We are women with HIV, but we are more than a disease.
These are our faces.
These are our stories.

Because of the challenges and discrimination that we face, it is difficult to find a safe and constructive way for women to show themselves in a way that keeps them safe. A sisterhood grows out of time, trust and nurturing. This site will take the same time, trust and nurturing to build.

We appreciate the bravery of those who share a piece of themselves to help expand our sisterhood.

Kelly’s Story

I tested positive in April of 2000.  I was 23 years old.  One month before that my boyfriend at the time had gotten really sick and ended up going to the hospital.  It was there that he found out that he had AIDS.  I’ll never forget the night that he came to my house and broke the news to me.  We were sitting out on my front porch when he told me that he had something he had to tell me.  He broke out in tears and told me that he just found out that he has AIDS.  My initial feeling was shock.  I was so naive.  In my mind AIDS didn’t happen to people like me. 

For the first month or so I made it more his issue than mine.  I didn’t even get tested until a month after he told me.  He was so stressed and sick that I put all my energy into supporting him and caring for him.  Finally, I did get tested.  A man came to my boyfriend’s apartment and tested me there.  Two weeks later he came back with my results.  It was then that I was told that I too was infected with HIV. 
I remember the man being nervous to leave me alone.  I didn’t cry or anything though.  It was so surreal.  I left my boyfriend’s and walked home.  As soon as I got there I went into my roommate’s bedroom and told her the news.  We sat on her bed, cried and hugged each other.  That was one of the rare times that I actually did cry about my HIV.

I wasn’t going to let it get the best of me though.  I’ve dealt with a lot of hard things in my life.  I knew I could deal with this too.  I believe that the hardships that I have gone through have given me depth and character and these are two characteristics that I am very proud to have.  So, what I decided to do was to use my HIV to help educate others.

I told people in my life almost right away.  I wanted people to know in hopes that my situation would be a reality check for them.  HIV does happen to people like me.  This meant that it could happen to them too.  Anyone that I have ever told has always been so supportive.  I’ve been very fortunate.  In the past four years or so I have also done tons of public speaking engagements to help educate and bring awareness to the general public. 

About a year after my diagnosis I became pregnant.  I got as educated as possible on HIV and pregnancy and decided to carry out my pregnancy and have my baby.  After the first trimester I was put on antiretrovirals to lower the chances of transmitting the virus to my baby.  My son, thankfully, was born HIV negative.  He is now six years old, beautiful and the greatest joy in my life. 

I currently take one pill a day to help keep my HIV under control.  The disease did progress very quickly in me though.  I seem to have a pretty good hold on it now, but in 2002 I did get an AIDS diagnosis.  During my pregnancy my t-cells dropped a lot.  By the time my son was a year old my t-cells were at 129.  I’ve never been ill due to the virus itself though.  I did get very sick from some medication I was on to help prevent me from getting pneumonia.  I was put on two different medications and both of them gave me violent allergic reactions.  And, yes, that was a very difficult time for me.  But, I got through it.  My t-cells are now at 794, my viral load is undetectable and I feel great.  I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon.  I have a positive outlook on life and a good attitude.  Two things that I believe will carry me into old age.  Plus, I have too much to do still.  And, most importantly, I have an amazing son that I need to be here for.

Nicole’s Story

It’s October 2000, and I am 25 years old. I got a phone call from my ex-boyfriend Dave asking me to get to the hospital right away! I was 45 minutes away, so I asked him, “why?” He said the doctor needed to talk to me. I thought to myself, “what for?” and asked him again, “What’s going on?” He just said, “GET HERE!!” I got in my car and on my way. The hospital was 45 minutes away, and all I could do was think, and that was the worst part. I was too shocked and scared to cry. I knew he was sick – he had been in the hospital for two weeks – but I couldn’t figure out why the doctor wanted to talk to me. I had been broken up with Dave for a whole year! The only thing I kept thinking was that he had AIDS. What else could it be? My brain was scrambling, my heart was racing; I just kept thinking what could it be? Is it my worst fear? Could he have AIDS?

I made it to the hospital. My legs were shaking, my whole body was shaking. I got into the elevator and pushed 7.  He was on the 7th floor. I thought for sure I was going to pass out or throw up the entire time. As I walked into his room, he was pale, sick and hooked up to all kinds of machines. I sat down next to him and said, “OK, I am ready, what’s wrong?” He looked into my eyes and said, “Nicole, I have AIDS.” I looked at him with confusion. I had heard of HIV/AIDS, but what does that mean? He said that he will still live a normal life with the help of medications and taking good care of himself! It took a couple of minutes for it to sink in, and then I realized, “oh my goodness, that means I could have HIV or AIDS, as well, because I had been in a relationship with him for 5 years!” I can’t explain the shock I felt, and as I left the hospital the world looked so different to me.

