I can't remember who you were. They told me that I met you at the retreat in Fort Warden last fall. Now you have passed away and I hate myself once more for not holding on to your picture in my head. I hear that you had children and I think "where will they go, how must they feel?" I put my daughter In their place and cannot contain the thought for fear that it will bring tears to my eyes. Once upon a time the faces connected to the names. The many women I'd meet, I could at least remember something about them. When I see your picture upon our memorial board at the BABES office I pray that it will light up my mind like a bulb lights up a dark room and then I'll say, "Oh! Oh, no." Now I think that there is one more panel to sew for the quilt and one more family left motherless, sisterless. Stricken by aids. I don't' even like to capitalize the diseases' name. And, one more picture to put up on our board. God Bless you whoever you were and I guess now the only thing I can do is pray for those you've left behind.
Sincerely,
BABE.

Interview with Mar¡a Lindsey

Mar¡a Lindsey arrived in the U.S. from Cuba in January, 1961 at the age of 15. Her father was already here, the political situation having forced him to leave the island in October 1960. Because diplomatic relations between Cuba and the U.S. were severed early that January, her mother and the rest of the family had to first go to Jamaica before entering the United States. Her maternal grandparents were immigrants from Spain, and on her father's side there were several generations born in Cuba.

Mar¡a is celebrating 30 years of marriage to Jerry this month. She has two children, Dale (who is married to Debbie) and David. She also has one grandson, Ethan. Mar¡a worked for POCAAN from 1989 to 1997, when she was laid off along with several other due to budgetary constraints. She now works for the Pride Foundation and is very happy with her new position.

Q. Why do you volunteer for the BABES Network translating our newsletter articles into Spanish?

A. Several reasons. I feel privileged to read the women's stories. I started out by helping when Agnes Figueroa was doing the bulk of the translations. And a good friend, Victor, whom you also used to know, really impressed on me the importance of making information available to people in an accessible format.

Q. Tell me more about you and Victor.

A. I still find it so hard to believe someone I only knew for less than four years changed my life so radically. I met him when he called POCAAN to volunteer, and soon after that he joined the staff. It took me over a year to warm up to him because I suspected he might be ill, and he seemed very much like someone from my own family, so that I feared if we became close and then I lost him, the pain would be unbearable. Eventually, however, we became very good friends and lunch buddies. He showed me new perspectives on gay and lesbian issues that really changed my life. He helped me become more thoughtful and to learn to think things through more clearly. He also taught me a lot about the politics of AIDS. I learned a lot about the fierce competition among drug companies and researchers, as well as some of the gossip on a national level. We also did outreach together. Each first Tuesday of the month we'd go to the old Tugs bar (a real dive, dark and run down) and do table outreach. It was the first gay bar and probably the third bar of any kind I'd ever been to. I felt awkward often, but it was needed outreach.

Q. Tell me about, uh, later?

A. As our friendship grew, we came to trust each other more and more. Then, one day, I think it was in 1991, I know it was just before the conference in Amsterdam, he came down with a case of cryptococcal meningitis. It was a mild case, but it was an "AIDS defining event." Does anyone still remember that term? Anyway, when he improved he asked me to meet him here, in this restaurant where we are now, and be prepared to work. I thought he meant office work. Instead he asked me if when his time came, would I hold his hand? And, if he decided to end his life, would I help? Originally, I said yes to the first request, and that I would not interfere to the second. Two years of steadily deteriorating health and continued commitment to his community and much sweetness went by. In April 1994 he came to that crossroads. He called me at the office and told me "I've come to a decision regarding my life." He waited for a few days until his family could arrive from the East coast and say goodbye. He had researched how this end was to be accomplished, and the drugs were on hand. He told us the process would take up to three days. It took two, but there was a period of time when he was having very severe seizures off and on for may three or four hours. It was not a peaceful death and I wouldn't recommend it. And by the way, the pain of losing him was unbearable, but his friendship was worth whatever it cost.

Q. Do you ever feel guilty about having assisted at his death due to your religious convictions or because you were raised Catholic?

A. I was afraid that might happen, but no, I just felt that this was my friend whom I had been helping for a long time, and now I was just helping him a little more.

Q. What did you do afterwards?

A. I did some research on the medicines he took and found there are more effective kinds to accomplish death, but they are almost impossible to get prescriptions for.

Q. How do you feel about working in the AIDS field?

A. This is a hard question! It has been hard, sometimes heartbreaking. I've made some good friends, and lost some of them, too. I've learned a lot about life. The unfairness of it gets to me. Also, you see, all through my childhood, I lost people to the revolution constantly. I came to this country and didn't expect to ever face ongoing loss again-not in a country where the best medical services are available. It just wasn't supposed to happen this way.

Q. What about dealing with grief?

A. I have learned that different people deal with grief differently, and that we should not judge how others choose to express or deal with their grief.

Q. Any tips for the newly diagnosed?

A. Geez, I am HIV negative, so I hardly dare to presume, but I'd tell you to remember, LIFE is for the Living!

And, not Or
By Janet Parker,
Associate Director, Multifaith AIDS Project

I have spent a large part of my life thinking that if I could only read more, think more, feel more, understand more, and experience more, I would be able to get a grip on life and have the life that I wanted. Surely there were some absolute truths that I could find, some approach to life that would bring me peace and happiness. I tried therapy and while I benefited in many ways, I found limits in looking at my past or my personality type for answers. I explored many different religions and found that none would answer all of my questions, at least not to my satisfaction.

