This message is for the YOUTH and YOUTHFUL.

As I reflect on #WorldAIDSDay, I think one of the most important messages that I want youth to take away from the celebration is knowing their truth and standing firm in it. It’s wild because it almost feels like I came out twice. The first time gave me life. The second coming out was my old body dying from what was my perception of what it means to be HIV-negative. While not said explicitly, society teaches you in many ways that being HIV-negative grants you many privileges, that being HIV-negative means that you have made the right choices thus far. “It couldn’t be me” is the mentality that I speak of.

According to Merck and the Prevention Access Campaign, approximately 23% of the survey participants stated that they either were “not at all informed” or “somewhat informed” about HIV.

Speaking only from my worldview and my experience—If you live in the South, from a reproductive health perspective, you more than likely had a mediocre class that spread stigmatizing language about HIV, which made you afraid. I know that was my experience.

I remember the bolder term in my Health book in seventh grade, and I remember how “dirty” I felt thinking about the word and how it must’ve been painful to live with.

Something that kills you slowly surely sounds like a curse.

But it was bittersweet for me.

My positive diagnosis unlocked a different part of myself that I was too afraid to tap into. I found my voice, my conviction to live and a purpose to thrive.

My family was my support, my mentors, everything that I could possibly ask for in reconstructing myself to live with a newly added identity, a new HEALTH CONDITION.

And when I say family, I’m not just talking about blood relatives. I’m talking about my brothers and sisters who also know that it can literally be….a hard pill to swallow.
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Toraje, Georgia

According to a recent study by the Prevention Access Campaign and the pharmaceutical company Merck, 28 perfect of HIV negative people avoid hugging people living with HIV. The study uncovered widespread stigma from young people. We know that this is a direct result of the lack of sex ed that is inclusive and medically accurate.
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This is why ECHO exists. While there are young people reinforcing stigma, primarily due to misinformation, there are young people working to educate and support their communities in eliminating HIV stigma.
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ECHO is young, powerful and taking over! Join us in taking action today: https://actionnetwork.org/le…/update-hiv-policy-in-our-state

I’ve been #undetectable for 3 years Now.
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I remember being first diagnosed and being so ashamed of myself as someone who has participated in so many programs designated towards HIV/STD prevention and awareness. I felt as someone who was already involved with spreading the message that I would be looked at as irresponsible or contradictory. I was ashamed, I didn’t tell anyone for a while. I was numb, I thought to myself “if I take my medicine and get to undetectable I’ll be fine. No one has to know.(besides anyone I was having sex with)” It wasn’t until my mom found my pill bottle that I was forced to tell her my situation.
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When I told my mom and stepdad, I felt I was letting my mom down. I felt that because of all the conversations we’ve had about HIV and my knowledge about how NOT to get it. After that, things in the house became intense.  
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I began to think that HIV could be spread through the most ignorant ways like: I was worried I could spread HIV by going to the Barbershop. I began to question everything I learned. Even knowing the accurate statistics! I began to worry about being that 1%! I BEGAN TO STIGMATIZE MYSELF!
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I chose to work in this field because I now understand the value of educating people on accurate information. I literally went from not caring at all. To standing up for the millions of gay black teenagers and young men that are at risk of transmission. I’ve worked with some incredibly intelligent, humble, passionate people. I’ve gotten to travel and work with people on a national level to bring awareness to stigma and policies that discriminate and criminalize HIV.
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I’m also standing up for all those who we lost to AIDS (which is not HIV). They went through a literal hell of medical confusion. And we now have access to tools to end HIV transmission for good! I’m happy to do what I do. And that’s because of WHO I AM.

Adonis, Milwaukee

“The 1st time I “came out” to my family & friends, I didn’t want to have the conversation in person. So, I posted my preferred name & my pronouns on Facebook.  Fortunately, some showed their support by positively reacting to the post. 

