A leading HIV consultant who went from writing prescriptions to needing them in the summer of 2002 - and became the first person living with HIV to lead the British HIV Association.

Summary

Tristan Barber was born in Cornwall in 1975, took his A-levels at 16, and arrived in London in September 1992 as a gay man from a rural county where nobody was out. Medical school felt like a small homophobic village. London in the 90s did not. He went to clubs every night, nearly failed his studies from enjoying himself almost too much, and eventually landed his first job in sexual health and HIV at a busy East London clinic in 2002 - the year everything changed.

Towards the end of that rotation, Tristan got sick. A ten-day viral illness in the middle of summer. His GP prescribed antibiotics and didn't ask anything else. Tristan went for an HIV test himself, struggled to find a clinic where he didn't know anyone working, and bumped into an old colleague in the waiting room who asked why he was there. The test was positive. He enrolled in a seroconverter trial at Imperial College - four drugs for three months - and became rapidly undetectable. Then the trial required him to stop treatment, his viral load rebounded, and a small depression set in. That was his summer of 2002.

What followed was a career that took in research at Imperial, clinical trials recycling old drugs for people who had run out of options, an elective in San Francisco where HIV drugs were advertised on bus stops, and fieldwork in rural Nepal supporting doctors who were delivering HIV care with a manual and a telephone line. In 2018, he set up a dedicated HIV and ageing service at the Royal Free Hospital - the first of its kind - built around the idea that your birthday age and your HIV age are not the same thing.

He became the first person living with HIV to chair the British HIV Association, led the campaign to allow people with HIV to donate sperm and eggs, and helped change Civil Aviation Authority rules so commercial pilots with HIV could fly. He is clear-eyed about the mixed messaging in HIV medicine: one pill once a day does not mean it's sorted.

Key Moments

[01:26] The summer of 2002 - starting a first job in HIV medicine at a busy East London clinic, and the ten-day illness that made him suspect something was wrong[03:23] Finding somewhere to test - the difficulty of getting an anonymous HIV test when you work in the field, and bumping into a colleague in the waiting room[04:18] The seroconverter trial - quadruple therapy at Imperial College, rapid undetectability, treatment interruption, viral rebound, and the deflation that followed[05:41] Shame and sex - why we can't shame people for having sex or for acquiring STIs, and the fact that most sexual activity globally is condomless[08:07] Cornwall to London - A-levels at 16, arriving in 1992, and the 90s gay scene: Love Muscle, Popstarz, and smoking in every pub[12:12] From Brighton to San Francisco - Martin Fisher as a leading light, HIV drugs advertised at bus stops in 1998, and a city still in shock[14:42] Coming back to HIV - leaving the field for A&E, thinking it was too obvious a career choice for a gay man, then realising it was the perfect fit[15:20] Two waves of optimism - 1996 and triple therapy, then the mid-2000s when drugs became well-tolerated and effective against resistant virus[19:14] Being your own field of expertise - the privilege and the complication of clinical literacy after diagnosis, and the newspaper articles his father left on the kitchen table[30:35] HIV and the ageing brain - Tristan's MD research into cognitive impairment, and the finding that most people on contemporary treatment do not have a direct HIV-related cognitive problem[32:59] HIV and ageing - the Royal Free service, the interplay of birthday age and HIV age, nursing homes where staff have never knowingly met a gay older person, and the 2025 HIV Action Plan's promise to address stigma in care settings[38:11] Mixed messaging - one pill a day doesn't mean it's sorted, and why even HIV professionals can minimise the lived experience of a lifelong condition[41:06] Law catching up with science - changing rules on sperm donation, commercial pilots, and the armed forces, and why criminalising HIV transmission perpetuates stigma[44:15] Nepal - two months in far western clinics, supporting doctors delivering HIV care in rural isolation

Dedication

Tristan remembers a young heterosexual patient who never fitted the model of HIV care, who couldn't take oral antiretroviral therapy because of the weight of her own self-stigma, and who once surprised his ward round team by jumping out of a cupboard in fancy dress. She lost her life to HIV.

