Maria Davis hosts M.A.D. Wednesday's, an event held on the second Wednesday of every month to feature new artists and raise awareness about HIV/AIDS in the African-American community. Photo by Jasmine Brown.

Beau Bostic stepped onto the stage of a Harlem nightclub with the swag of a hip-hop artist. In a spotless oversized white T-shirt and baseball cap, Bostic grasped the microphone and began to spit out lyrics about the trials of street life. At the front door, patrons paid a $10 cover charge and picked up free condoms.

Bostic is just one of the half-dozen artists featured recently as part of “M.A.D. Wednesday’s,” a show held on the second Wednesday of every month at the Shrine World Music Venue at 2271 Adam Clayton Powell Jr Blvd. in Harlem to raise awareness about HIV/AIDS in the African-American community.

Maria Davis, 51, an AIDS/HIV activist who hosts the monthly event, started M.A.D. Wednesday’s in the 1990s to provide a space where young R&B and hip-hop singers and comedians could hone their skills. It has showcased artists such as Brandy, Monica, Jay-Z, and the late Bernie Mac.

Davis still holds the event to promote new talent, but after being diagnosed with AIDS in 1998, she incorporated HIV/AIDS awareness into the show. She now hands out condoms and raises funds for the AIDS Walk in addition to letting patrons have a sneak peak at the newest up-and-coming artists.

“Young people are so heavily informed by the hip-hop community,” Davis said. “I think that it would be a great thing for them to not only give the message of safe sex, but to give hope to the hopeless.”

Bostic, 30, of Red Hook, Brooklyn, is a hip-hop artist who heard about the event through Facebook.

He said he’s grateful to people like Davis who teach him about the risks of having unprotected sex.

“Sometimes you get into situations where you may be on the way to being intimate with a female and without a condom,” Bostic said. “It’s only through these outlets, news papers, radio, magazine, TV, it is only through these outlets that those thoughts start to rush into your head and you are like, ‘You know, let’s just wait. Let’s just do the right thing.’”

Davis was a successful hip-hop promoter, soon to be featured on the debut album of rapper Jay-Z when she received a letter that changed her life. She had taken an HIV test as part of an application for a life insurance policy and the results came back positive.

“I thought that my life was over because at the time when I found out I was HIV positive in 1995, medications weren’t even out yet, they were just starting to get a handle on the disease,” Davis said. “At that time we thought that HIV was a gay white man’s disease.”

Davis contracted HIV unknowingly from her boyfriend, a man she thought she was going to marry. Three years later, she was diagnosed with AIDS.

“I was scared and afraid and thinking about death,” she said.

Her health took a turn for the worst. The disease was eating away at her body and she was rapidly losing weight. Davis said she was on the verge of death when she turned to the Bible for help.

She became an AIDS activist soon after and has since dedicated her life to teaching African-Americans about the disease.

HIV/AIDS disproportionately affects African-Americans. According to the U.S. Office of Minority Health, under the U.S. Department of Health & Human Services, African-Americans were nine times more likely than whites to be diagnosed with HIV in 2008. And while African-Americans represent just 12 percent of the U.S. population, they accounted for 48 percent of all new HIV infections in 2009, according to the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation.

Davis said she still encounters many myths about HIV/AIDS.

“There are still people that think that AIDS is a curse, that people that get AIDS deserve to get AIDS, that their behavior should have been different, that they are promiscuous,” Davis said.

The Centers for Disease Control attributes the high rate of HIV to lack of awareness, limited access to healthcare and HIV prevention education. The CDC also calls attention to the stigma surrounding HIV/AIDS in the African-American community, which prevents many at risk individuals from seeking testing and counseling due to a fear of being shamed.

Deborah Levine, Vice President of Community Development for the National Black Leadership Coalition on AIDS based in New York City, called the numbers “staggering.”

Levine said it is important to talk outside the box about sex and sexuality, and to take the message from inside the doctor’s office to more unconventional venues.

“It starts with prevention, it starts with telling people about what the epidemic is, how they can not be come infected, where they can get tested and if positive where they can get treatment,” she said.

