The Power of Magic: Magic Johnson and the Fear of HIV

Twenty years ago this week, basketball icon Earvin “Magic” Johnson announced he was HIV-positive. The news shocked the world, especially for those who thought HIV was a disease reserved for gay men or the island of Haiti. For me, a 14-year-old who fearfully associated HIV with gays and death, Magic Johnson’s disclosure was one of the key moments in my thought process about HIV and AIDS.

I first heard the term AIDS in elementary school. As part of health education, I saw a short film about a young black man (it was implied that he was not hetero) in New York City who was suffering from a mysterious disease.

The imagery was confusing and tragic, and it sparked a fear in me. I knew I was gay and wondered if the fate of this young man in the short film would inevitably be mine. At the film’s end the man collapsed, with lesions all over his body. My elementary-school mind was left with an eerie question: Is this what happens to all men who have sex with men?

I didn’t get an HIV test until I was 20 years old. Although I was constantly around people who were advocates of safe sex and knowing your status, I, like many others, was terrified. I was afraid of the outcome and the wait. Even in the late ’90s you had to wait a full week for test results.

After landing a random job in Philadelphia, I was blessed with health insurance. Being excited to have a job that included benefits, I pulled out the phone book and ignorantly searched for the closest doctor in my area.

The moment I saw the doctor I was uncomfortable. He was much older, stiff, and barely looked me in the eye. He appeared to be comfortable with me until he peeked at my chart, where had I marked my sexual partners as male. After he glanced at me, then glanced back at the chart, I knew he had conjured up a pot of assumptions.

Ignoring my intuition, I casually explained that my main reason for the appointment was that I had acne and wanted a prescription for Differin Gel. Barely responding, he blinded me with a massive surgery lamp, inspecting my face. As he squinted through huge glasses he let out, “Those are the kind of bumps people who have AIDS get — we better draw blood!”

My mouth dried up, I lost feeling in my fingertips, and I felt dizzy. Did he just diagnose me with AIDS? Although he didn’t exactly say I was positive, because I was a young man who had never been tested and had a fear of the disease, “AIDS” was all I heard. I should’ve known the doctor was wildly ignorant, but in that moment I was too shocked to think normally.