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| by Debbi Hood Johnson |
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| People often ask me why I wear a Red Ribbon.
Some people ask the question simply to find out what the ribbon
means, but other people are really asking a hidden question:
they wonder what experiences in life has moved me so that I
would want to wear a Red Ribbon, a visible reminder to all who
see me of the continuing battle against HIV and AIDS. They are
asking why I, a white heterosexual female in the heart of the
conservative South, would choose to take an often unpopular
stand, instead of quietly going about my life. Unknowingly,
they are asking about my husband, BJ. |
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| BJ made me his wife, but AIDS made me
his widow. He died in my arms at 1:45 A.M. on Monday, May
17, 1993, in the little white house we had moved into only two
days earlier. Surrounded by packed boxes filled with our books,
our music, our photographs,and other mementos of our life together,
we lay in the dark on the hospital bed provided by Hospice.
Consumed, at this point, by massive brain lesions caused by
PML (Progressive Multifocal Leukoencephalopathy), Beej had lapsed
into a coma hours before. |
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| Earlier that day his wonderful parents
and our supportive friends, our "family of choice," had come,
encircling his bed to say their soft good-byes, kiss his cheek
gently, and whisper final messages into his ears as the room
began to fill with the loud, bone-chilling sound of fluids collecting
in his lungs as he struggled to breathe. |
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| In our private final hours, I sang to him,
prayed over him, and recited the 23rd Psalm over and over as
I carefully brushed his long hair. I reminisced aloud about
how we met and some of our favorite "heart snapshots"-- those
special memories and private jokes and tender moments we had
shared for so long. I chose to believe BJ could still hear me
through the curtains of his coma. |
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| As I sang one of our most special songs
to him, I suddenly noticed my voice was no longer competing
with the loud gurgling "death rattle" of BJ's breathing. I sat
up on the bed and saw that his eyes were open-- he was looking
at me. I knew he could really see me once again and that he
could see that I was truly with him until the end. His face
looked so serene, with a slightly lopsided grin. |
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| "Go ahead, sweetie," I whispered hoarsely
as I held him,"it's okay to let go now." As I kissed his lips
for the last time and felt his life leave his body, my hand
stayed on his chest, where his body heat remained the longest.
I sobbed as I felt the chill spread; the warm spot over his
heart grew smaller until it was no more. Another brave warrior
in the fight against AIDS had fallen. |
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| Why do I wear the Red Ribbon? I wear
it because I CAN. I am still alive, still able to carry
the message about the reality and urgency of AIDS and how HIV
can be prevented. I carry this message for those whose voices
can no longer be heard but whose presence can still be felt.
What message is that? I carry the message-- to all who will
hear AND listen-- that HIV/AIDS is, at this point, 100% FATAL...
but it is also 100% PREVENTABLE. |
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| I carry the message that Persons Living
with AIDS (PLWAs), or-- as I heard recently from a feisty long-term
survivor-- PLISOAs (Persons Living In Spite of AIDS) are PERSONS
first and foremost: |
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persons who have families and loved
ones, |
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persons who have dreams and hopes
and fears, |
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persons who laugh and cry, |
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persons who deserve the same respect
as you and I. |
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| The gay community, for more than a decade,
has shown us an incredible example of what unconditional love
and honest, unflinching AIDS prevention education can accomplish.
What about the rest of us? Where are the mainstream churches?
I have been dismayed by stories of persons picketing AIDS funerals
with hateful signs or quietly asking HIV-infected families to
leave their congregations so that the tithes and offerings won't
diminish. |
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| I know that these hurtful actions are not
the only witness of churches. Others have heeded Jesus' message
in Matthew 25:35-45 ("...I was sick and you visited me..."). |
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| When I wear the Red Ribbon, I am demonstrating
my compassion and care for people living with HIV/AIDS, my determination
that those who have already died from AIDS-related causes will
not be forgotten, my support for the ongoing efforts of all
AIDS service organizations and researchers, my respect for the
dedicated caregivers, and my desire to educate others about
how to halt the spread of this obscene plague. |
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| I can think of many other reasons to proudly
wear the Red Ribbon, and these reasons have names and faces: |
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Bill, the first PLWA I knowingly met
and for whom I became one of Charlotte's first volunteer
AIDS Buddies; |
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David, the quiet man whose face had
become a macabre mask of purple Kaposi's Sarcoma lesions; |
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Daphne, the woman who fretted about
who would care for her children after she had died; |
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Tony, the entertainer who hung himself
in desperation, afraid of how AIDS would continue to ravage
his mind and body; |
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Curtis, the proud African American
who had such a big heart and tried to alert his community
to its risks before his life was cut short one Christmas; |
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Little Jessica, whose panel in The
NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt haunts me to this day
with its stuffed animals and baby blanket; |
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Ryan White, whose unyielding courage
showed the world that AIDS might sap his strength but
never bend his spirit; |
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Ron, whose independent streak continued
until he drew his last breath in his apartment, surrounded
by his friends and beloved cat; and |
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BJ, my sweet, gentle husband, who
never passed up an opportunity to speak to groups to educate
them and to "put a face on AIDS." AIDS finally robbed
him of his speech, his mobility, his bodily functions,
his smile-- but never his dignity. |
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There are those who believe the Red
Ribbon has lost its meaning, that it's only an empty symbol
now. I disagree! As long as my Red Ribbon gives someone
the opportunity to ask me aquestion about AIDS, or gives
someone the strength to go throughanother day encouraged
by this small sign of support and solidarity, then its
message is very clear: |
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The Red Ribbon simply means that
I care. |
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| Debbi Hood Johnson
originally wrote "I Wear a Red Ribbon" to share on the Computerized
AIDS Ministries (CAM) bulletin board service in 1994. Since
then, CAM became an email list. Global Ministries was proud
to publish it in one of its AIDS focus papers and distribute
it electronically through AEGIS, the CDC National AIDS Clearinghouse
Bulletin Board and elsewhere. She received letters of appreciation
from all of the world. After the article was posted at this
site on the web, she received many more letters. |
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| In Spring 1995, Debbi found out that she
was HIV positive. We expected that AIDS would take her one day,
but instead she was killed in a car accident in North Carolina
on February 24, 1996, at a time when some things seemed to be
going her way. She was very excited when she was included in
the "24 Hours in Cyberspace" event. A photographer took over
350 pictures that day. |
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| Debbi lived in Charlotte, North Carolina,
where she was an AIDS educator/counselor for about ten years.
She was the daughter of a former Wesleyan Methodist minister. |
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| Though she died more than 10 years ago
and wrote this reflection almost 15 years ago, her words continue
to touch the hearts of people around the world. |
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