About Dr Tristan Barber

Dr Tristan Barber is a consultant in sexual health and HIV at the Royal Free Hospital, London, where he runs a dedicated HIV and ageing service. He is the first person living with HIV to chair the British HIV Association. His MD research focused on HIV-associated neurocognitive impairment. He led successful campaigns to allow people with HIV to donate sperm and eggs and to permit commercial pilots with HIV to fly.

Resources

British HIV Association (BHIVA)National AIDS TrustTerrence Higgins TrustThe 2025–2030 UK HIV Action Plan

If you have been affected by the themes in this episode, support is available at tht.org.uk.

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

A Black British-Caribbean woman diagnosed with HIV at 37 who told nobody for ten years - not her children, not her colleagues, not a single friend - and found her way back to her own body through yoga and Buddhism.

Summary

Louise Vallace grew up as one of the only Black children in a white Essex school, putting a tea towel on her head to pretend she had long flowing hair like the other girls. Her parents came from St Lucia during the Windrush era and were met with signs in windows: No Dogs, No Irish, No Blacks. Louise moved through school, the Caribbean, East London, and eventually into a senior career in local government - company cars, corporate cards, a visit from Tony Blair for a project she'd designed. On the surface, she'd made it.

In 2006, aged 37, divorced, with three children, she went for her first ever sexual health test. She'd been sterilised and didn't think she needed one. The nurse told her everything came back negative apart from one result. Louise went home, checked her will, and put a smile on her face when the children came back from school. The next day she rang her critical illness insurance. They didn't cover HIV.

For the next ten years, Louise told nobody. She was the only Black woman around the boardroom table at work, the only Black woman she could find in HIV community spaces, and now she was carrying a secret that intersected with every form of otherness she'd already spent a lifetime navigating. She took on what she calls masculine energy - became one of the boys - so she wouldn't have to tap into the femininity that nobody would hold. She dissociated from her body entirely. When someone later asked her where she felt sadness in her body, she didn't know.

The telling began with a journal. She wrote that she had something she needed to say to her children and couldn't find the words, and the tears fell onto the page. Her daughter flung her arms around her and said, why didn't you tell me? Her sons said, it's not that deep, Mum. She found yoga, Buddhism, and the teachings of Thich Nhat Hanh, and slowly learned to come home to her own body - dodgy knees, jittery hip, and all.

Key Moments

[02:05] Essex, the tea towel, and being the only Black children - growing up visibly different, and parents who'd crossed an ocean only to find signs that said No Blacks[05:01] St Lucia to London - her mother arriving in a cotton dress to a city full of smoke and buildings, and the four years the family spent back in the Caribbean[07:33] Career and corporate cards - the senior role, the Blondie records, the respect campaign that brought Tony Blair to Newham, and the colleague who resented her for it[08:28] The first sexual health test at 37 - never having been tested, not thinking she needed to, and the moment the nurse said everything was negative apart from one[11:05] Death sentence - all she knew was that gay men got HIV and it had nothing to do with her. She checked her will that evening[12:50] The insurance call - ringing a critical illness policy she'd paid into for years, and being told they don't cover HIV[14:17] Ten years of silence - three children, a career, school governorship, and a secret she feared would destroy all of it if it surfaced[15:19] Dissociation - the complete detachment from her body, the masculine armour, and the question nobody could answer: where do you feel it?[17:39] Dating with a secret - the impossible opening line, and borrowing Jonathan Blake's observation: nobody leads with "I've got this killer virus coursing through my veins"[18:26] The journal and the children - tears falling onto the page, a daughter's arms, and two sons who said it's not that deep[20:28] Hyde Park and turning the script - telling a man on a first date she was living with HIV, then asking if he'd ever been tested. They married five years later[26:27] The absence of Caribbean women - not seeing herself in HIV spaces, and why shame in small island communities keeps Black British-Caribbean women invisible[31:23] Yoga, Buddhism, and coming home - learning to feel her body again through Thich Nhat Hanh, mindfulness, and the slow adventure of gratitude for a dodgy knee

Dedication

Louise remembers Thich Nhat Hanh, the Buddhist monk whose podcasts she listened to on the way to work during her darkest days. She felt like he took her hand and helped her float to the surface.