An AIDS ribbon displayed on National AIDS Day. While many people lose their lives from AIDS, Michael Stone has lived with the disease for 27 years.

Michael Stone staggered to his apartment late at night, unlocked his door and trudged to the bathroom. He looked into the mirror, and saw an image that would change his life. His face had been partially paralyzed by several small strokes caused by cocaine abuse. His nose was caked with powder, and his whole body was coated in sweat.

He was living with AIDS, and he was trying to kill himself. He knew he had to stop.

“Something inside of me said, ‘This has got to give,’ ” Stone said. “I don’t know if it was a higher power, but something said, ‘There’s a better life for you.’ ”

Since that night in February 2006, Stone has cut off the use of drugs and alcohol. The 53-year-old Fresh Meadows, Queens, native was diagnosed with AIDS in 1983. Although he’s lived with the disease for 27 years, he said he’s only recently come to terms with what living with AIDS means.

“I would run from club to club, doing cocaine, drinking and, if a little weed came a long, that’s OK, too,” Stone said. “I think subconsciously I was trying to kill myself.”

Stone knew how to run from reality. He had mastered the technique in the early ’80s, when he convinced himself that he didn’t have HIV or AIDS, even after he developed thrush on the inside of his mouth. The infection is often a telltale sign of HIV contraction.

“My doctor kept telling me to get tested and I said, ‘Why bother? There’s no cure,’ ” Stone said. “In the back of my mind, I knew something was wrong. But if I found out I had the disease, then what’s going to happen?”

After several months of prodding, Stone’s doctor convinced him to take an HIV test. When the results were in, his doctor gave him the news over the phone.

“All of a sudden, I felt like a big disease,” Stone said. “I felt like a bomb around people.”

Michael Stone tells the story of how he first found out he had AIDS.
michael stone AIDS phone call

Stone’s doctor told him he had a T-cell count of seven. T-cells are used as an indicator of a person’s immune system. The lower the number of T-cells, the more damage the HIV virus has done to the body. Anyone with below a 200 T-cell count is considered to have AIDS.

“My doctor told me, ‘I can’t believe you’re still walking around,’ ” Stone said. “She let me know that I was very lucky to be alive.”

Stone was diagnosed just after doctors were starting to realize that AIDS was infectious.

Dr. David Posner worked at Lenox Hill Hospital on the Upper Eastside in the early ’80s. In 1982, the disease was known as Gay-Related Immune Deficiency, an ailment that continually perplexed Posner and his colleagues. What was at first a fascinating disease quickly turned into a devastating health crisis when AIDS started killing thousands of New Yorkers.

“It started to devastate the gay community,” Posner said. “People would die within a year or two of their diagnosis. It was a holocaust of death.”

Stone survived when AIDS was at its most lethal. He started taking a drug cocktail that kept the disease at bay while he continued to abuse drugs and alcohol. He also maintained a steady job, dressing windows at Lord & Taylor on Fifth Avenue in the Fashion District.

But Stone could not chase away his demons. Although AIDS had not claimed his life, Stone knew the disease would always be a part of his existence. That helped him justify his drug abuse.

“I felt like, if I die, fine — I die happy,” Stone said. “There’s no cure, so what’s the point?”

Stone also struggled to gain acceptance from his family. Other than his father and one of his three brothers, Stone said his relatives have not been supportive of his gay lifestyle. This is particularly true of Stone’s mother.

“She has a real problem with this whole gay thing,” Stone said. She always has, “since I was in 7th grade.”

In 2000, Stone broke both of his heels trying to get into his apartment on the second floor after he forgot his keys. He knew there was cocaine inside the house and his desperate need for the drug got the best of him, he said. He climbed to his window, but he couldn’t pull himself inside the apartment. He dangled, helplessly, until he finally decided to drop to the ground.

When he was released from the hospital, Stone’s mother offered to take him in and care for him at her home in Kew Gardens, Queens. Stone said he hoped his time at his mother’s house would help the two reconnect. But it turned out to be disastrous.

Although he was confined to a wheelchair, Stone said his mother refused to help him with chores such as cooking and washing the dishes. The two often bickered. Once when his nephews visited the house, Stone said his mother accused him of trying to give them AIDS.

