Open mouth, insert foot . . .
December 1st was World AIDS Day. Driving to work I listened to BBC, whose coverage of AIDS news was not just thorough, but relentless. Half an hour later, sitting at my desk (on my fat white privileged ass), I said something positively Rush-worthy: “I’ll start caring about AIDS when people I know start getting it . . . and I don’t know anybody with AIDS.”
My secretary turned to me and said, “Yes, you do. My adopted son has AIDS. He was born HIV-positive.”
A while back, I blogged about the people I work with. Damn. I don’t know the half of it!
You know what? The minute I uttered those words I knew they were made to be eaten. I just didn’t know how soon I’d be choking them down. Shame on me.