Thursday 19 September 2013

The Death Threat story

A little while ago I was contacted through the blog by someone from a site called Readwave. It's an interesting site where people write short stories of about 1,000 words and post them. Stories of inspiration and the like. I was invited to contibute.

Wasn't sure what exactly to write  about. So much choice just in this blog alone of my experiences. But being as David is going through something similar with the discrimination case, I chose a story relevant to that. It's about the death threat I was sent through Facebook early last year, and how I found it empowering to stand up for myself in that situation.

You can read the story here on the Redwave site, or just read it below. I dunno what people may or may not think of it as it's likely the audience has little idea about what people with HIV go through. So I guess it raises some awareness of living with HIV today.
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Death Threat.

I sat in court waiting for the magistrate. I hoped it wasn’t going to be too long before my case came before her. Sometimes you can end up waiting most of the day if you’re just representing yourself. I’d gone through the court registrar on my own for the case, which involved a death threat sent through Facebook.

“Yo Pee Eater, we feel sorry for you u are positive and u lived your whole life in a lie, but I’m not here to end this quick you have to suffer faggot !!! and what was the whole shit about I’m staying away from the pub, get a life but sorry count your days ‘beach’ but there are not many left and I’m not helping u get out quicker even I’d love to !!! fuck off !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”


His name was Oliver and was a friend of a friend at the local pub. We’d had somewhat of a disagreement and he’d left, later sending me the message. I’d not read it until next morning, and initially had laughed it off. However after taking a screen shot and email to some people for their opinion, it became clear that something needed to be done. They were actually concerned for my safety after reading it. They considered that he was quite nuts and who knew what he might do. One said the message was “so cruel”.


I was conflicted. I wondered if it was really worth going through all the hassle of an Apprehended Violence Order (AVO) against him. There was also some guilt that I’d not realised was even there before; part of my head simply said that “you deserve this, you fucked up, you’ve got HIV”. It was relevant as he’d used my HIV against me in the threat. That itself inferred that it was my fault I got it. Had been to years of counselling but was still surprised at this residual guilt.


So I went to the court registrar after making an appointment who listened to my case and read the screen shot from Facebook. I was wondering if there was enough of a case to even be bothered with, but after she read the threat she put the paper down decisively and started to type up my statement on the PC there. I was quite nervous about it all at this point. Oliver wasn’t going to like this at all, and AVO’s have somewhat of a reputation in Australia as being used to get back at someone. Oliver’s friend at the pub even told me later that “It wasn’t a death threat”.


So I chatted to the registrar as she put my statement into a form easiest for the magistrate to read. She considered the case seriousness, and suggested I go into court that day to get the AVO effective immediately rather than to have to wait for the court date. I didn’t want to be waiting in court for half a day, but she said she’d give my paperwork to the magistrate and get it seen to quicker, but no guarantees. Reluctantly I agreed. I didn’t want to be waiting around for ages, but I’d been surprised at how seriously the registrar had taken my case and to be honest was worried about waiting a week or two for the court date without an interim AVO to cover me. So I went into court.


Surprisingly it only took about 15 minutes and the magistrate called my name. I stood and she clarified what exactly I wanted as being an interim AVO. Then she read my statement. I saw her eyes move quickly down the page and her expression change as she read the Facebook death threat. A moment later she declared the granting of an interim AVO “on the strength of the Facebook message”.


I was slightly stunned. Wow. Apparently this was a full on death threat, so serious as for the magistrate to grant an immediate AVO. I left the court feeling surprised and happy at the outcome so far.


A week or so later I sat in court again as it was the court date. Oliver had been served with the court papers and told to appear. He was on the other side of the courtroom. It felt a bit strange being in the same room with him, but that’s just how they do it. We had to wait ages as, again, I was representing myself. He was also; evidently he didn’t think it serious enough to warrant hiring a solicitor.


Eventually our case came up. Oliver moved to the microphone on my side of the court room and the magistrate had me move to the other. After reading through the paperwork she asked me how long I wanted the AVO for, me replying “One year”. Oliver started arguing with the magistrate into the microphone saying “Where was the violence?”. I rolled my eyes.


She granted the AVO after Oliver’s arguing. I waited for 5 or so minutes to make sure he’d left the building before leaving the court room, and on my way out I started to realise the significance of this whole thing.


Yes I was HIV+; a disease couched in ignorance, stigma, shame and hate. Yes Oliver had used my HIV against me, abusing and threatening. In many places in the world few people would bat an eyelid at an HIV+ person being mistreated. After all they deserved it didn’t they? They could have avoided it, right? So it was with some trepidation that I proceeded with this case.


Yet the judgment was for me. The court registrar, the magistrate, the law, society, had sided with me. Yes I have HIV, but no that doesn’t mean it’s OK to be mistreated. It doesn’t mean ignorance, stigma and hate is OK. I don’t deserve anything except equal and fair treatment. It means I can stand up for myself without fear that my disease will be used to negate my rights.


 

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