I knew that now I needed to be tested and, man, was I terrified. I got tested about a week later, still visiting Dave everyday in the hospital. It took 2 weeks to get my results back and, let me tell you, I about drove myself batty wondering what the results would be. When I went to the testing site to find out my diagnosis I really didn’t want to go. My best friend Colleen had taken me to get tested and was driving me to get my results. On the way, I told her that I had come to a conclusion. I felt in my heart that things happen for a reason, and if I am HIV positive, then there was a reason for it. We got to the clinic and walked in. I had a paper that had a number on it. As the man was walking me to the room for privacy, I told him I was feeling like I was going to get sick, and he asked me if I knew what was going on. I replied, “What do you mean, do I know what is going on?” He then said, “Why don’t you come in so we can talk?” I became angry. I told him I didn’t want to talk.  Here was my paper, “just tell me my results,” I said. He wouldn’t let me bring Colleen in the room, so I went in and shut the door and handed him the paper and said, “I don’t want to talk, just TELL ME!” He said, “You are HIV positive.” I opened the door, and Colleen was standing there, and I nodded my head yes to her and leaned up against the door and slid down to the floor! She just hugged me and kept saying, “We will get through this, you are going to be ok.” I didn’t cry. I was so shocked. We left the clinic, with Colleen holding me up because my body was weak.

For the first two weeks all I wanted to do was sleep. After that buried myself in finishing college and after I graduated I kept myself busy working 2-3 jobs at a time and slept when I wasn’t working. Two years later I decided to pull my life back together I enrolled  I enrolled in an outpatient treatment program to help me quit using meth which I had been using for 6 years.  One year later I moved to the Seattle area to live with my mom and step dad and found BABES. With the support of my entire family and BABES I knew I was going to be ok!

My 7 year anniversary of my diagnosis just passed. I have come along way since then. I have been on HIV meds for over 3 years and am undetectable. I have 5 years clean from using meth, I am a peer counselor to other HIV positive women, and I am very involved with public speaking and educating others on this disease. I have traveled to Washington, DC, to speak to my senators about my story and advocate for others who may not be ready to share their stories.  I can’t say I am happy that I have HIV, but I am happy that I am able to make a difference in people’s lives by sharing my experiences. I am happy in my own skin, and I look forward to a long and successful life living with HIV!

Angela’s Story

Well, my ex-boyfriend got sick, and he spent three months in the hospital. That’s when the doctor told me I needed to go get tested for HIV. So I did that.

I went back in two weeks, and I found out that I was HIV positive. I stayed in the doctor’s office crying for two hours. “Oh no,” I moaned, “it can’t be.”

I told my ex, and he didn’t believe me, so I took him with me to the doctor, and the doctor told him that I was HIV positive.

Then I told his family, and at that time they didn’t want me around. I couldn’t really use anything except one plate, one cup, one spoon and one fork that had my name on them. That made me feel really bad, so I left and went back to Florida.

My ex is now doing time for infecting me. He is spending a life sentence in prison. That’s my Story, and I’m still here.

Deb V. "Where Did I Go?"

I was diagnosed in 1986 while serving in the US navy, being stationed at Key Point, WA. My boyfriend of 5 months from Hawaii called me at midnight at my parent's house. His message was that he was screened for HIV-III and found to be positive. I thought he had messed around with some kind of drug, but I was immediately corrected and told "this is the AIDS virus". "Oh, it's a mistake," I said, "the navy makes mistakes all the time. You'll see."

Well my obvious denial was really evident due to it taking my mom bringing up the idea that I should test. My first reaction was we should wait due to maybe they would find it was all a mistake. After a day or so of self-analysis, I decided to speak to the chaplain who did arrange a test. A month later my positive test arrived. They medivaced us out of our duty station to Oakland Navel hospital in three days. There we decided to get married.

We were married for 10 years. It was during these years that we found that we dealt with this disease in very different ways. He became very isolated and aware that this was named a "gay man's disease". Alcohol played a big part of his coping tools. He also became concerned with whomever I spoke to make sure I never said anything. Those were very difficult years for me. I finally sought out a support group and in 1986 there were few women so my first support group was all men. Finally, about my third time going I met another woman. We exchanged phone numbers and never returned to the group. I believe this woman and I were the first women's group in Long Beach, California. After she died, I missed her so much and I started to experience so much grief. It caused so much pain that I couldn't keep quiet anymore and this started my focus towards helping and talking with all women with HIV.

I moved to Seattle and found this group of women that met in a home of one of the women, Kass. When I entered the room I was so touched by the laughter and light of all the women, I cried right on the spot. In the meantime my marriage was falling apart. He began to get really sick really quickly. Part of his process was to take care of himself, so he said he didn't love me and that he couldn't do it anymore.

These were all daggers in my heart. I moved out and thought I'd die without him. I loved him so much that I felt as if I had lost a part of myself in that 10 years. If it hadn't been form BABES, I really don't know where I'd be. Since then I've experienced dating with HIV negative men and now have a boyfriend of one year. We do have our fights but it's because I know who I am and what I want to do and say. It takes a strong man to hang with this.