“It was the worst experience of my life,” Stone said. “I don’t think any parent should treat their child that way.”

Stone points to his mother’s behavior as a sign that the stigma around AIDS and HIV is alive and well. He mentions a conversation he had with a nurse six months ago as further proof of the cloud that hovers over the disease.

“She saw on my chart that I had AIDS and she said, ‘Oh, that’s too bad. You seem like such a nice person,’ ” Stone said. “I was like, oh, what? Only bad people get AIDS? The stigma’s not as bad as it used to be, but it’s still there.”

While he said he would never automatically label a person with AIDS as a “bad person,” Posner said people must exercise personal responsibility to avoid contracting the virus.

“This is a disease that can be wiped out with behavioral changes,” Posner said. “A kid who’s 18 years old won’t take the same precautions as someone who was around when the epidemic first broke out. They weren’t there, so they don’t know how horrible it was.”

Dr. Monica Sweeney, assistant commissioner of the city Health Department’s Bureau of HIV/AIDS Prevention and Control, echoes Posner’s sentiments. She said the city’s health department must continue to work to educate people about safe sex. But, ultimately, it’s up to individuals to kill the disease.

“The government can’t be in the room with you to force you to put the condom on,” Sweeney said. “It’s not the government’s job to make that decision.”

Francisco Roque, director of community health at Gay Men’s Health Crisis in Chelsea, said an emphasis on individual choice makes it more likely for people to blame HIV on the people who carry the virus.

“People have a tendency to say, ‘What’s wrong with this person, or what’s wrong with that group?’ ” Roque said. “They say the information about AIDS is out there; condoms are available. So where’s the disconnect? Why are people engaging in risky behavior?”

Roque said the spread of HIV has as much to do with people’s social networks as anything else. For example, one in 10 gay men in New York have HIV.

“So simply by being a gay man living in New York, your chances of contracting HIV are higher than, say, a straight male,” Roque said. “It has to do with the social pool you’re swimming in. Some pools have greater instances of HIV.”

Roque said he’s had many conversations with people who can’t understand how people who now have HIV could behave so irresponsibly.

“I try to turn the conversation around and ask, ‘Have you ever had unprotected sex?’ ” Roque said. “Nine times out of 10, the answer is yes. Then I say, so what’s the difference between what these people are doing and what you’ve done in your life?”

Promoting safe sex is key to stopping the spread of HIV, Roque said, but so is irradiating the stigma that surrounds the virus.

“We have to address it so that people feel comfortable talking about HIV,” Roque said. “That way, people will realize the virus is in their social networks.”

Stone said dialogue is key to stopping AIDS in its tracks. That’s one of the reasons he started working at the AIDS Center of Queens County four years ago, shortly after the night he decided to quit drugs and alcohol.

Stone talks about how he battle back from two decades of drug and alcohol addiction.
michael stone recovering from addiction

“I tell people my story,” Stone said. “I let them know they’re not alone.”

Stone talks to people as much for his own good as for theirs. He said sharing his experiences has helped him stay sober and come to grips with his disease.

“Now I think of it as just something I have to be aware of and take care of,” Stone said. “It doesn’t mean my life is over. I just have to pay careful attention to my health.”

At 53, Stone must also contend with other health issues besides AIDS. He takes medicine for asthma and allergies. He also takes vitamins for energy, because he said the virus can sometimes leave him feeling exhausted.

“You sort of play this game where you think, ‘Is my back hurting because of the virus, or is it hurting because I’m 53?’ ” Stone said. “We all change, but it’s part of getting older as much as anything else.”

Stone explains what a day in his life feels like.
michael stone day in the life

Stone said the cocktail of drugs he takes to combat HIV has had relatively minor side effects such as stomach cramps and unusually vivid dreams.

“If I lay out all my medications and think about all the stuff I’m taking, I get depressed,” Stone said. “But I have to think of these medicines as my life force. If I don’t take them, I won’t exist anymore.”

