Niko Bell, The Sex Collective
The Guardian revealed on Nov. 5 that British researchers are close to creating a fast, personal, cell-phone operated STI detector. A small sample of urine or saliva placed on a chip would tell users if they had been infected by herpes, chlamydia or gonorrhea. Best of all, the whole kit could be sold for a dollar out of a vending machine.
That is, if you trust the hype. We have been burned before by promises of instant STI tests, and there is no reason to think that it will all work out this time. Not right away, anyway.
If we ever do get a fast and easy STI test, however, the implications would be dizzying.
The doctors creating the test say that their objective is to help people test themselves easily and privately. The most interesting part of this innovation, however, is the ability to test partners. For the first time ever, one could have some assurance that a sexual partner is clean without taking anybody’s word for it. What’s more, one could quite reasonably demand such assurance before having sex.
Suddenly, all sorts of situations come to mind. You meet a good looking guy or girl, you like how things are going, so you “swap chips” and see how it goes from there. Swapping chips could become the more personal version of making a relationship Facebook-official.
Honestly, though, I doubt that we will go so far anytime soon. STIs are still too prickly of a topic to penetrate common conversation. More likely, a test like this one will just enable responsible couples to check each other out before having sex. The real upshot will be more information available to more people at a much faster pace.
And that is where things get interesting. You see, few things make people less comfortable than knowing about STIs.
I was reading in a public study area once while four girls read a copy of across the table from me. They were remarking at an article by Lezlie Lowe. Lowe has written about her own STI several times in a refreshingly open way. “Why,” asked one of the girls in horror, “would she admit that?”
“I think,” I responded, “she wants to encourage people to talk about these things.”
“Well, it doesn’t make me want to talk about anything,” the girl responded primly. “It just makes me think that she’s a hoe bag.”
What Lowe’s intentions are is a question only she can answer. The former attitude towards STIs, however, is terrifyingly common, especially given how out of touch it is with reality. If the four girls were to represent the general population, three of them would some day be infected by oral herpes, one by genital herpes, and three by HPV. Not to mention anything else. STIs are no longer the domain of the remarkably promiscuous, if they ever were. In fact, being completely free of STIs is the domain of the remarkably unpromiscuous. Even if all four were infected, however, it is likely that only one would know it.
Returning to the new British STI test. What happens when information about the presence and extent of STIs becomes known to everyone? For one thing, my heart sincerely goes out to any of those four girls if — but more likely when — she discovers that she has contracted an STI. It is a tragedy that so many have been taught that STIs should bring shame. That tragedy comes home to roost with the distress of discovering that you are infected (and thus a ‘hoe bag’).
Perhaps, however, there could be an upside. Perhaps a test like this could flush things out into the open, force us to quit hiding from reality, and face the existence of STIs around us. Perhaps we could be more honest with ourselves, our society, and our partners about the risks and realities. Even better, perhaps we could do all this even if the Brits do not come through with a magic formula.
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