About Louise Vallace

Louise Vallace is a Black British-Caribbean woman who was diagnosed with HIV in 2006 at the age of 37. She carried the diagnosis in silence for ten years. She is the host of the podcast Aunty Lou's House, a qualified yoga therapist, and an advocate for greater visibility of Caribbean women living with HIV in the UK.

Resources

Aunty Lou's House - Louise's podcastTerrence Higgins TrustPositively UKNational AIDS TrustThe 2025–2030 UK HIV Action Plan

If you have been affected by the themes in this episode, support is available at tht.org.uk.

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

A Nigerian-born Anglican priest who spent years praying the gay away, married a woman under church pressure, came out in 1994, was diagnosed with HIV in 2003, and founded the first inclusive church in Nigeria - now operating across 22 countries.

Summary

Jide Macaulay grew up in Nigeria, the son of a powerful conservative theologian. His father was not available emotionally and would later support a Nigerian bill that could imprison his own son for 14 years simply for being gay. He called Jide a disgrace. But before any of that, Jide tried to fix himself. He fasted for 40 days, pleading with God to remove his same-sex feelings. When a woman said yes to a relationship, he believed the prayer had worked. It hadn't. The feelings never disappeared. After four years of pressure from church leaders and family, they married. Three years in, Jide sat his wife down and told her the truth. The marriage became acrimonious. He came out as gay in 1994.

Eight years later, in January 2003, Jide tested positive for HIV. He got it through sex, and he says so directly. The first person he called to share the news cast him out and called him a slut. But before sunset that same day, he called someone else - a friend who drove straight to his house, packed him a bag, ran him a bath, and left the bedroom door open through the night to keep watch. For six years after his diagnosis, Jide travelled the journey with only his medical team and one other person. It took him 15 years to speak about it publicly.

In 2006, Jide founded the House of Rainbow in the heart of Lagos - Nigeria's first inclusive Christian ministry for LGBTQ people. It now operates across 22 countries, supporting people seeking asylum, survivors of trafficking, and people living with HIV. He also served as chaplain at the Mildmay Hospital in London, walking the wards of the institution Princess Diana made famous by holding the hands of people with AIDS.

Key Moments

[02:49] A happy, holy homosexual - how Jide introduces himself, along with Mama Jide, a name connected to his maternal spirit[02:56] The McCauley legacy - growing up as the son of a conservative Nigerian theologian who was emotionally unavailable and would later support anti-gay legislation[04:06] The Bible as weapon - how scripture is selectively applied, and why Jide grounds his theology in Psalm 139: "We are fearfully and wonderfully made"[08:39] Praying the gay away - 40 days of fasting, a girlfriend mistaken for a cure, and a marriage built on church pressure rather than truth[10:53] Coming out in 1994 - telling his wife, the collapse of the marriage, and the acrimony that followed[14:58] Diagnosed in January 2003 - an HIV diagnosis eight years after coming out, the question of whether it was God's punishment, and the decision that it was not[16:31] Six years of solitude - travelling the journey with almost no one, and why Jide insists nobody should be rushed into sharing their status[19:42] Two phone calls on the same day - the friend who called him a slut, and the one who drove over, ran a bath, and left the door open all night[22:36] The Bible and stigma - why scripture specifically commands compassion for the sick, and the Princess Diana moment at Mildmay as a biblical image[25:46] House of Rainbow - founded in Lagos in 2006, now in 22 countries, supporting LGBTQ Christians, asylum seekers, trafficking survivors, and people living with HIV[31:40] Speaking directly to someone falling apart - Jide's message that HIV is not a punishment for queerness, and that the sacredness of sharing who you are is never an abomination

Dedication

Jide remembers Reverend Upazila, the first priest in Africa to publicly declare her HIV status, whom he met at a conference in Stellenbosch in 2009. She died during the Covid pandemic in 2020.

