AS I LISTEN to what black people in the United States have to say about HIV and AIDS, it seems we have only learned what we were willing to learn and we continue suffer for that which we refuse to learn.

It does not help our complicated situation to blame this shortfall entirely on the effects of racism that entrap us.

Is it our threadbare pride and our puffed up prejudices that ensnarl us? It seems that we lack the will required to take on that which frightens us most, and that is not AIDS itself but rather that which AIDS forces us to examine.

And so it is that 20 years into this epidemic, the topic that dominates black discourse about AIDS is “men on the down low.”

About three years ago and lacking any supporting scientific evidence other than some misinterpreted CDC data, the media began suggesting that black men on the D.L. were responsible for the mounting HIV infection rates among black women.

Public health officials largely ignored black gay and bisexual men, but they did reach out to black women with TV and radio commercials and billboard slogans that urged sisters to “respect yourself, protect yourself!”

NOW IT SEEMS the focus has shifted from safer sex education and the empowerment of black women to this resounding alarm about men on the D.L.

Prevention strategies, funding shortages and grassroots advocacy are getting far less attention.

J.L. King’s book “On the Down Low” and his appearance on “The Oprah Winfrey Show” have placed him at center stage.

King talked about the collective anger his book has aroused among black gay men. When I first read the book’s premise, I too was angry because I suspected that King was profiting from the anxieties of black women and exploiting closeted black men.

Now having read the book, I am no less angered but for different reasons.

King should be acknowledged for revealing so much about his experience as a brother on the D.L.

I particularly appreciate that he underlined the hypocrisy of black pastors and their congregations who ostracize men who have sex with men, lie about their own secret sexual hook ups, and present themselves as loving Christians.

And in stating the reasons why so many closeted men stay in the closet, King helped explain some of the barriers that thwart our response to the epidemic.

BUT KING IS described on the book jacket as an HIV and STD activist and educator and must be held accountable for what he presents as fact as opposed to opinion or personal experience.

He implies that black women are becoming infected at disproportionately high rates because they are having sex with men on the D.L. and that D.L. men categorically do not use condoms.

But King offers no evidence to prove that D.L. men are less likely to use condoms than any other men, or that women are becoming infected any more frequently from D.L. men than from injection drug users or HIV-positive men who have disclosed their HIV status or their bisexuality.

This is an irresponsible misrepresentation that perpetuates the vilification of same-sex desire and behavior of black men.

Black men have historically been portrayed as sexual predators and throughout this epidemic as vectors of disease. The current spotlight on men on the D.L. is not only a means to enlighten us, it also helps many justify their scapegoating.

Moreover, the message suggests that women only need be concerned about protecting themselves if they suspect that their men might be having sex with other men. I am concerned that this may encourage women to abdicate responsibility for their own health.

King’s cursory characterization of bisexual men as men who “want it all” is false and judgmental. He cautions the church about castigating gay men but then spreads negative myths about bisexual men. His contradictions exemplify what troubles our HIV prevention efforts and our acceptance of our own sexual diversity.