Standing at the island in the middle of Jackson’s kitchen in his South Chicago home, the usually confident and assertive Lewis-Thornton was petrified. And the sharp-eyed Jackson could sense it.He said, ‘What is it? You pregnant?’ I said, ‘Nah, I’m not pregnant,” Lewis-Thornton re-called. Summoning all of her energy, she blurted out: “Rev-erend, I have AIDS.” Jackson thought she had misspoken. “He said, ‘You mean you have HIV?’ In his mind, everyone he saw with AIDS looked like they were dying. ‘No, I have AIDS.’” Lewis-Thornton began speaking rapidly, trying to quickly recount that she had donated blood in 1987 and dis-covered she had tested positive for HIV. She rushed to explain how she would rip labels off of prescription bottles and flush them down the toilet to keep others from learning of her dis-ease. She talked about her sud-den fatigue as her immune sys-tem began crashing. In 1992, she said, her HIV status crossed over to AIDS.
“Finally ,he said, ‘Stop.’” Lewis-Thornton took a deep breath and looked directly at Jackson. “He said, ‘Rae, I loved you before AIDS and I love you after AIDS’ and then we pray-ed,” Lewis-Thornton recalled. Finally, a sense of calm came over Lewis-Thornton after she shared her deepest secret. “Once I told Reverend and Mrs. Jackson, it didn’t matter. I could tell anyone after that,” she explained. Lewis-Thornton was infected with HIV the same way 85 per-cent of African-American wo-men are infected today – through heterosexual contact. “I’d never had a one-night stand. I never had sex on the first date. Over the years, I’ve made some mistakes, most wo-men do, but for the most part I was doing what normal women do,” said Lewis-Thornton. “You meet a guy, you think he’s wonderful, you have sex. Even-tually, the relationship ends. You cry about it and you go on to the next Mr. Right and the cycle keeps going until you get married.”