About Reverend Jide Macaulay

Reverend Jide Macaulay is a Nigerian-born Anglican priest and the founder of the House of Rainbow, Nigeria's first inclusive LGBTQ Christian ministry, now operating in 22 countries. He served as chaplain at the Mildmay Hospital in London and has been living with HIV since 2003. He describes himself as a happy, holy homosexual.

Resources

House of RainbowMildmay HospitalTerrence Higgins TrustPositive EastNational AIDS Trust

If you have been affected by the themes in this episode, support is available at tht.org.uk.

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

CLICK HERE TO SUPPORT ISMAIL'S WORK

Ismail Harerimana was fourteen before anyone told him what was making him sick. He grew up in the hills of Kisoro in southwest Uganda, was diagnosed with HIV after a routine eye infection, and spent years hiding his antiretrovirals in a tin of sugar so nobody at school would know.

He was saved and rebuilt by Saturday support groups run through the Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation. What follows is a story of two school expulsions, a caning for missing class to collect medication, a newspaper confession that turned him into an advocate, a husband and a father.

The episode closes on harder ground: the aftermath of the 2025 USAID and PEPFAR cuts, and the subsequent death of a child in Ismail's care. His testimony is in direct contradiction to statements made by Elon Musk and Marco Rubio.

Key Moments

[00:01:03] Growing up in Kisoro, on Uganda's border with Rwanda and the DRC[00:04:39] Years of unexplained illness, isolation and undiagnosed HIV in childhood[00:08:34] Diagnosed at fourteen after an eye infection testing drive — and not told the truth[00:11:14] Learning the truth about his HIV status at sixteen, through the Ariel Clubs peer support network[00:17:02] Hiding antiretrovirals in a tin of sugar, and being caned for missing school to collect medication[00:20:14] Expelled from two schools after his status was disclosed without his consent[00:26:06] Marriage, fatherhood, and managing HIV transmission risk with an HIV-negative wife[00:31:03] The 2025 USAID funding cuts and their effect on Uganda's HIV clinics[00:37:32] A moment of remembrance for a child in his care who died after the cuts

Guest Bio

Ismail Harerimana is a Ugandan community health advocate and former Ariel Clubs ambassador for the Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation. Diagnosed with HIV at fourteen, he has spent over a decade supporting children and families affected by HIV across southwestern Uganda, working as a peer educator at Kabale Regional Referral Hospital until USAID and PEPFAR funding cuts halted the programme.

Resources & Further Reading

Terrence Higgins Trust – UK support and information for people living with HIVNational AIDS Trust – HIV policy, stigma and rights in the UKaidsmap – independent HIV news and treatment informationElizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation – the organisation behind the Ariel Clubs peer support network mentioned in this episodePrevention Access Campaign (U=U) – on Undetectable equals Untransmittable

If you have been affected by the themes in this episode, support is available at the links above.

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

A man who survived a hijacked plane at 11, spent years numbing himself with drugs and chemsex, was diagnosed with HIV on a comedown in January 2020, and found clarity four years later on a single dose of LSD taken to treat a pain condition.

Summary

Hamish Noah was ten days old when he left England for the Philippines. By six, he'd lived in five countries. By nine, he was in Malawi, sobbing in a supermarket in Blantyre because he couldn't understand why children outside had no food while his family filled a trolley. By 11, he was visiting an HIV project in one of Africa's largest informal settlements, surrounded by children living with the virus - with no idea how much that scene would come to define his adult life.

On 29 December 2000, aged 11, Hamish was on British Airways flight 2069 from London to Nairobi when a man with severe mental illness entered the cockpit and tried to crash the 747. The plane dived towards the ground and nearly flipped. The co-pilot pulled off what became known as a miracle manoeuvre. Four hundred people survived. Hamish was offered therapy. He didn't really understand what it was. What he did understand, somewhere below the surface, was that he had been about to die - and that changed the way he moved through the world.

