It was Friday, May 2, 1986, and the day started out like any other day, but it wasn't. Today would change our lives forever.

This is not just a story about illness— it's about intuition. The terrifying silence of being dismissed. And the sacred roar of deciding to save yourself.

I advocate for cure research with an open mind and open heart... Personally, I am free from the burden of needing a cure. It's a "nice-to-have", not a "need-to-have".

HIV cure work is something that is beginning to fascinate me. Having the opportunity to be in spaces where this is the topic of discussion, I have learned so much about the virus.

I choose to show up for love with open eyes, a full heart and a commitment to myself first.

Sharing my stories and giving courage to others like me who can relate to some of my struggles and victories is a way I can give back to a community that has literally saved my life.

"You have HIV. HIV3 to be exact." That's what they said—HIV3. I didn't even know what that meant... No one explained it. No one softened it.

Being stigmatized with the closest friends and relatives... the people you really loved and trusted. It was really hard on me... But now I stand up straight to tell the world that I'm strong... Stigma can't kill my future.

They told me that my medication would kill me, not the virus. And I know for a fact they were wrong... When I came to the United States in 2001, I started treatment. Four weeks later, I was undetectable.

I left—not because I wanted to, but because I had to. I left to live.