When I was a child, 5 or 6 years old, we lived on the banks of the Tennessee River. I couldn’t swim so I had to wear a life jacket anytime I wanted to go by the water.
Seven years ago today I met the man that would become both the best and worst memories, and love, I have known to date.
“I still have a dream,” said Martin Luther King, “it is deeply rooted in the American Dream.”
I have been positive for two years now and public for one. See, I exposed my status on Facebook live and I went viral, literally.
By now I’m sure we’ve all seen the news about the Supreme Court ruling allowing the transgender military ban to take effect, a policy imposed on America by the trump administration via tweet in July 2017.
Disclosing my HIV status is usually one of the first things I do when I meet people. I mean, it's not like, "Hey, my name is Ci Ci and I have HIV!" Nah. It's more like, if I begin to see that person...
I have been living with HIV for more than 12 years. Still to this day it baffles me when people try to use this as a reason to insult me. I must admit often times, more than not, I forget about it.
I had a situation that happened a few years ago that I don't think I've quite healed from.
Distance brought upon by ignorance and privilege. I read, I research and yet I find myself surrounded by those I trust. I still cannot get past how much worry and fear entangle in the everyday life of those closest to me.
The lights have come out all over town, in the department stores, on the city lampposts, and in homes and yards across the country. How I used to love those lights, along with everything else that made the holidays festive: annoying dinners with family, shopping in crowded stores, and watching memorized Christmas specials… but it was still special.