I started working for BABES in October 1995. It has given me stability and comfort through those dark times. My health is still good, but I admit I never get used to our multiple loss, but at least I'm not alone. I have all of you. 8/6/1998

Laura, "Life beyond HIV/AIDS"

I have just come dashing in from school. I am in between my art history class and my algebra class; and I just realized I agreed to say a little something in this month’s newsletter about life beyond HIV, and it is due today!

I have a ton of homework to do, I have a fabulous meal planned for dinner tonight, (yummy salmon), laundry in the washing machine, some tomatoes I need to harvest from my garden, a couple of phone calls to make, a card to send off to ‘Babelicious Barb”, two happy puppies running around my feet clamoring for my attention, (a hunky guy that just came home from work for some reason that  I really need to kiss), and of course this little ditty to write,  I would say that this day so far for me is a prime example of a life beyond my ever present HIV.

Though I am acutely aware of the continuous presence of my status, fatigue being one constant reminder, and the medications I must take buy the clock, my life is filled with things that have nothing to do with HIV itself.

After my diagnosis in 1995, and some time to settle into the shock of it all, I began to immerse myself into the world of AIDS. I needed to connect to it and the people that were a part of that world as an element of my healing at the time; speaking, teaching, advocating, activism, serving on boards, joining support groups, doing art projects, writing music, and anything and everything to literally submerge my being into my healing process. But now, twelve years later, I am in a different place entirely, I am filling my life with everything that is not about AIDS and HIV as a way to heal yet another part of myself.

Someday I suspect I will find a balance between these two places, and combine them to create yet another chapter of my life. For now I am grateful that I have so much going on that is simply not just about HIV, I am a fully realized, human sponge of life, soaking up the juiciest things that I can find to make myself fuller and deeper as a person. The next dose of medications, next bout of fatigue, or my next doctor appointment will quickly slam me back to the world of AIDS and HIV, but for now I have a class I need to get to, my hunk of burning love I need to kiss, and some puppies to scratch and love on my way out of the door.
Love You Babes…. rock on, Laura

Deb H. "Hear Me Now"

When I initially came to BABES, I had been HIV positive for about five years. Prior to that, my husband and I had been pretty much isolated..

My husband Gary developed full-blown AIDS when our oldest son was two-years old and our youngest son was nine-months old. As my husband became sicker and sicker, I felt so alone. The doctor was having a difficult time diagnosing Gary's problem. Finally, he discovered that Gary had CMV in his esophagus. At the time of the diagnosis, Gary had lost so much weight that he could barely walk. Although the doctor suggested that Gary enter the hospital, he refused. So, we arranged to have all his medical necessities administered at home. Before I knew it, our house had become a mini-hospital with IV poles, pumps, needles, medical supplies, and everything else usually associated with a hospital.

Before I continue, I just want to say one thing. Gary and I lived in a trailer park, and no one knew our medical status, nor did I want anyone to know. Because I feared all the questions from our neighbors, I kept to myself. Just like they say, this illness is very isolating. During that time, I spoke to no one except to the nurses who came, the drivers who brought the medical supplies, and Gary, who was so miserable he really wasn't much for talking.

Because our children were so young, they didn't understand what was happening to Daddy; Why is Daddy so sick? Why does he have tubes in his chest? Why can't Daddy hold us any more? All these concerns were hard for my boys to comprehend; I felt myself dying inside, yet I had to be strong for them as I watched Gary slowly die.

At that point, none of our efforts seemed to help. Seeing my husband go from being an independent, strong, vibrant person to becoming a shell of a human being who could no longer even pick up his children for a hug was a painful transition. However, he had something inside of him that kept him fighting for his life. Looking at his small children, he would struggle with every last breath to stay alive for his sons. He wanted to see them grow up, take their first steps, ride their bikes for the first time, laugh and play, and to hear them say I love you, Daddy.

On Gary's next check-up, his doctor told us that he didn't know what else he could do for him, and that we should prepare ourselves for his death. Although he added that if Gary could manage to stay alive, several new medications were coming out on the market that possibly could prolong his life. The doctor also suggested that he move to Bailey Boushay House, but Gary wouldn't hear of it. So, we continued living day to day without thinking about the tomorrows. Sometimes, especially at night, I would quietly walk over, bend down, and listen to make sure he was still breathing. I was so terrified that I would find him dead. There was no one with whom I could share this without fear of rejection, so I kept silent.

I cannot even begin to tell you all of the infections and opportunistic infections that Gary has had, but this has been one hell of a ride. However, I will tell you that I wish I had known of BABES because in the beginning, I could have used all the support that I could possibly get; I was so alone. Traveling down the road is a lot easier when we have people around us who listen when we feel that we just can't go on, or when we think that we can't take any more of this disease, especially when we are afraid to tell our neighbors, brothers, sisters, mothers, or fathers. I feel so angry that this is the type of disease that if I have gotten it, I must have done something terrible to get it, or I am a terrible person for having gotten it. I want to stand up to those people and show them that I hurt just like they do and to ask them please not to shun me or my children for something over which we have no control. So, hear me now; I am a human being. I feel, I love, I hurt just like they do.

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