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HIV on TV: Popular Culture's Epidemic Book Review

2019, Canadian Journal of Film Studies

BOOK REVIEWS | COMPTES RENDUS HIV ON TV: POPULAR CULTURE’S EPIDEMIC By Malynnda Johnson Lanham: Lexington Books, 2018, 167 pp. REVIEWED BY RYAN CONRAD, York University Malynnda Johnson’s HIV on TV: Popular Culture’s Epidemic (2018) is a welcome new addition to a body of HIV/AIDS-focused communication and media studies scholarship that largely ceased after the introduction of life-saving anti-retroviral medications in the mid-1990s. This older body of literature is dated in its analysis of mass communication strategies relaying information about and representations of the epidemic. Thankfully, Johnson’s research provides a much-needed update to this literature and dwells thoughtfully on the role that syndicated popular culture continues to play in how we represent the realities of HIV in the twenty-first century. In part 1, HIV on TV begins with the premise that television has a pedagogical function and is worth paying attention to as a medium that teaches as well as entertains. In the US context in which Johnson writes, she astutely notes that television may very well be the only sex education that generations of young Americans have received (135). Johnson’s task at hand is to better understand where stigma and fears about HIV/AIDS might stem from and how these may contribute to a lack of behavioural changes to prevent viral transmission of HIV. In part 2, Johnson breaks down the ways HIV/AIDS have been presented on American television by genre—news, medical dramas, crime dramas, teen dramas, daytime television, primetime, animated comedies, stand-up comedy— by using a structural analysis that attends not only to plot but to character, tone, and medical accuracy as well. Doing so, she examines patterns of how HIV/ AIDS has been used to introduce conflict in order to move storylines and deliver punchlines across series and genres. This is followed by a short analysis about how the use of HIV narratives deployed for reaction, ratings, and/or dramatic effect impact viewers’ perceptions of the disease and their own risk. Johnson’s research is methodologically rigorous, and she spends a significant amount of time detailing the inclusion/exclusion criteria for the types of syndicated programming she analyzes. The third part of the book examines whether or not the characters in television shows are varied and believable enough to prompt viewer identification and parasocial relationships with them. She does this by diving deeper into an examination of the types of characters presented on shows and evaluating the 88 CANADIAN JOURNAL OF FILM STUDIES / REVUE CANADIENNE D’ÉTUDES CINÉMATOGRAPHIQUES VOLUME 28 NO. 2 | FALL | AUTOMNE 2019 | PP 88–91 | 10.3138/CJFS.28.2.2019-0025 perception of risk amongst both young television viewers and the actors who portray HIV-positive characters. In all instances, Johnson imagines an audience of HIV-negative viewers and foregrounds the potential of television to illicit behaviour modification that decreases the viewers’ chances of seroconverting. HIV-positive viewers, and their need to see themselves reflected accurately and compassionately on screen, are absent from her analysis. In the fourth and final part of the book, Johnson reflects and restates her argument while making a direct appeal for readers to recognize that HIV isn’t simply a historic problem or a concern abroad in so-called developing countries but no longer domestically. She notes the issue today simply isn’t a question of people knowing less about HIV—of course there is plenty of factual information online—but a problem of engaging people who have been told over and over through a mediated discourse on HIV/AIDS that they don’t need to or wouldn’t want to know about HIV as it’s either not relevant to their lives or is a punishment for their actions. There are a number of common factual inaccuracies about HIV/AIDS repeated throughout the text for which the author fails to reference any supporting documents. Since the medical accuracy of each episode was evaluated as part of Johnson’s structural analysis, the following three instances are worth briefly noting and discussing as such inaccuracies undermine one’s faith in Johnson’s overall argument. These factual inaccuracies occur in chapters devoted to the formal analysis of genre and/or characters in relation to HIV. While discussing “The Political ’90s” in chapter 3, Johnson makes the claim that by 1994 half of the people living with HIV infection were women. It’s unclear if she is referring to the US or globally, but her previous two claims about morbidity are US-specific so one would assume she means the US. However, there are no citations to corroborate these claims. Data from the Centres for Disease Control shows that by 2010 men still accounted for 76 per cent of all people living with HIV in the US and, of those men, the majority are gay, bisexual, and other men who have sex with men.1 This demographic data is important to point out because a large focus of Johnson’s throughout the text is trying to understand why so much of the early representation of HIV on American television was of gay characters and why that stereotype of the disease has continued to stick despite how the epidemic has diversified since its onset. Absent here is also data about transgender people and HIV, whose absence on television— aside from the occasional depictions as sex workers, murder victims, or con artists—is glaring. While discussing crime dramas in chapter 4, Johnson commends the supposedly accurate medical advice a character receives where strategic positioning is derided. Strategic positioning, a harm reduction strategy among gay and bisexual men that is often paired with other strategies (e.g., serosorting, preexposure prophylaxis), in which penetrating is assumed to be lower risk than HIV ON