But it wasn’t until coming to DC, where more than 1 in 30 adults are HIV-infected— a higher prevalence than in Ethiopia, Nigeria, or Rwanda—that I had peers who were infected. Peers who I commuted with, shopped with; who I related to, worked with, lived with; who, really, were just like me.

Everyone always says that discrimination stems from fear, but I never felt the slightest bit of fear about HIV and I couldn’t understand why anyone would: to protect your health, avoid exposing yourself to the virus. Know how HIV is transmitted. More importantly, know how HIV is not transmitted.

Learn exactly how the virus is spread, avoid risky behaviors or practice harm reduction; help people living with HIV manage their care, because those with lower viral loads are less likely to transmit the virus to others; encourage people to get tested  because those who don’t know their status can spread it to others unintentionally.

For years, the other questions I had, the ones about sex, never got answered. I guess to be fair I never asked them either. I’d catch the innuendos in comments from my slightly older friends; I watched the Real World and read Seventeen articles when my mom wasn’t looking. I got by on what information I could get without having to ask. I guess I just figured if no one was offering the information, I shouldn’t be asking.

But then I got to middle school and suddenly there were adults who said they wanted to teach my classmates and me all about sex.  We were told we would be taking regular breaks from classes to participate in a sexual education program called “Be the One.” Of course this was a big to-do, and everyone was very excited. Turns out it was all big misunderstanding. They didn’t really want to teach us about sex; they just wanted to teach us that abstinence from sex outside of marriage is the norm for people our age. They heavily implied, if not directly stated, that because kissing was a temptation that would surely lead you to have sex, we should avoid kissing at all costs, too. They also wanted to be sure we knew that each and every one of us had the ability to abstain, since all it takes is reasoning, self-esteem, and respect for those we care about.  (I scoffed and kissed my then-boyfriend anyway. And no, I didn’t have sex with him because of it.)  At the end of the program, they had us all sign a contract stating we’d be abstinent until marriage. Oops. Hope that wasn’t legally binding.

When I wanted information and guidance to make informed decisions, all I got was patronizing ideology. Looking back, I didn’t even know of the extent of my own ignorance; I wasn’t aware of all the things I didn’t know – and perhaps that’s the worst part.  I knew I should use a condom if, god forbid, the demons in me drove me to have sex before marriage, but what I didn’t know was what a condom looked like. I didn’t know how effective they were when properly used, or more importantly, how to properly use one.  The first time I saw a condom, I’m ashamed to admit, was when I was having sex for the first time. Shouldn’t I have been armed with the knowledge to protect myself?

I guess I wasn’t worried about it then because I was on the birth control pill, and because I’d been taught that the main consequence of sex was pregnancy. Now, you’re thinking, if she’s on the pill, she must know a little more about birth control and sex than she’s letting on.  But to be honest, I only realized girls my age could be on the birth control pill after my friends started taking it for their acne. I researched it online and learned that it was a scientifically proven way to prevent unintended pregnancies, highly effective if taken properly. But no one offered me this information, and certainly no one was going to offer me the pill. And when I told my parents I was going to the doctor to get a prescription for it, I think the main reason they didn’t argue with me about it was that they knew I could get it without their permission anyway since I was over 18.

I’m still learning things about sex and family planning (or planning not to have a family…) that I didn’t know I didn’t know, and I think I’m more informed than your average 22 year old. Basically, all this is to say, I think real comprehensive sex education like their talking about in Montana would have an amazing impact.

http://helenair.com/news/article_e95cfe14-8cb1-11df-8ffc-001cc4c002e0.html

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Update: 7/16/2010:

Apparently Texas is just as bad as Florida in terms of sex education. This report makes me cringe: http://www.tfn.org/site/DocServer/SexEdRort09_web.pdf?docID=981

And these videos are based on demonstrations are used by a majority of the school districts curricula:

http://www.tfn.org/site/PageServer?pagename=JustSayDontKnow

I know it’s strange to describe my time in terms of things I did not do, but the fireworks were notably absent from my 4th of July. I consoled myself with my boyfriend’s weekend visit (and by watching this).

I still happily make trips to New England and the idea of moving back hasn’t been completely abandoned, but I have to admit that I have grown to love DC. It’s hard to explain why, how, or when this appreciation developed, especially when the weather here is so ridiculous (first this, now this) and the metro keeps hiking up its fares.  But, it’s there. Of course, I’d like it more with a car and a swimming pool. Especially on days like today.

It was the first time I had my own room (away from home). I failed to decorate it, at all.  It was the first time I lived in a city, rather than on its outskirts.  And correspondingly, it was the first time I had to make a daily commute. It was the first time I really, really had to manage my own budget, which was hard with so much to do, so much to see, and everything being so expensive.

