Provi, 24

Thriving with HIV: My journey from Silence to Strength

I was born HIV positive. That single fact, written into my body before I even took my first breath, would shape so much of my early life in ways I couldn't understand at the time. But if you're reading this, maybe you know how that feels. Maybe you've walked into a hospital room and walked out with a new label you never asked for. Maybe you've had people whisper when they think you can't hear. Or maybe you’ve kept your truth locked so tightly inside that you can’t even whisper it to yourself.

This story is mine—but it is also yours, and ours. It’s the story of shame transformed into strength, of loneliness woven into belonging. It’s the story of learning to live—not in spite of HIV—but with it, beside it, through it.


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The Weight of Silence

Growing up, I didn’t know exactly what HIV was. I only knew that I had something other kids didn’t talk about. Something whispered between doctors and parents. Something wrapped in pills I had to take every day, hidden away in lunchboxes or jacket pockets. I remember being told not to tell anyone. That they wouldn’t understand. That I could lose friends, chances, even safety.

So I didn't tell. I smiled and played and laughed, but always with a small knot in my chest. The fear of being "found out" was like a shadow that followed me through every classroom, every playground. And with every year that passed, that silence grew heavier. It wrapped around my self-worth like a chain.

But silence never heals. Silence never hugs you back. It only isolates. And I knew I couldn't carry it forever.


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My First Breakthrough

It wasn’t until my teenage years that I started to truly question the silence. I started researching on my own, reading real stories—not the ones from outdated textbooks or media filled with stigma, but human stories. People like me. People living with HIV, not dying from it. People dating, l