I was at a party the other day and found myself chatting to a guy
I’d not met before. He was in his early thirties, seemed smart, funny and was
kind of cute looking. Honestly, I’m not using this column to try to pick people
up. I only mention that he was cute because you’d think that someone like that
would have no problem getting a date or meeting someone for sex – but this guy
did. In fact, he told me, he hadn’t had sex in 18 months, ever since he was
diagnosed HIV-positive.
Like most people who receive a positive diagnosis, it had hit him
pretty hard. Even today, when medication means that HIV shouldn’t have too much
impact on your life-expectancy, hearing that you have HIV, probably the most
stigmatised virus of the modern era, feels like you’ve been punched in the stomach…
repeatedly. I don’t like to generalise; I’m sure that there must be men who
have been diagnosed and who are genuinely blasé about it, I’ve just never met
one. And I’ve met and spoken to a lot of men who have been diagnosed positive.
This guy at the party had made the decision that he was going to be
open about his status with his sexual partners. He’d tried hooking up with
people through the usual dating apps, at parties and in bars and clubs; each
time he had been rejected. His confidence was now circling somewhere around the
ocean floor. I wanted to give him a hug, to tell him that things would get
better, but he wasn’t able to hear that right then.
This guy was trying to do the responsible thing by talking to his
potential sexual partners about HIV – and he was being punished for it. Other
people with diagnosed HIV choose not to tell casual partners and risk being
‘uncovered’ and vilified. Sometimes those same casual encounters become serious
relationships and the guy with HIV then has to choose the right moment to
disclose to his partner, not knowing what reaction he may get.
Although the number of gay men living with HIV in the UK has only
ever increased year on year, the number of gay men who believe that they know
someone living with HIV has gone down. The reluctance to disclose (and become
subject to the judgements and rejection that people who are open about their
HIV status will often encounter), coupled with the impact that treatment has
had in preventing the visible symptoms of HIV, means that HIV is becoming
increasingly invisible within our community.
It’s obvious that this is a problem for guys like this chap I was
speaking to, who had become miserable and desperate about his life. What is
more, this is a problem for all of our communities, if we, as gay men, through
our inaction, our disregard or our fear, drive people to such a place. Where is
the support? Where is the love?
But combatting stigma isn’t just about supporting our brothers who
are living with HIV, it’s also vital for HIV prevention efforts. When we become
unable to talk about HIV, we are unable to have those important health related
discussions that can prevent transmission. When HIV is seen as the worst thing
that can happen to a gay man, we are telling people with diagnosed HIV that
there is no longer any need for them to take care of themselves, physically or
emotionally. When the dread of acquiring HIV becomes too great, gay men are
less likely to test – and as a result will be late to access the treatment that
will both extend their lives and make them less infectious to their sexual
partners.
So much has changed since the era of the tombstones and the
icebergs. People with HIV live full, productive lives. We work hard, sometimes
we play hard, and we’re subject to all the same stresses and strains as
everyone else, plus a few more. We are not doomed, we are not ‘unclean’, we are
not predatory or dangerous, just because we are living with HIV.
Until we have a magic wand, a vaccine or a cure (and don’t hold
your breath waiting for any of these) we will continue to see the number of
people living with HIV in our communities increase. If we are going to be
successful in reducing the number of new infections, we need to do all those
things that stigma hampers: testing, talking, honesty and openness.
If you hear people talking about people living with HIV as if they
have lost their right to a fulfilling, happy love-life, challenge it. When you
hear people gossip about people who are living with HIV, challenge them. When
people talk about HIV as if it were a matter of personal hygiene, or a moral
judgement, remind them that HIV is just a virus.
Stigma doesn’t just hurt people living with HIV, it harms all of
us.
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