Although a variety of factors have played a role in the enduring, destructive effect that HIV/AIDS has had on blacks, the ultimate responsibility lies within the black community itself (or lack thereof). HIV/AIDS is a preventable disease. However, due to the lack of a strong community in San Francisco, blacks have not had the success that, for example, the white gay community has had in stemming the tide of this disease and making inroads against its further spread. With the help of political clubs, merchants' associations, and the "concentrated" neighborhood of the Castro, the white gay community formed committees and political action groups to combat the disease and educate their community. But as for San Francisco blacks, there was no foundation of geographical, cultural, or political groups—that is, a true black community—to fight the disease, unlike most other large American cities.

As Albert Broussard demonstrates in his book, Black San Francisco, blacks here have had mixed success in developing a strong set of institutions and organizations. While there were more "black" newspapers in San Francisco in the past, there are now basically two (Bay View and Metro Reporter), and readership remains sporadic. One of the best venues for disseminating information in the black community has been the church; but, contrary to earlier hopes, the churches have only started taking up the issue of HIV/AIDS within the past year. Thus, to be able to reach blacks in significant numbers, marketing needs to be done through larger, more generic outlets such as local TV stations and larger newspapers such as the San Francisco Chronicle. Unfortunately, these outlets cost money that many are fearful of taking away from services and programs.

Duane Poe, current Executive Director of BCA, agrees that this lack of community continues to hamper efforts to make bigger inroads in fighting HIV/AIDS among blacks. He says, "You have to understand, when black folks use the word 'community,' we have a whole different meaning than most people. People say to me, 'Oh, you've got a black community in the Western Addition. You've got a black community in Bayview & Hunters Point.' That's not right. We have black people in those places, but there is no real black community in San Francisco." Mr. Poe goes on to explain that, during his four years with BCA, he has become increasingly aware of the need not only for a culturally sensitive and appropriate marketing effort to reach blacks, but also of the need to build and promote the institutions that would make up a San Francisco black community. The agency will focus on both of these issues in the coming year. Additionally, BCA has made inroads with several local black churches, historically the backbone of black communities in other cities.

Unfortunately, even cities with strong black communities were reluctant to accept ownership of the disease as anything other than a gay white male problem. From interviews with various people connected with BCA, I learned that the initial response to HIV/AIDS in the black community was slow and individualistic. Any real "services" were provided by families caring for sick members. Both BCA, and New York City's Minority Task Force on AIDS, were not formed until 1986—five years after the discovery of the disease, and a full year after the first World AIDS Conference. As Cathy J. Cohen states, in The Boundaries of Blackness, "A lack of leadership, in particular transformative leadership, best characterizes the response to AIDS from traditional black organizations and elites" (1999, 341). Of course, if the media hadn't from day one perpetuated the myth that HIV/AIDS was only a gay white male disease, blacks may have taken it up sooner.

Unfortunately, even if gay black men were also being infected, the community refused to take ownership of this issue for blacks. Ms. Cohen speaks of "cross-cutting issues" that not only encompass one's race, but also other primary identities such as gender, sexuality, and class. Thus, "We have to recognize that a gay sexual identity has been seen in black communities as mitigating one's racial identity and deflating one's community standing" (1999, 14). Accordingly, these people are then seen as not "worthy" of support from the larger black community—particularly in terms of expending precious political capital. Raymond a young gay man that is a BCA client, tells of how he could never tell his parents he is HIV positive because that would mean telling them he's gay. In fact, he says, "If they didn't know no better, it'd be better to tell them I got it from sharing needles." This assertion is borne out with eerie similarity in the few other books on blacks and AIDS. As the San Francisco Chronicle reported, "Blacks already view themselves as on the outside (of U.S. culture). People are very fearful of being on the outside of the outside group" (Scott November 10, 1991; A17). So even though the stigma against drug use is a powerful force in the black community, it is still not as damning as homosexuality.

Again, there simply was not much concern about the disease in the black community. Although even today there remains a lingering feeling that AIDS is simply a gay white male disease, this belief was even more prevalent in the early days of the epidemic (1981-1985), and thus contributed to the slow response in the black community. As Cohen states in Boundaries, while the labeling of AIDS as a gay disease mobilized that community to protect itself, "The absence of African Americans from images and discussions of AIDS undoubtedly supported the denial of black community leaders, who viewed AIDS as a disease they did not need to own" (1999, 182). This is not to say that the gay community didn't have their own problems in overcoming the homosexual stigma in order to deal with this new threat. However, there were enough gay white groups forming to fight the disease and give people a place to go and join with others for political action and support. Unfortunately, black gay pride groups are still virtually non-existent—even in a "haven" such as San Francisco. And, as Dr. Pamela Johnson states in AIDS & African Americans, "Without political power, access to funding is undermined . . . without funds it is difficult to have adequate education, prevention, and treatment programs for the African-American gay man and the African American community at large" (2000, 53). This is a continuing, shameful pattern visited on blacks throughout their history in the United States.

