For twenty years, I have carried a truth within me: I am a Black woman living with HIV. That truth is not a burden, but a gift—though it took me many years to see it that way. When I was first diagnosed, the word disclosure felt frightening, almost dangerous. I remember the questions racing through my mind: Will people still see me the same? Will they walk away? Will I be rejected, pitied, or feared? Too often, society teaches us that silence equals protection—that if we keep quiet, we will avoid judgment. But I quickly learned that silence also builds walls between myself and the people I wanted to trust, love, and grow with.
Learning the Power of Choice
I don't disclose to everyone, and I don't disclose all the time. But when I do, I see it as a sacred act.
What I've discovered over these two decades is that disclosure is not about surrendering control—it's about reclaiming it. Disclosure is my decision, my voice, and my offering to the world. It is not a requirement, but when I choose to share, it becomes a declaration of self-worth.
Every time I speak my truth, I invite people into a deeper understanding of me—not just my diagnosis, but my resilience, my laughter, my wisdom, and my health. Disclosure takes HIV out of the shadows and places it where it belongs—in the full story of who I am. It transforms whispered stigma into open conversation. It replaces fear with knowledge, and shame with dignity.
The Ripple Effect of Sharing
I have seen the power of disclosure ripple outward. When I share my story, someone else finds the courage to ask a question they've been holding onto. A mother takes her medication more consistently. A young person decides to get tested. A friend becomes an advocate. My disclosure is not just about me—it becomes a bridge for others to cross into a place of healing, community, and strength.
I think often about the young woman I used to be—the one who was terrified of being "found out." I share because I want that younger version of myself, and every woman like her, to know that there is freedom on the other side of fear. I share because I want my daughters, sons, and grandbabies to inherit a world where HIV is not hidden in silence but spoken about with compassion, understanding, and truth.
There is power in disclosure. Each time I speak my truth, I strip stigma of its power and replace it with freedom, healing, and strength.
A Legacy of Freedom
To the next generation, especially young Black and Brown women who are often left out of the conversation, I say this: disclosure is not a punishment. It is not a scarlet letter. It is a pathway to freedom. It is the moment you choose yourself, your peace, and your power over stigma.
I don't disclose to everyone, and I don't disclose all the time. But when I do, I see it as a sacred act. It is a reminder to myself and a gift to those around me that I am still here—living, thriving, mothering, leading, and loving.
My Gift to You
If you are reading this, my disclosure is my gift to you. It is proof that HIV cannot diminish our brilliance, our beauty, or our purpose. It is evidence that we are capable of joy, success, and longevity. It is an invitation for you to see people living with HIV in the fullness of our humanity.
Every time I disclose, I choose to live openly, boldly, and unapologetically. And every time you listen, support, or stand with someone living with HIV, you accept that gift and help multiply its power.
So today, I give you my truth again: I am here, I am healthy, I am whole—and disclosure is my gift to you.
A Call to You
As you finish reading, I invite you to reflect: What does disclosure mean in your own life? How can you create safer spaces for those who may be deciding whether or not to share their truths? Whether you are living with HIV or standing in solidarity, your actions matter. Show compassion. Speak against stigma. Celebrate resilience.
Because when disclosure is met with love and understanding, it doesn't just change one life—it changes the world.