Stone talks about how he came to terms with taking his AIDS medication.
michael stone coming to terms with the medicine

Stone said he reminds himself how fortunate he is to still be here after living with AIDS for 27 years and enduring more than two decades of drug and alcohol abuse.

“I know I’m very lucky to be alive,” Stone said. “I’m not sure why I’m still here, but maybe it’s so I can help people who are going through the same things I’ve experienced.”

Michael Chung, an acting instructor in the Department of Allergy & Infectious Diseases at University of Washington, has lived in Kenya for the last six years doing work through the Center for AIDS Research.

Dr. Stephen Brown was living in Philadelphia when his friends began to die.

Brown, the director of clinical research at the AIDS Research Alliance (ARA) in California, knew then that he wanted to join the fight.

“I ended up taking a research fellowship at the University of California in San Diego, in the HIV Neurobehavioral Research Center,” he said. “I basically lost almost all of my cohorts and I decided I wanted to do what I could to start attacking this disease.”

Brown is one of hundreds of researchers studying AIDS in the United States. And for many of these scientists, doctors and lab technicians, the work is personal.

AIDS is a medical condition resulting from the progression of HIV. Simply put, it knocks out the body’s immune system, leaving it vulnerable to a variety of infections. Once-exotic diseases or otherwise harmless bacteria became life threatening. Death used to be assumed. But the rules have changed, thanks in large part to antiretroviral drug therapies. These drugs — often taken in “cocktails” of three or more medications (known as HAART, highly active antiretroviral therapy), significantly reduce the amount of HIV cells in the body.

As the course of the disease has changed, so has the research. Brown used to conduct clinical trials involving dementia, which was a big issue for people with HIV/AIDS prior to antiretroviral therapy. He now studies medical interventions to treat, prevent and eventually cure AIDS. Founded in 1989 by a group of physicians in Los Angeles, ARA is about sharing efforts and information for a more efficient process. In the beginning, Brown recalled, they considered everything from shark cartilage to garlic extracts.

“People were really, really desperate,” he said.

The group is now working on a drug called prostratin, used in traditional Samoan herbal medicine for the treatment of yellow fever. This plant extract may help attack “viral reservoirs” in HIV-positive patients who are being treated with antiretroviral drugs.

“There’s a pool of cells that remain infected,” Brown said. “So the idea is how do you try to get at these infected cells, this reservoir.”

Though the medical research is exciting, what really makes a difference for Brown is putting his research into practice. He once treated a patient with neuropathy, a painful condition affecting some HIV-positive patients that causes a burning sensation in the hands and feet. The man had to wear flip-flops because he was in so much pain. But after treatment, he returned to the doctors wearing his cowboy boots, which he hadn’t been able to do for years. For others, treatment has literally pulled them from the brink of death.

“We had a patient who’d been on his deathbed for a really, really long time,” Brown said. “We were doing a study for Merck of an integrase inhibitor, which is a new kind of antiretroviral. For the first time in 10 years, this person went undetectable. He was able to work out again, his energy level came up.”

But for every success story, there are frustrating losses.

“There’s people who just missed it by a year or two,” Brown said. “One of my best friends ended up dying in 2002. He needed the next set of new medications and he just didn’t live long enough to see this new round of medications come out.”

Though the vaccine study that ARA conducted nearly two years was unsuccessful, a vaccine isn’t out of the question. And like the vaccine for cervical cancer, it may be administered as a matter of course.

“I anticipate it would be the kind of thing you would give adolescents before they become sexually active,” Brown said. “There’s some people that feel you’re sending the wrong message to children, but I think should a vaccine like this come out and it worked effectively, most physicians or researchers would make sure their kids got it.”

But the benefit of such advances comes to developed countries first. Dr. Titilayo Abiona, director of research at the HIV/AIDS Research and Policy Institute at Chicago State University, has seen the disease in the U.S. and Nigeria. She knows firsthand how profoundly HIV-positive patients are affected by treatment and testing.

“Here in the U.S., treatment is available to anybody,” she said. “If you test positive, you can access treatment. In Nigeria, it wasn’t like that. When I left in 2006, there were a lot of people who knew their status who couldn’t get care.”