It was the first time I was responsible for buying my own food and preparing my own meals.  And the food, like everything else, was very expensive.  Not that I had any idea how much what I was buying was supposed to cost, given that I had never had to pay much attention.  Plus, everything was labeled in Danish, so I could only eat what I could remember the word for or what I could identify just from looking at. Needless to say, it was probably the healthiest I’ve even eaten in my life. For breakfast, I ate  clementines or bananas, or if I felt like indulging myself, a danish.  For lunch, I lived on chicken sandwiches (they’re not too big on turkey),  until I got more creative and started making lunchable-type pizzas.  Dinner usually consisted of breaded chicken tenders with rice, spaghetti bolognese, or homemade soup… And, of course, my favorite snack… Nutella!

It was the first time I travelled to continental Europe. To foreign countries by myself (or with recently made friends). I went to  Ireland (breifly) and Poland by myself, and to Spain, France, Scotland, England, Italy, and Norway with classmates.

It was the first time I moved to a place where I had no friends or family anywhere nearby.  I left everyone and everything I knew six times zones west of me.

Until now, I thought culture shock was what made the beginning of my time there so emotionally taxing, because I was so obviously an outsider amidst the sea of well-dressed, bike-riding, blonde-haired Danes, but now I realize I wasn’t giving myself enough credit.  In 4 months I grew tremendous amounts, and change like that can’t be easy for anyone.

But it was also  first time I could legally drink,  go out to bars, wander city streets into the early morning.  It was the first time I was completely independent. The first time I had to (got to?) navigate and master a city and its transportation, on my own.  To pick the cities and the sites I wanted to see. 

I wish someone from my American life would have come to visit me there. While I returned home older, wiser, better, I think the change would have been more obvious if they had seen me in Copenhagen.  Honestly, I would have loved an opportunity to show off how well I had adapted.  Talking about my transformation after the fact doesn’t seem to do it justice, or worse, makes me sound crazy to those who remember how I struggled through it.

I remember the fruit stand I frequented, and the cartons of clementines I would eat in a week’s time.  I remember drinking on the metro, in the square, on the way to a bar and then not buying a single drink once we got there. I remember dancing on tables, to Ace of Base.  I remember my appreciation for the floor to ceiling windows, which allowed me to catch the sun’s rays, however fleeting they were. I remember our American Thanksgiving, quite fondly, too. But, especially this time of year, I remember all the Christmas celebrations (julefrokost) with aebleskiver and glogg. 

I wish I had made more of my time there. But, I guess that just gives me reason to go back.

Heaven or hell?

1. I’m living on my own.

Heaven: I spent the summer after graduating at home. To have my parents looming over my shoulder incessantly asking about the status of my job search made my otherwise difficult situation even harder to bear. It was emotionally very draining. It started off nice enough, concerned parents looking out for their only daughter: “What kind of things are you applying for?” But before long, it was outright annoying; I was working 9-5, 5 days a week on cover letters and networking and researching new openings, but all my parents had to say was, “Why aren’t you DOING anything about it?”  I much prefer my current situation.

Hell: Even though I’m living on my own, my parents are still footing the bill. I’m constantly worrying about doing right by them.  I moved to be in the land of better, or at least more, opportunities… but I’ve yet to find anything. What if I don’t? As if my own frustration won’t be enough, I worry that it will be held over my head for a long, long time.

2. I have an internship.

Heaven: It will look great on my resume. It’s better than NOT having an internship. I get to go to events around DC. I get to be around people rather than sitting at home alone.

Hell: I constantly have to ask how I can contribute, if there is anything I can do to help. I am largely unnecessary.   I sometimes wish they wouldn’t have hired me so that I could’ve pursued something where I’d at least be contributing my all.  I’m meeting people, but none in careers I am interested in pursuing. It’s not an environment where I can get a lot of advice for my future. It’s not an environment where I can meet people my age to socialize with outside of work.  Oh, and it’s unpaid.

3. I have a great boyfriend.

Heaven: I love him and he loves me. We’ve been dating more than 4 years, and even lived together in DC for 3 months. It was probably the happiest I’ve been in a long time.

Hell: He recently moved to Florida for a job, because his employment here in DC was more hellish than my purgatory-internship.  Unfortunately, it’s making him miserable. Which is making me miserable.

4. I have amazing friends.

 Heaven: They’re incredibly supportive.

Hell:  They are not in DC.

Among the many less serious things:

5. I recently solved a samuri sudoku in 45 minutes.

Heaven: I feel wicked smart.

Hell: I also feel this is more indicative of the fact that I have a lot of time on my hands than my level of  intelligence.

My name is Katie.  And I did consider making the blog’s title “authentikatie,” but the more I said it the more it sounded like the name of a cartoon superhero.  So, here we are.