Ryan White?

Think Rock Hudson ever dreamed of being alive in the year 2000? Think Arthur Ashe ever imagined life in the 21st century?

How about the other public figures who died of AIDS in the 80s and the 90s: Jerry Smith, the pro football player, Max Robinson, the anchorman, John Holmes, the porn star, Pedro Zamora, the young Cuban who appeared on the Real World.

How about Ryan White, the teenager who at first faced so much opposition, then support, then died of AIDS? How about the countless non-famous men and women who died of AIDS during the last two decades of the last millennium?

What dreams did they imagine for life in the new millennium? Where are those dreams now? Dissipated into nothingness? Living on through their works, their family and friends, their children, their contributions to the world?

"In the US, AIDS has been managed into a niche."

Like the aforementioned souls, I too had AIDS in the 80s and the 90s. However, unlike the aforementioned souls, I have been fortunate enough to remain alive to see 2000, and indeed, 2008.

I wonder how the people no longer with us would view the world today, from the digital bells and whistles that provide instant data and communication, to gay kids being young and horny on MTV just like hetero kids. From a white woman and a black man having a legitimate shot at the presidency, to AIDS being a “manageable disease,” so much so that AIDS is barely a topic of interest in the gay community, let alone the country at large, let alone the world at large, where the disease still flourishes and hasn’t been quite as “manageable.”

In the United States, AIDS has been managed into a niche, a niche market for healthcare, a niche philanthropy, a niche concern in the gayworld. At the same time, the gayworld boomed itself into a whole new fabulous reality, complete with sexy icons backed by the corporate world (think everything from Will and Grace to Logo).

The result: a generation of young gay men who feel empowered enough to be just as openly sexual as their non-gay peers. Who would have ever dreamed so many men in their teens, 20s, and 30s would feel so free? Who would have dreamed those men would come to use terms like “clean” and “disease-free” to identify themselves and their ideal mates?

This AIDS survivor never imaged living in a world that would describe me as “disease-ridden.” I doubt that any of the aforementioned souls who died of AIDS ever imagined such a world either. I can only speak for myself, but I wonder.

I wonder how those who died of AIDS would feel knowing some people now call themselves “clean” and “disease-free.” I also wonder about the AIDS babies who did survive and are now part of the younger generation. How do they feel hearing their peers use terms like “clean” and “disease-free?” More than anything, I wonder: how I can play a part in helping us all dream better dreams. The photo at the top of this post is my answer. For now.


Read Randy Boyd’s “Disease-Free At Last,” the World AIDS Day essay.

A five-time Lambda Literary Award nominee, Randy Boyd is the author of Walt Loves the Bearcat, the epic sports novel featuring the first out superstar athlete.