Abiona said many people can barely afford the necessities of life, much less medications. She once raised money so a patient could receive HIV treatment, but the woman spent the money on food and other basics instead.

Abiona said that free HIV testing in the U.S. also encourages more people to learn their status. When she was in Nigeria, testing was limited and it cost the patient money. Many people figured that if they had to pay for a test, and then discover they had a disease they couldn’t get treatment for, then why bother knowing?

“There’s a lot of denial about HIV and, of course, the stigma is rife,” she said. “And there’s stigma here too.”

She also said there may be a connection between HIV infection rates and religion in the Nigerian population — a phenomenon that requires further exploration.

“When I was doing HIV testing for pregnant women in two communities in Nigeria, one was a predominantly Muslim community, and I didn’t get one single case of HIV there,” she said. “In the other area, where they are more Christian and more liberal — yes, there were cases there.”

U.S. research organizations are sharing information here and abroad in a way that was sorely lacking when the disease first emerged. Michael Chung, an acting instructor in the Department of Allergy & Infectious Diseases at University of Washington, has lived in Kenya for the last six years doing work through the Center for AIDS Research (CFAR), which partners with the university. For the doctor, this is an ideal situation.
“The large majority of people who are affected are in poorer countries,” he said, “I wanted to do research that would have an impact on people in these countries and would allow me to practice medicine as well as do research.”

After practicing medicine in refugee camps, Chung knew he wanted to help people in resource-limited settings. His work in Kenya, so desperately needed, also answers important questions about treatment for patients in the United States.

“For example, starting out doing programmatic work in terms of setting up an HIV clinic in Kenya answered questions like: How do we keep people on medications for a long period of time,” he said. “I was able to ask better questions or more relevant questions, rather than ivory tower questions that were academically interesting but wouldn’t have any impact on the ground.”

As more people survive with HIV, a new cluster of symptoms and complications arise. Chung has studied behavioral interventions to enhance medications, in addition to implementing cervical cancer screening among HIV-positive women. Because many people no longer die of AIDS, Chung said the next big killer among women infected with HIV could be cervical cancer.

The clinic Chung helped establish in Kenya began with one woman, Grace, an HIV-infected woman who worked with Chung when he first arrived in 2002. It was obvious that she was dying of AIDS. She had skin cancer, fevers and other complications that kept her from work. Chung got $1,000 — enough money to treat her for a year. Grace’s 9-year-old daughter was also infected, and she wanted the treatment for her. With the help of additional funding, both mother and child are healthy and continuing their lives. Chung said this is a common problem for cash-strapped Kenyans who are dealing with multiple infected family members.

Based on this success, Chung received more funding and eventually set up the Coptic Hope Center for Infectious Diseases in collaboration with the Coptic Hospital. The clinic has seen over 8,000 patients and placed more than 4,000 people on antiretroviral medication.

“Just from treating Grace, this has turned into this huge treatment center that is really helping thousands of people,” Chung said.

But with so many patients, people sometimes disappear and are never heard from again. That’s what happened to Rosabella, a patient whose children both died of AIDS. She eventually stopped coming to the clinic, and Chung thinks she is probably dead, as well.

The idea that a person infected with HIV can now live a long and relatively normal life is inconceivable to people both in the U.S. and overseas. Chung said it’s one of the biggest misconceptions he has encountered. When a patient who had lived on antiretroviral medication for over a decade spoke to a group of Kenyans, Chung recalled that it sent a shock through the crowd. After so much death, they were amazed that HIV/AIDS could be treatable.

“There’s a lot of people who feel that HIV is a death sentence,” he said. “But the reality is that so many people have survived for so long on antiretroviral therapy that we can treat it as a chronic disease now, like diabetes or hypertension.”

In the U.S., Chung has seen a shift in cultural misconceptions about treating populations in poor countries. He remembered when he first began in 2002, there was a feeling among many American HIV experts that building up drug resistance would be a problem for people who couldn’t tell time and take their medications consistently. But this has not been an issue.

“It’s been a paradigm shift for people,” he said. “They’re not just saying, ‘We should prevent HIV,’ which is true, but also seeing that these lives should not be lost either.”