Mpox, Media, and Misinformation: Why Queer Bodies Always Pay the Price

photo of someone in a hospital bed in a dimly lit room

Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash

When the mpox virus (formerly called monkeypox) started spreading in 2022, the headlines came quickly — and so did the stigma. Within weeks, mainstream outlets and social media users alike were calling it a “gay disease,” repeating the same tired script used during the AIDS crisis. Once again, queer men were positioned as both the victims and the villains of a public health emergency.

But here’s the truth: mpox is not an STD. It spreads through skin-to-skin contact, contaminated bedding and clothing, and even shared surfaces. To say otherwise isn’t just misleading — it’s dangerous. Misinformation, as scholars like Denniss et al. (2022) point out, has become as much of a public health threat as the virus itself. And when misinformation intersects with queerphobia, the result is stigma that harms LGBTQ+ communities long after the virus fades from headlines.

The Old Script: AIDS, COVID, and Now Mpox

We’ve seen this story before. During the AIDS crisis of the 1980s, HIV was quickly (and falsely) labeled “a gay disease,” justifying widespread discrimination against queer men. During COVID-19, conspiracy theories about China fueled a rise in anti-Asian violence. Viruses don’t just make people sick — they activate cultural fears, scapegoating, and structural violence.

Mpox is no different. Gay men worry the virus will become a political weapon, as Stack (2022) reported in The New York Times. Local governments even recommended abstinence for men who have sex with men — eerily echoing the moralistic failures of the AIDS era. This is what Susan Sontag once called the “metaphorization of illness”: when disease stops being medical and becomes social, moral, and punitive.

The Role of Media Misinformation

Why does this cycle keep happening? The answer lies in what media literacy theorist Renee Hobbs calls messages and meanings. The way stories are framed carries bias — and when bias is amplified by social media, it cements stereotypes.

Zhao et al. (2022) found that misinformation posts thrive on emotional triggers: fear, anger, disgust. Those emotions stick, shaping public opinion far more than CDC fact sheets ever could. And as misinformation circulates — especially among users who lack media literacy — it hardens into stigma.

For mpox, the message was simple: “this is a gay problem.” And with every share, every lazy headline, that falsehood gained legitimacy.

Stigma as Violence

The stigma is not an accident; it’s a form of structural violence. When a virus is tied to a marginalized group, resources flow slower, empathy runs thinner, and political leaders drag their feet. LGBTQ+ advocates have pointed out how governments repeated the failures of the AIDS years: limited vaccine access, contradictory public health messages, and a refusal to center the communities most at risk.

As NPR’s Treisman (2022) noted, stigma itself can become as harmful as the virus. Queer people may avoid seeking care for fear of being outed. Immigrants, people of color, and undocumented individuals may stay away from clinics altogether. In the end, the communities most stigmatized are also those left most vulnerable.

Why Media Literacy Matters

The fix isn’t only medical — it’s educational. Increasing media literacy means giving people the tools to tell fact from conspiracy, to identify bias in headlines, and to resist stereotypes that scapegoat marginalized groups. As do Nascimento et al. (2022) suggest, redirecting users to evidence-based sources and embedding media literacy into everyday education could slow the “infodemic” before it becomes stigma.

In other words: teaching people how to read media critically is a form of public health. It interrupts the cycle where misinformation breeds stigma, and stigma fuels inequality.

Conclusion: Refusing the “Right People Dying” Narrative

Queer people have been here before. From the AIDS crisis to mpox, the script of “blame the gays” resurfaces whenever society is looking for a scapegoat. But as feminists, media critics, and LGBTQ+ advocates, we can refuse that narrative.

Viruses are not moral punishments. Illness is not identity. And no one is ever “the right person” to die.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.