TV: POPULAR CULTURE’S EPIDEMIC 89 being penetrated, remains a risk reduction tool despite the claims of Johnson and the writers of How to Get Away with Murder that strategic positioning is not sound medical advice. The Canadian AIDS Treatment Information Exchange (CATIE) notes that while strategic positioning is not the best strategy for remaining HIV-negative, receptive anal sex carries ten to twenty times more risk than insertive anal sex.2 Johnson makes the claim that this episode demonstrates the dangers of medically inaccurate information regarding risk. In discussing negative stereotypes of people with HIV on television in chapter 7, Johnson repeats the unfortunate and epidemiologically unsubstantiated insinuation that “prostitutes” are a high-risk population in the United States (100). Had Johnson looked at any of the alternative media practices of actual sex workers, from Carol Leigh’s campy safer-sex music video Safe Sex Slut (1989) and Gwendolyn’s animated short Prowling by Night (1990) to AIDS activist video documentaries like George Stamos’s Our Bodies Our Business (2016) that features sex worker activists Cheryl Overs, Valerie Scott, Danny Cockerline, and others, then she’d know that sex workers are “safe sex pros” who have been at the forefront of prevention and harm reduction efforts since the onset of the epidemic. Indeed, since HIV doesn’t travel on money, but in blood and semen, how the exchange of money for sex contributes to being high-risk is nothing but conjecture based on the presumed lack of agency or education of sex workers. Instead of confronting these myths, television relies on the “hooker with AIDS” trope and well-meaning scholars repeat the unsubstantiated claim in more professional medical language: “high-risk population.” While these inaccuracies are unfortunate, there are a number of more serious shortcomings that are worth noting in order to fill some epistemological gaps left by HIV on TV. First, Johnson’s text suffers from deep disciplinary silos. It’s hard to imagine a book about HIV/AIDS and moving images without looking to the theoretical work done by trailblazing cultural studies scholars. Absent from the text is any mention of Stuart Hall, Douglas Crimp, Alexandra Juhasz, Jan Zita Grover, José Muñoz, Cindy Patton, Gregg Bordowitz, Roger Hallas, Thomas Waugh, or Simon Watney, all of whom have published some of the most important and engaging scholarship on HIV/AIDS and cultural production, but who are not communications studies scholars. Paula Treichler, who has published with a number of scholars from the group mentioned above, is the only one cited by Johnson. Treichler was indeed a communications professor at University of Illinois. Why more than three decades of scholarship is ignored in favour of disciplinary boundaries may in fact be the greatest shortcoming of Johnson’s new book. The historic split between film studies (fine arts) and communication and media studies (social sciences) is painfully evident in this text’s blind spots. Despite the disciplinary limitations, the research is rigorous within the disciplinary borders of communication studies and offers a thorough explanation as to why this televisual research continues to be important as the HIV/AIDS 90 BOOK REVIEWS | COMPTES RENDUS epidemic caries on well into its fourth decade. There is, however, a minor oversight in not noting that television is not just a domain of popular culture. While alternative media, cable-access television, and other forms of activist moving image media are not the focus of Johnson’s research, by not mentioning or footnoting the rich history of alternative televisual media, it occludes the possibility of counter-programming, self-representation, and media making from below. Furthermore, the book does not deal with emerging audiovisual distribution platforms like Netflix, Hulu, Amazon, or YouTube, nor does it pay much attention to reality television, where numerous contestants have come out as HIVpositive—most notably MTV’s Real World, Bravo’s Project Runway, and Logo’s RuPaul’s Drag Race. While no book can do everything, at least noting these as important areas of research beyond the scope of the book would point readers in the directions they would need to go in order to gain a fuller grasp on televisual and/or syndicated representations of HIV/AIDS in the twenty-first century. The profound questions raised by the book regarding the use of HIV narratives on syndicated television, their impact on viewers’ perceptions of risk, the dwindling representations of HIV on television today, and the lack of sex education for young people resonates deeply despite the book’s minor faults and epistemological blind spots. As Johnson notes, when so many young Americans receive most, if not all, of their sex education from moving image media, questions of representation become tantamount for relaying accurate information through relatable characters in non-didactic storylines. Furthermore, the question not asked by Johnson, who again imagines television audiences as HIVnegative, is, What is at stake in terms of everyday representations of HIV-positive characters for HIV-positive viewers? As David Oscar Harvey argues in the fall 2013 issue of Jump Cut, many HIV-positive people yearn for representations of themselves despite the challenge of representing an undetectable serostatus.3 NOTES 1. 2. 3. “HIV and Men,” Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 12 November 2019, https:// www.cdc.gov/hiv/group/gender/men/index.html (accessed 14 November 2019). CATIE, “Per-act Risk of HIV Transmission,” https://www.catie.ca/en/hiv-canada/4/4-1/ 4-1-2 (accessed 12 November 2019). David Oscar Harvey, “Ghosts Caught in Our Throat: Of the Lack of Contemporary Representations of Gay/Bisexual Men and HIV,” Jump Cut 55 (2013), https://www.ejumpcut. org/archive/jc55.2013/HarveyPoz/index.html (accessed 12 November 2019). HIV ON TV: POPULAR CULTURE’S EPIDEMIC 91