Remember AIDS?

There was a time, not so long ago, that the term “living with AIDS” would be considered an oxymoron.

But Monday, Nov. 7, will mark the 14th year since NBA superstar Magic Johnson shocked the world with the announcement he had contracted the HIV virus. I was 13 at the time, playing in my grandma’s house when my dad called me into the other room to watch something on the news. And I remember Peter Jennings announcing that Magic was HIV positive and would retire from basketball immediately, just five months removed from battling Michael Jordan for the NBA championship.

I remember thinking how sad it was that he was going to die so soon. I wondered how long he would make it – a few weeks? Months? The nightly news and the next day’s newspapers made it clear he would likely be around for a while longer, yet I still figured we would hear the sad announcement within a couple of years.

In the days that followed, AIDS was everywhere. We talked about it in school, it was all over TV, and was now on the front of the sports page. A disease ignored and denied even by the president just a few years earlier could no longer be dismissed. It was no longer a gay problem, though I remember the immediate reaction of many was not to say, “Magic Johnson got HIV and he’s straight,” but rather, “Magic must be gay.”

Soon, such thoughts dissipated. As Magic said in his press conference, “I think sometimes we think, well, only gay people can get it – ‘It’s not going to happen to me.’ And I’m here saying that it can happen to anybody, even me, Magic Johnson.”

His announcement sparked a dialogue about not only AIDS, but sex education, homosexuality, even race. It was discussed in prime time town meetings, late-night talk shows, classrooms, and campaigns. Was this the new plague?

Everyone seemed scared at the time, thinking an AIDS outbreak was about to spread like wildfire.

This fear has become less palpable over time, however. I was up into the early hours of the morning one night last February, watching reruns of old NBA All-Star games on Classic Sports, and the 1991 game came on. This was the game a few months after Magic had retired, which the NBA wisely let him play in after the fans voted him in despite his retirement. Magic not only played in the game, he astounded. He scored 25 points and won the MVP, topping it off with a string of 3-pointers.

Yet it brought back all my memories of the time. The famous announcement had come just four months earlier, yet I was not the only one anticipating a frail shell of the former Magic. AIDS was considered a death sentence, and certainly not manageable. It was now hard to believe how pervasive this thinking was at the time.

His performance helped change the image of AIDS, though when he attempted a comeback a year later, our understanding of the disease was such that other NBA stars, such as Karl Malone, were still afraid to play against him in fear they might contract the disease. This forced Magic back into retirement.

In 1996, five years after learning he had HIV, understanding had come to the point where he could make another comeback with his ability, rather than his disease, as the focal point of discussion. He was not his old self, but he was still very good, and in great shape. A 38 year-old, HIV positive man starring at the highest level of his sport was incredible.

Today, of course, Magic Johnson is still alive, and thriving. He is credited with changing so much of what we know and perceive about AIDS and HIV. Yet he might also be part of the reason for our complacency on the issue today.

Seeing him survive so well with the virus has taken it off the front pages and newscasts. It has removed our fear of the disease and pushed it to the back of our minds. Fourteen years after public service announcements proclaimed “Aids is everybody’s problem,” nearly 55 percent of Americans under 65 have never been tested for HIV or AIDS. Only 27 percent have done so in the past 12 months.

This growing complacency has had more serious consequences throughout the world. While the spread of HIV in the United States has slowed, it continues to ravage undeveloped countries, none more-so than in sub-Saharan Africa.

The United Nation’s 2004 “Report on the Global HIV/AIDS Epidemic” said no less than 25 million people in the region were living with HIV/AIDS in 2003. AIDS deaths have resulted in the orphaning of 12 million children, as well as 2.2 million deaths in 2003 alone. For perspective, consider that the U.S. Center for Disease Control estimates there are only 1,039,000 people living with HIV or AIDS in the U.S. today.

They don’t live with AIDS as Magic does. They die the way we used to think all AIDS patients died, pre-Magic. Frail, painful and often without the aid of doctors or their governments, often as young children.

While President Bush pledged to spend $15 billion over five years to help fight AIDS in Africa in his 2003 State of the Union speech, little of that promise has been fulfilled due to the administration’s reluctance to channel the money through organizations promoting the use of condoms and birth control.

Why does this matter? Because it helps breed desperation, and desperate countries do desperate things. Things like the African nation of Sudan did in sheltering Osama bin Laden and other members of Al Qaeda for several years. Thriving in a shrinking world, where we benefit from the labor and products of every corner of the globe, doesn’t afford us the option of ignoring inconvenient tragedies like the AIDS suffering of tens of millions.

This week, we can be happy Magic Johnson is still alive and well. We can be happy we have slowed the rise of the AIDS tide at home, at least for now. Yet the 14th anniversary of Magic’s fighting AIDS with an arsenal of drugs and money is a good opportunity for us to consider the plight of the millions around the world who can’t, even here in America.