So, what is a girl to do? How do I make sense of the tragedies of life? How can I reconcile the good and bad that life has to offer? Are there any answers? The only thing I have been able to come up with is that everything has both an "up" and a "down" side. Nothing is wholly good or bad. Everything and everyone has a shadow and everyone and everything has the potential for some goodness.

I find great comfort in this. Things can be both black and white. I can be both powerful and powerless. I can have an answer to some questions and accept that there are no answers to others. Life can be both eternal and temporary. I like the following quote from an unknown author because it seems to express both points of view:

"We are travelers on a cosmic journey---stardust, swirling and dancing in the eddies and whirlpools of infinity. Life is eternal. But the expressions of life are ephemeral, momentary, transient.we have stopped for a moment to encounter each other, to meet, to love, to share. This is a precious moment, but it is transient. It is a little parenthesis in eternity. If we share with caring, light heartedness, and love, we will create abundance and joy for each other. And then this moment will have been worthwhile."

Now What

When I found out I was HIV+ in 1990, I was totally devastated. To me, it was a death sentence. My life was over. There was nothing left but to sit and wait for the inevitable---death. For six months I was a recluse and in the depths of depression. The thought of facing another human being brought me to tears. The thought of leaving my children without a mother ate me alive. The thought of never seeing my grandchildren broke my heart. And it enraged me that my risky behavior put me in this situation---how could I have been so stupid and irresponsible! Clearly, and without a doubt, it was my fault. As my parents said, "Julie, you messed up your life, and now you have AIDS. You deserve it! You're receiving your just reward." Yes, it was all my fault as everything always is. I was a total screw-up, a worthless piece of crap.

After six months of absolute isolation, I found the courage to step outside my door without a crippling anxiety attack, which always left me temporarily blind and fumbling to get back to safety inside my apartment door. Still, I had trouble facing other people. I just felt that they knew I had AIDS---my blood was toxic waste---and I had that big red "A" tattooed on my forehead for all to see. I imagined that people purposely walked on the other side of the street or changed direction to avoid me. And those who didn't looked at me with a pity that made me cry. The situation seemed to go on like this for an eternity. "God, why me? Have I been such a horrible person that I must suffer this deep anguish and humiliation?"

As the months went on, I began to accept my fate. I was a bad person. I had AIDS. And I was going to die. So be it. Eventually, I was able to venture outside my apartment without falling apart; however, I continued to have trouble looking someone straight in the eyes. I was a "leper" out just to take care of business with as little attention as possible. This was so very difficult for me. I'd always been warm, friendly, and full of life. I love people and was so outgoing in the past. Now, I was reduced to nothingness and didn't deserve the time of day. My thinking was, "Just let me take care of my business and get home safely unnoticed."

Most of the time I spent planning for my death. I wanted to be sure that my kids were well taken care of, and that I left no one the financial burden of disposing of my body. I had a living will drawn up and got everything ready and in place. Then, I just sat and waited for the "grim reaper."

In 1995 I was given an AIDS diagnosis. I was sure death was just around the corner, and it would soon be over. In a way, it came as a relief. I started on the new drug cocktails and went though hell looking for the combination that would work for me. There were times I'd pray for death. All I wanted was for the suffering to stop! I longed to be pain free and in peace. Finally, my doctors found a combination that began to work. I started to feel better, and not long after that, I started to feel really great. After several months, a startling realization hit me---I WAS GOING TO LIVE! Horrified, I thought, "Now what?!"

Now, I'm faced with the struggle of re-entering the land of the living. And what a challenge it has turned out to be. I seem to have lost all of my social skills. How do I meet and make friends? What do I tell them? And men (I often feel myself wanting male companionship), how do I deal with that? What do I tell them and when? My health has improved enough so that I have taken a part-time job and love it, but now my benefits are severely threatened (especially the medical), a story in itself. I'll catch you up on that later. NOW WHAT?

Peace and love to you all,
Julie S.

Know your rights!

Living with HIV/AIDS? Have Legal Questions?
Family law issue? (Child Support/Custody)
Discriminated against or need accommodations at work?
Trouble with debts & thinking of bankruptcy?
Free legal seminar on Debt Issues & Bankruptcy-Ruth Nelson, Attorney at Law
When: Monday, August 24th at 7:30pm
Where: Seattle AIDS Support Group 303 17th Ave E., (Corner of E. Thomas & 17th)
Please call VAPWA/AIDS Legal Access at 340-2584 to reserve a space or if you have questions

The goals for BABES website are:

* Create a space for women with HIV to express their views with each other. (Speak-out)
* Show the diverse faces and stories of women with HIV. (Snap-shot)
* Create a space for remembrance and grief. (Memorial)
* Provide practical information for women with HIV (tips for newly diagnosed, links, local resources and newsletters)
* Disseminate information about HIV and women. (women & HIV, newsletters, and links)
* Provide a launching source for other information of interest to women with HIV. (links)
* Create a sense of community for the HIV positive women that use and contribute to the site.
* Increase awareness of the issues facing HIV+ women

Call Cristien at 206.720.5566 for more information