Today is World AIDS Day. On March 11th of this
year, my mother died of AIDS-related encephalopathy. My mother was an activist,
a southern belle trapped in the north, a grandmother, and a recovering addict.
In her life she survived multiple rapes and attacks on her humanity. She
overcame drug addiction and homelessness. She turned her “tragedy to triumph” (yes Kanye) when she became a national advocate for ending homelessness in the HIV/AIDS
community. She served on the first five years of the historic Massachusetts
Ryan White Planning Council. She lived with HIV for 16 years.
I write this because even at the time of her passing some of
my closest friends did not know what she was dying from. In my heart I knew I
was not ashamed of her status, so why was I being evasive?