By 13, he was smoking weed daily and shoplifting to fund it. By his late twenties, he was deep into chemsex, losing one or two nights of sleep a week, and running on a mantra left over from the hijacking: it's not that bad. On New Year's Eve 2019, he had a bender. On 6 January 2020, he went to a clinic. On the 8th, the phone call came. He was standing in his bedroom. Time stopped.

For four years, he told almost nobody. He experienced stigma from people close to him - rooted, he says, in cultural conditioning from the conservative African side of his family. He hadn't yet accepted himself as bisexual. He was withdrawing from drugs, starting HIV treatment on four pills a day, and going through it all in near-silence. Then, in early 2024, during a bout of cluster headaches - a condition so painful it's nicknamed the suicide headache - he took LSD for medicinal purposes. Alone in his living room, he had an epiphany of total clarity: of course he was going to share his story. He wrote 90% of his public disclosure post that day. He hasn't touched LSD since.

Today Hamish works as a recovery coach and HIV advocate. The DJ decks are on pause. The music, he says, will rejoin the party at some point.

Key Moments

[01:03] Born in Cambridge, raised everywhere - the Philippines, Singapore, England, Malawi, and a childhood shaped by constant movement and a father in aviation[03:22] British Airways flight 2069 - a hijacking at 35,000 feet on 29 December 2000, a 747 that nearly flipped, a miracle manoeuvre, and an 11-year-old whose mantra became "it's not that bad"[07:36] Vinyl at 13, weed at 13, daily by 14 - the beginning of numbing, and why Hamish sees no point in regret[10:36] When numbing stops being fun - recognising early that the drugs weren't for enjoyment, and the argument that sometimes numbing is better than the alternative[13:28] Sex as a holiday from your life - chemsex, connection, and the complication of genuinely bonding with someone while high[16:18] New Year's Eve 2019 - a bender, a clinic visit on the 6th of January, and the phone call on the 8th that stopped time[19:15] The Terrence Higgins Trust helpline - a lifeline in the early weeks, and the peer supporter Hamish is still in touch with today[20:14] Four years of near-silence - stigma from people close to him, a bisexuality he hadn't yet accepted, and the weight of cultural conditioning from a conservative background[24:15] Acute trauma and complex trauma - the difference between a single event and the slow accumulation of being silenced, and why the body stores what the mind tries to forget[26:05] Racism, a cricket bat, and intergenerational trauma - watching his Black African mother be racially abused, and the understanding that trauma is passed down through generations[34:48] Cluster headaches, LSD, and the epiphany - a pain condition so severe it's nicknamed the suicide headache, psychedelics taken for medicinal purposes, and the moment of total clarity in a living room that led to public disclosure[40:30] The pushback and the net benefit - stigma from extended family, judgey messages, and the decision that silence helps nobody[45:31] Malawi, gratitude, and the supermarket in Blantyre - a nine-year-old in tears, a visit to an HIV project in a Kenyan slum at 11, and the sense of duty that connects everything

Dedication

Hamish remembers Hydeia Broadbent, a young American woman born with HIV who appeared on The Oprah Winfrey Show as a child and spoke about the virus with extraordinary eloquence. She died recently. Hamish does not know anyone personally who has died of AIDS-related illness, and is grateful for the era in which he was diagnosed.

About Hamish Noah

Hamish Noah was born in Cambridge and grew up across Southeast Asia, Africa, and the UK. He was diagnosed with HIV in January 2020. He is a recovery coach, HIV advocate, and DJ. He is 37 years old.

Resources

Terrence Higgins Trust - including the helplineNational AIDS TrustChemsex supportPositively UKThe 2025–2030 UK HIV Action Plan

If you have been affected by the themes in this episode, support is available at tht.org.uk.

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

A Ugandan-born woman diagnosed with HIV in 1988 who went back to Africa to die, arrived in the UK with a CD4 count of one, and built a career spanning 20 countries in African health policy.

