HIV & The Gay Community | Living y Ready

What’s the more difficult thing to say—that you’re gay or you’re HIV-positive?

“Being gay, there’s still that sense of ‘You were born this way’ so you have no control. Being HIV-positive, there’s some stigma, some attributes given to you that you made decisions that got you here,” Jose Ramos says.

In the next episode of this year’s volume of Living y Ready, we hear testimonies from gay HIV-positive men of color, like Jose, who offer real life insights about living with these two layered identities—and how they inform and overlap each other.

No matter what your community looks like, being gay comes with explanations, justifications, and ramifications. You come out to your family. You date on the sidelines. When you introduce your boyfriend at a dinner with new faces, you’re almost immediately put into some kind of rainbow-coated box. Even if you don’t want to, at some point you will be asked to speak for the community. Maybe you set the example.

Simply said, being gay makes you different. That’s why, over the years, gay people have paved spaces for gathering—clubs, parks, companies—places where there’s no need to explain, no reason to justify, and no ramifications for being yourself.

In these spaces, the gay community exists.

Like any community, there are layers. It’s almost like being in the cafeteria in high school. Gay jocks sit at one table. Professional lesbians at another.

But when you’re diagnosed with HIV, you often get subjugated to another table altogether, one that you didn’t know existed prior, with an entirely new set of explanations and justifications and ramifications—even in this LGBTQ+ cafeteria.

If you were comfortable at the table of gays before, you now have a new identity that makes you different—again. And that prejudice you once experienced for being gay in a heteronormative world you now experience for being HIV-positive in the gay community. You keep track of medication. You disclose status. You face rejection, misunderstanding, and fear from the people who once understood you best.

For Jose Ramos, being HIV-positive makes dating in the gay community more difficult.

“In our own community, we discriminate,” Jose says. “I don’t care what anyone says. There’s been studies where if you’re on Grindr and you say you’re HIV-positive and undetectable, 70-80% of [people will block you].”

For Dorian Klemensine, being HIV-positive means living on the fringes of the gay community, not always easy but certainly has perks.

“The gay community is accepting, and we like all types of people, [but] it feels at times like I’m on the outskirts of the gay community. Everyone’s super like: ‘We support you, but we’ll [do] it from a distance,’ ” Dorian says. “But that’s okay, because everyone who is in my niche, in my tribe, wants me there for a [reason]. It makes my little corner of the gay community much more full of love and acceptance.”

When it comes to reflecting on being gay and being HIV-positive, Dale Roberson has had a different experience than Jose and Dorian.

“Being gay is something people can see more outwardly,” Dale says, “and possibly judge me and vilify me or persecute me for. Living with HIV is very hidden, right? It’s very personal. You can’t look at someone now and say, ‘oh, you have HIV,’ but you can often look at somebody and make the assumption that they’re gay.”

Is being gay and being HIV-positive equally difficult, but for different reasons? Jose and Dorian say one thing. Dale says another.

Watch the full episode for more context.