While there were some black gay leaders in San Francisco willing to fight for blacks living with HIV/AIDS, there were never nearly the number there were of white gay leaders. One of the few was William J. "Brandy" Moore, a co-founder of BCA, who died of AIDS in 1994. Mr. Moore worked tirelessly to advocate for blacks living with HIV/AIDS. In addition to co-founding BCA, Brandy served as their Board President from 1990-93, was a member of the Black Leadership Forum, Executive Director of the Pride Foundation, and earlier worked as an aide to Supervisor Doris Ward and Speaker of the State Assembly Willie Brown. He served on Mayor Frank Jordan's HIV Task force, and served from 1987-89 on the California State AIDS Advisory Committee. However, to this day, he remains virtually unknown among the community he served—he simply wasn't "famous" enough outside of his work for blacks and HIV/AIDS. Perhaps if Brandy had stuck with his first career, as a male model, he might have achieved the notoriety and status the media is willing to sometimes grant blacks in this county. But, again, due to the absence of a black community to promote and recognize leaders such as Brandy, he was never able to achieve the recognition he deserved and that could have been so helpful in halting the spread of HIV/AIDS among blacks.

The Disease Takes a Not-so-Magical Turn

"Because of the HIV virus that I have obtained I will have to retire from the Lakers today" (Press conference, 7 November 1991). With these words from Magic Johnson, the black community got their own Rock Hudson. Randy Shilts notes in And the Band Played On that, "the Hudson announcement [was] the single most important event in the history of the epidemic" (1987, 579). The media treated Magic's announcement as similarly historic for blacks. Unfortunately, the media coverage focused mostly on the celebrity aspect of the disease—not on the increasingly devastating effect HIV/AIDS was having on the black community. From the time of the first story on AIDS and blacks in the New York Times, in late 1985, until Johnson's announcement, in late 1991, no more than 10 stories appeared every three months. In the first quarter after Johnson's announcement, sixty stories on AIDS and blacks appeared. From the beginnings of the epidemic, in 1981, up through 1993, 62% of all stories on AIDS and blacks in the New York Times were either on Magic Johnson or Arthur Ashe (data from New York Times index). Having "innocently" contracted the disease through a blood transfusion, Mr. Ashe received particularly sympathetic coverage from the media—perpetuating the continuing Balkanization of AIDS sufferers into different groups worthy of various levels of sympathy or concern depending upon how they contracted the disease.

Both the Chronicle and Examiner devoted a good deal of space to Magic's announcement. In a column on the front page of the Nov. 10 Sunday Examiner, columnist Joan Ryan gushed over the idea that Magic could single-handedly reverse the tide of HIV/AIDS devastation on the black community. Johnson was called "very brave" and "a true hero" for announcing his status. Gerald Lenoir, former BCA Executive Director, said he thought Magic's announcement would make the black community finally step up and take notice of the epidemic. Rev. Cecil Williams added he hoped the announcement would spur the black churches to action. Lost in the blizzard of Magic coverage, however, was this statement from Pat Norman, former BCA board president: "It's a horrible experience to have such a beautiful, magical person have this disease . . . but we must also remember that there are thousands upon thousands of beautiful, magical people facing what he now faces today" (Chronicle November, 8 1991; A22).

An aspect of Magic Johnson's case that highlights the continuing difficulty of dealing with the disease in the black community is the uncertainty as to how he contracted it. The media showed an unusual amount of sensitivity in not exploring the possibility that Johnson contracted the virus through man-to-man sex. Most studies done to date on transmission shows that it remains extremely difficult for a female to pass HIV on to a male partner through heterosexual intercourse (although we must remember that all unprotected sex is risky). Therefore, taking into consideration the fact that Johnson is not an intravenous drug user, or did not contract the virus through a blood transfusion as Arthur Ashe did, only one high-risk behavioral category remains. Yet Magic, supported by the media and community, was able to quickly brush aside any such "dark" suggestions. And, since he supposedly has not contracted the disease through one of these more unacceptable ways, he continues to be seen as more of an innocent victim than the dirty drug users or queers. It would not do for Magic to be seen as a disgrace to the community, as gays still are (Cohen 1999, 346).

Of course, in a perfect world, it would not matter how Magic contracted the disease. And, to his credit, he has done a lot of good work educating people regarding the disease. However, even if you dismiss the continuing gossip as to whether or not Magic did indeed contract the virus through homosexual activity, a valuable opportunity has been lost. The media, and Magic, could have used his story to more strongly emphasize how this shows that anyone, gay or straight, can contract HIV/AIDS. Additionally, and in consideration of the continuing, pervasive homophobia that exists within the black community, strides could have been made in educating and informing blacks that even if Magic did contract HIV through gay sex, it doesn't matter. What matters is dispelling the myths and misconceptions that continue to exist about HIV & AIDS in the black community, and work on halting the spread of the disease.