How Project S.H.A.ft got started -
From "Rich's Rant"- November'09 Issue:
It caught me off-guard. I didn’t know how to react, so I just grinned ear to ear with embarrassment.
It’s no secret I host a weekly game of Bingo down at Charlie’s on Tuesday nights. Each week we play a few extra side games in between Bingo rounds. Games such as Pie Eating Contest, Dunkin’ for Apples and one of my personal favorites: Let’s Make a Deal.
It was during Let’s Make a Deal . . . it happened.
“The first person to show me a condom wins a prize!” I yelled.
Nothing.
I asked again: “Surely, someone in this crowd has a condom. Come get your prize!”
Again, nothing.
“Here’s a hint — they’re in a big basket by the door.” Three people took off like lighting to be the first to retrieve a condom from a basket that no longer existed. All three returned empty handed. It was in that moment I realized our health as a community was in jeopardy.
I went home that night thinking about what had just occurred. Being partnered for the past four years I guess I hadn’t noticed the condom basket was no longer. To my recollection Colorado AIDS Project had always provided condoms, lube and even a few dental dams free for every gay bar in the Mile High.
When did this change? How long have the baskets been gone?
With this revelation fresh in mind, I was prompted to visit the CDC for my annual HIV test. Being self-employed I don’t have health insurance. But even when I did, an HIV screen would cost around $100. The same test at the CDC is free of charge.
I’m cheap.
Seated across from the individual who had just pricked my finger, the wait was on. He looked over the form that I had just filled out regarding my sexual history, relationship status and risk factor. I had fully divulged, he knew everything about me. Regardless, I always get the impression these people aren’t buying my story — nor should they.
Remembering back to visits past, I hadn’t always been truthful. I had engaged in risky (condom-less) sex with multiple male partners, but felt if I was to disclose that information I would somehow be incriminating myself. Besides I wasn’t proud of my mistakes. I just hoped I wouldn’t be regretting them (even more) anytime soon.
But that was then and this is now. I had no reason to worry. Still, they always seem to achieve putting the fear of God in you within seven minutes of walking through the doors.
“If your test is positive, do you have a plan?”
“Yes.” I replied. No, I thought.
“Do you have a family support system in place?”
“Yes,” I replied. Like I would ever tell my mother . . . it would crush her.
I have a wonderful mother who has supported me in everything I’ve ever done. To make a very PFLAG statement, in a very gayzette sort of way – she’s proud of her faggot son!
But with her pride comes fear. Fear that my life will be cut short. Fear that I will die before she does. Die of AIDS.
Past experiences, possible scenarios, and random flashes of my mother and Michael, my partner, dancing around in my head all came to a screeching halt with the obnoxious beep of the timer. It had been a long, reflective 15 minutes.
“Are you ready to receive your test results?” he asked.
“Yup,” I gulped.
“At this point in time: you are HIV negative.”
“Thanks!” I left as quickly as I had crept in as not to be noticed. As I shut the door to my car I let out a gigantic-pent up scream of relief. I had nothing to worry about, but like I said before, they have this way of making you feel like a Colfax whore.
Shaken from the whole experience, I held on to the steering wheel just a little tighter than usual to navigate my way back home. As I drove I thought about what prompted my HIV screen.
I had a realization, better known as an Oprah light bulb moment.
Holy Shit! Come to think of it I can’t remember the last time I saw a basket of condoms . . . in any bar. I knew Charlie’s didn’t have any and from what I was later told they haven’t had any regular supply in quite a long time . . . years. Manager of Charlie’s, John Nelms, said they occasionally get some from the Planned Parenthood across the parking lot. On a rare occasion when they have them, they go quick.
I knew what I needed to do.
I picked up Nic (my trusty slave) and informed him we were going for a drive. Together we visited all 21 gay bars in Denver. To ensure every stop was made I referenced the gay night out section from my own publication. I knew the bathhouses had them. But did any of the gay bars have a condom basket?
As we checked the bars off our list one-by-one, our findings became clear. I was shocked by the results, but no longer in disbelief.
Out of 21 gay bars, only one provides its patrons with free condoms: the Denver Eagle, a bar that came along well after the baskets of condoms disappeared. They have taken it upon themselves to make condoms available.
While I commend Jim and Jimbo, owners of the Eagle, for doing what they feel is the right thing to do. I don’t believe it’s necessarily a bar’s responsibility to provide condoms. It is after all the responsibility of each of us to take control of our own well being.
But with that said, I am old enough to remember a time where you couldn’t walk into any GLBT establishment without seeing a plethora of condoms. And I personally feel as a GLBT whole, we should look out for one another.
With this new information at hand I questioned how many people had reached for a condom from the now defunct baskets? I know I had. More importantly, how many condoms were used and prevented a positive HIV screen?
Tragically I questioned the reverse: how many infections could have been avoided if a condom had been readily available?
The fact remains that on average, every 9-minutes and 30-seconds someone in the United States is diagnosed with Human Immunodeficiency Virus. And more than 14,000 people will die of AIDS this year in our country alone.
Beginning this month, gayzette will do its part to help keep the community a little safer. Condoms will now be distributed along with your favorite publication in our bars.
It’s here. Project S.H.A.FT.
