A couple of weeks ago, I was fortunate enough to find myself in an unfamiliar city. I was immersed in the bustle, trying to find an address, fumbling with maps and searching for impossibly tiny street signs. In the moment, I was entirely self-absorbed and attempting to navigate the unknown. All of a sudden, about twenty feet ahead of me, the most unremarkable event occurred. A young woman, also apparently involved in her own thoughts, was almost killed by an oncoming car.
The reason I say “unremarkable,” despite the fact that the event was undoubtedly “remarkable” for the young woman involved, is because I’m sure all of us have witnessed a car screech in response to an unfortunately naïve pedestrian. But for some reason this one instance stuck out (and continues to) in my mind. Aside from being the closest brush with mortality I have ever witnessed without those involved actually “crossing over,” what makes the event so memorable to me was the reaction of all the *other* people on the street. I happened to be wandering around a very populated business district, and the streets were thick with self-important people hustling to their respective jobs. But as soon as the car came shooting around the corner and it became evident that neither the vehicle nor the woman was aware of the other’s existence, almost everyone in the vicinity yelled to warn her.
It was at this point that it occurred to me that even when people appear to be totally focused on their own lives, on getting to the correct address or scurrying to their offices, they apparently also have one eye open for strangers’ well-being. As one of the people who yelled, I can tell you I didn’t do it because I cared about this girl. I had no idea who she was, I still don’t. I cannot tell you why I yelled; I’m almost positive that had it not been quite so close, there’s no way I would have said anything. But I didn’t have time to think. Something in me simply took over and I shouted.
For the rest of my trip, like I said, I kept thinking about this one moment. It became apparent to me that people are hard-wired to look out for each other. This is not a novel assertion. I have taken enough evolutionary psychology classes to know that. Heroic acts can be written off as reciprocal altruism, and often are. But motives aside, the fact remains that human beings do in fact have some sort of drive to help other people, to actually prevent them from obvious death. This is a drive that is deeper than thoughts, a drive that lies somewhere in the snarled web of reflexes concealed below our conscious actions and desires.
As one of the leaders of Students for Microbicides and as an intern for Planned Parenthood whose specific job it is to promote awareness of microbicides, I spent most of winter break trying desperately to come up with ways to make the presence of mircobicides felt on campus. This is been a problem I have faced since September. For those of you who don’t know (and I do hope that it is fewer of you than we started with last semester), microbicides are a new technology that is essentially undetectable, comes in the form of a gel or foam, prevents the transmission of AIDS/HIV as well as other STI’s, and (optionally) can serve as a contraceptive. This is all without the use of a condom. As far as the AIDS pandemic is concerned, this little lube-like substance has the potential to radically alter the face of AIDS, especially in countries where condom use may be taboo or simply not publicized aggressively enough. It really, truly, is an amazing substance. Bill Gates recently donated $124 million dollars to promote microbicides research, and the XVI International AIDS Conference held this summer in Toronto, Canada highlighted their vast potential.
Currently, the bane of my existence is the simple fact that this wonderful substance to which I have committed so much time and energy is…a gel. Not only a gel, but a tasteless, odorless, colorless, “virtually undetectable” gel. I have asked myself a million times how one is supposed to promote an AIDS/HIV technology whose main selling point is that for all intents and purposes, when used correctly, it is entirely unnoticeable. How do you mobilize the masses around a gel?
Microbicides are substances whose existence can and will save millions of lives. I am asking you specifically as a human to tap into that very same hard-wired drive that led those strangers on the street to save the young woman’s life that day a few weeks ago. I am asking you to prevent the loss of millions of people to AIDS by calling or emailing your national congressmen and women and asking them to devote more funds to microbicides research.
This is a simple request that will not take more than five minutes of your time and which will, and I say this ardently, save countless lives. Microbicides are on the cusp of being mass-produced. They have shown success in trials of both their acceptability and their efficacy. All that is stopping their arrival in pharmacies, chemists, and community clinics around the world is funding.
Too few situations in life allow us the chance to reach out across divisions of race, class, nationality, gender, and ability to help each other out. This is one of those situations.
I, for one, will not stand by and know that when my help was needed most, I was not there to heed the call. I will not sit back apathetically in the comfort of the present and do nothing to prevent millions of deaths in the future; not when helping out can be as simple as one email. Haven’t we seen enough death already? Please do what you can to spread the word.
To find the contact information for your state and federal elected officials, visit www.congress.org and type in your zip code.
For more information about microbicides, visit www.global-campaign.org/s4m.htm.
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