It is with both a heavy heart and deep gratitude that I write this tribute to my brother, Bryan C. Jones — a king among men.
Bryan spent the better part of his life advocating for people living with HIV, especially focusing on the Black community as a whole with a special place in his heart for same-gender-loving Black men. But he didn't stop there. He fought for all of us. For every person whose voice was being overlooked, Bryan showed up, spoke up, and stood in the gap. He was power, purpose, and love in motion.
Two of his sisters — Janet Kitchen from Florida and Davina Otalor from Texas — have come together to organize a memorial to celebrate his life and legacy. The celebration is at 7 PM on April 11th, at Best Friends Restaurant and Bar in Atlanta, in College Park, so time is of the essence.
If you're able to help and would like to attend the legacy celebration, please register here on Eventbrite or please contact either:
📞 Janet Kitchen – 813-857-2974
📞 Davina Otalor – 702-845-4315
Please only reach out to Janet or Davina with any questions regarding Bryan's legacy celebration. Thank you!
And maybe you're wondering — why should I donate if I didn't know Bryan? Let me tell you why. First, let me tell you about the women who organized this legacy celebration and then I will tell you about how Bryan impacted me and my journey with HIV.
Janet Kitchen, founder of Positively U in Florida, doesn't just talk the talk — she walks it. She employs people at a living wage, offers a space for PLHIV to receive access to life-saving treatment and care, a place to wash clothes, get something to eat, receive training, and walk a path toward empowerment. The moment I walked into Positively U, I was treated like family. That kind of love and leadership is rare.
And then there's Davina (Dee) Otalor. Davina doesn't need an introduction. If she loves you, she loves you with her whole heart. She's the one you can call day or night, and somehow — no matter how many things she's juggling — she answers. Davina, you've taken me into your home, loved me when I felt unlovable, and reminded me that I still matter. The work you do could truly end the epidemic — if only the world would stop and listen. Please, never stop.
As for me, I'm a white woman also living with HIV. I met Bryan in 2016 at HINAC or HIV Is Not A Crime training in Indianapolis. We were Facebook friends before that, but after we met and truly talked — shared our stories, our pain, our hopes — something shifted in me and my understanding of how this disease created a community of people who are connected, who care about each other regardless of class and station in life. Unlike so many, Bryan always made space for me. He included me in conversations when others didn't. He responded to my emails when others wouldn't.
He never saw my frustration or "too muchness" as anger — he saw the pain beneath it. He once told me that growing up around anger helped him learn how to meet it with grace. He helped me recognize my own fear-aggression for what it is. He reminded me to speak from a place of teaching, not pain. When I joked that this was a great step two to my daily prayer — "Jesus, help me not be a jerk when I open my mouth today" — he laughed.
I miss the way he would lovingly call me out. The way he would remind me to lead with kindness and let anger take a back seat until it's truly needed, something I have not been remembering lately.
If you knew Bryan, you already know what a light we've lost. And if you didn't — trust me — supporting his memorial is a way to honor someone who truly left this world better than he found it.
Please consider attending, if you're able.
With love and gratitude,
Cricket
🕊️ Flyer attached below 🕊️
Thank you!
Thank you so much!