Often, when I'm asked to talk about crystal metham-phetamine, I assume people expect a heartwarming story about recovery or a tragic account of addiction. My take on crystal doesn't follow an easy-to-read People magazine format. I'm concerned, angry and afraid about the impact this drug has on my life and the lives of people around me. Before I moved to San Francisco in July 1994, I knew nothing about it. To me, "going on a run" meant jogging or a trip with a motorcycle club, not being high for a few days.
Six months later, two friends and I put on a "speed symposium" to help increase dialogue. Since then, I've organized two more public forums on speed and worked to bring attention to the issue, such as helping with the new "Crissy" advertising campaign put out by the STOP AIDS Project.
I've tried to walk a narrow path between tolerance and activism. For the record, I don't think everybody who uses regularly gets hooked. I have friends who party with crystal and don't have dramas or big trouble. I'm passionate about harm reduction, and I don't have an ax to grind about how much is too much to use. Instead of listing the alarming statistics and studies that show why I'm concerned (though I have a file two inches thick), I'd like to share a little local and personal history.
Since amphetamines were invented in the 1930s, there have been three major epidemics of addiction in the Bay Area. The first was right after World War II, when amphetamines were prescribed for everything from depression to weight loss, until a few too many people got too kooky. After amphetamines became a controlled substance, underground entrepreneurs maintained a stable supply in the Bay Area, though it was used by fewer consumers for a decade or so.
According to many, 1967's Summer of Love went sour not only because the world wasn't quite ready for the Age of Aquarius, but also because too many hippies, such as Charles Manson, turned on to amphetamines. Speed became associated with uncontrolled violence and insanity.
Cocaine and "designer" drugs, like Ecstasy and Valium, had their days in the '70s and '80s. Nobody can say exactly why, but crystal methamphetamine slowly became more popular again during the past 10 years.
There are three main reasons I think crystal meth is "the bomb" again in San Francisco. One is access. Cocaine is imported, and designer drugs became tightly controlled or illegal. The inexpensive, industrial chemicals used to make crystal are easily available here. It's probably the easiest amphetamine to make, and there's a huge number of crystal labs all around us. It's relatively cheap and plentiful.
Crystal's easy to use "socially" in lines like cocaine or in chic little pills. You can do it at home, even shoot up, then hit the streets or clubs for hours without having to recharge your high. Often, the effects of uppers such as crystal are more easily denied or less noticeable than those of downers or hallucinogens. One can seem a bit more coherent--or at least convince oneself so. Even heavy crystal-users don't necessarily use every day, so one can evade the question of addiction.
Above all, the best single reason I know for the popularity of crystal meth in San Francisco is "it's the best antidepressant in the world." Users and treatment experts alike frequently say this. So, I wonder, what are we so depressed about?
AIDS is the most obvious answer. Some people are trying to put grief behind them with a bump or a line, others are people living with AIDS who can only step out of a wheelchair and feel a little bit normal for a while after they slam some liquid crystal.
Some use crystal to "self-medicate" for unresolved, internalized homophobia, low self-esteem or even as some means of coping with the demands and frustrations of our competitive society. In the age of health-care downsizing, it's harder to get any regular mental-health help at all. It's a touchy point, but I think there's always a portion of any community vulnerable to overindulgence in substances, whether we choose to call it "novelty-seeking behavior" or the more judgmental "self-destructive tendencies."
I get most angry at the complicity of those who muffle all complaints and criticism about speed use. Of course, they will let you speak if--and only if--you're currently in recovery. Supposedly, I'm only allowed to care if I've been strung out myself.
How about being upset about my friend whose partner's crystal use leads them to squabbles, then violence, police intervention and their eventual breakup? As he tells me this and says how important it is that I promote awareness of crystal problems, he asks me if I know where he can score some. I am floored.
Another friend calls me in a panic to discuss oral sex. I find out that some A-list professional friend of his with advanced degrees was on a crystal binge and, six hours into having oral sex with a trick, tasted blood in his mouth, which led later to testing positive. I am amazed and disturbed.
How about my ex-boyfriend who demands help four days into self-guided detox, two months since I've last seen him? Instead of a quiet Sunday, I get to run a residential treatment center for one and hear how he thinks he lost his job by not showing up for three days, his roommates want him to leave, and his new boyfriend is upset with him.
I sail down Castro Street recently, only to be stopped by another friend, whom I know is often behind in the rent because of his crystal habit. He compliments me on my work in HIV prevention, but chides me for "getting caught up with those anti-drug people." Of course, he's never asked me what I think or how I feel about it.
These are just four examples. I purposely picked ones from my private life, not including the dozens of messy lives I know about from my professional and volunteer work at the Marin AIDS Project and the STOP AIDS Project.
So what to do? I think we can be honest and provide useful information to people about crystal methamphetamine. I'm glad to support some excellent resources here, including the www.tweaker.org website in the works. Beyond information, I believe we can learn to speak out more, not just for our loved ones who use crystal, but to challenge community silence.
Can we make the world a place where people may take drugs, but don't need them to get through each day? I'm a romantic fool who dreams of queer youth born in a new millennium asking an ancient queen like me, "Why were so many people using so much crystal way back in the '90s?" I'll hope to say, "That was before we changed a lot of things for the better."
By Matthew Denkla, The STOP AIDS Project. Reprinted by permission of San Francisco Frontiers Magazine, Volume 16, Issue 7, July 31, 1997.
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