However, the post did not signal the end of my journey.  I often use different pronouns, &  I’m still not sure how I identify. Coming out is still a process for me. With support, I’ve learned that that’s okay.” - Tyunique, Philadelphia 

I always knew that my sexuality would bring me to a point in college where I felt I had to make a choice. It seems like I’ve heard the saying “stand in your truth,” one too many times this past year. I don’t believe I should have to choose, because what that communicates to me is subject to what everyone ELSE thinks is best for me. I’ve done that so many times it’s often automatic when I make choices in my day-to-day life. I say to myself “I wonder how this person is going to look at me because of this.” I know outside opinions shouldn’t matter, at the end of the day, but I still fail to take it into acknowledge that in real time.

Last summer I was challenged to stand in my truth and disclose who I am. In front of 5,000 students plus family and staff I outed myself, “I, Reggie G. Patterson, am Bisexual and proud.” I wasn’t really proud that I did it, in fact I’m not sure I am to this very day. However, I knew that this wasn’t just for me…it was for the thousands of Freshmen students who needed to experience my story and feel connected. My school has taught me that it’s not always about me, and that we all need someone to lean on. Blessed is an understatement for how I feel to be apart of this institution. There has been much work in supporting the LGBTQ community and a number of recent changes to create a safe space for everyone, especially LGBTQ students. With, a larger pride center, gender inclusive bathrooms, and school pride, there appears to be a system of support for our community.

Though that’s great, I couldn’t help but notice there are not many queer people of color who have a sense of community on campus. This worries me because I still feel marginalized so I expect they do too. The cultural groups on campus are under different guidelines as far as what’s to be supported and who should not. My time on this campus is coming to an end as of May 2016, but the least I can do is make sure that something changes. I didn’t know how important it was for someone like me to have support system for the life I live, and I’m quite sure the other QPOC student’s don’t all know it either.

“Growing up I never really had a lot of questions about my sexuality. It was never really a huge topic of discussion and I was never really comfortable having those kinds of conversations with my parents. I still liked women but I never tried to be with a man before. I’d had some sexual experiences with a friend before but it was nothing I’d ever really tried to understand or took seriously—oddly it just seemed a little normal.

It wasn’t until I met someone my freshman year of college that I stopped questioning myself and knew that I was bisexual. He was wonderful, and he made me happy. He told me at the time that he was bisexual. It wasn’t until after that conversation that I became comfortable with identifying as bisexual. My friends were very supportive for the most part, but they treated me like just another one of the gays. Though it felt nice to have friends who understood me to a degree, I felt invisible; I felt like my same-sex attraction made me be perceived as someone I wasn’t.

My family, more specifically my mom, wasn’t helpful to any degree. She’d always said things like “I’d still love you if you were gay.” At some point she even barked at me, “YOU GAY??” I answered her honestly, “No.” The guy I met would come over sometimes and we’d spend time together away from school. One day she asked me if he was gay. I told her, “No, he’s bisexual.” She looked at me—I was trying to focus my gaze elsewhere—“Are you bisexual?” I told her, “Yes.” Her immediate response was: Why would you do this to me? From that moment forward I knew this wasn’t going to be easy. She treated it like a taboo, like a sickness, or bad memory that you never wish to speak of. Any of my partners were my friends if they were male.

As the time went on I’d have to convince my straight friends that I was bisexual. My best friend since 6th grade even doubted my claim to my sexuality. My mother continued to say things like that’s nasty and you need to choose, pick one or the other. For a while I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know any other bisexual people, only gay people. I felt very alone in a crowd of people that were supposed to be supportive.

Looking back on it all, as I tell ‪#‎MyStoryOUTLoud, being bisexual was never a problem that I had to deal with. Everyone else made it a problem for themselves. I tell my story in hopes that others can do what I never had the courage to do for myself back then: stand up for who you are. Do not let others beat you down because they simply can’t understand. Live in your truth and with the love you have because it will take you farther than you realize.  Most importantly make sure that you turn that love inward before you try and turn it outward.‬‬‬”

Gerrard D., Graduate Student- American University