Summary

Winnie Sseruma left Uganda on a scholarship to study sociology in Kansas in 1981. The students there asked her if she lived in a tree. By 1988, she was 27, back in the United States, and applying for an internship that required an HIV test. It came back positive. She told her partner, who blamed her, ghosted her, then called back weeks later to say his own test was negative. After that, Winnie stopped telling anyone. She sat through conversations where friends described how they'd treat an HIV-positive person - never eat in their house, never share a bathroom, never be friends - and said nothing.

She was offered AZT, which she couldn't afford. The side effects turned her skin from shiny black to ashy. Between 1990 and 1993, her brother, her mother, and her father all died while she was trapped in the US. In 1994, she packed six months' worth of medication and flew to Uganda to die. When the pills ran out, she got TB, pneumonia, and diarrhoea. She nearly died, but a short trip to the UK saved her. At Newham General Hospital, her CD4 count was one.

A Ugandan woman she'd met only briefly invited her to a place to socialise. It was a support group for people living with HIV. Winnie could see herself in the women there. She went from preparing to die to learning how treatment works - and it was, in her word, invigorating. She co-founded the African HIV Policy Network, chaired it from Parliament, co-wrote Our Stories Told by Us, and now monitors health programmes across 20 African countries for the Stephen Lewis Foundation.

Key Moments

[02:05] Kansas, 1981 - a scholarship, a culture shock, and students who thought Ugandans lived in trees[07:05] The positive result - an internship test in 1988, a death sentence at 27, and a life flashing before her eyes[08:58] Telling a partner - blame, rejection, being ghosted, and the lesson that disclosure was not safe[11:49] Conversations she sat through - friends describing how they'd never eat in the house of someone with HIV, while Winnie stayed silent beside them[12:37] AZT and its costs - paying for medication with no insurance, vomiting the pills back up, and a treatment that changed her skin colour[17:02] Four deaths in four years - a brother in 1991, a mother in 1990, a father in 1993, all from Uganda while Winnie couldn't leave the US[17:52] Going back to Uganda to die - six months of medication, then TB, pneumonia, and a CD4 count of one at Newham General Hospital[21:33] The Ugandan woman and the support group - an invitation framed as socialising, a room full of women telling their stories, and the moment Winnie stopped being alone[26:07] The African HIV Policy Network and Fed Up - supporting African women with HIV to engage with policy, and fighting a UK Department of Health that treated an entire continent as one community[39:54] Our Stories Told by Us - a book co-written with four friends to change the narrative about African communities and the UK HIV response[42:41] Remembering her brother - a gentle giant who died of HIV-related TB in 1991 at 27, the same age Winnie was when she was diagnosed

Dedication

Winnie remembers her brother, who died of HIV-related TB in 1991 at the age of 27 - the same age she was at diagnosis. She wants him to know he was loved.

About Winnie Sseruma

Winnie Sseruma was born in Sheffield and raised in Uganda. She was diagnosed with HIV in 1988 in the United States. She co-founded the African HIV Policy Network, chaired it from Parliament, and co-wrote Our Stories Told by Us: Celebrating the African Contribution to the UK HIV Response. She works across 20 African countries monitoring health programmes for the Stephen Lewis Foundation.

Resources

Buy Our Stories Told By Us, the bookStephen Lewis FoundationNational AIDS TrustTerrence Higgins TrustPositively UKThe 2025–2030 UK HIV Action Plan

If you have been affected by the themes in this episode, support is available at tht.org.uk.

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Available now on Spotify and Apple Music.

Apple Music / Spotify

Profits from sales will go towards plugging the remaining £1k costs incurred in producing the #AIDS2026 specials, 'Rio Calling'.

'Rio Calling' crowd-funder: https://hiv-the-morning-after.captivate.fm/rethinkrebuildrise

LYRICS:

[Verse 1]

They came to Rio, sun and rain,

the world arrived to talk again,

with rights and science, hand in hand,

and here Brazil, she took a stand.

[Pre-Chorus]

The funding's running dry,

and pharma's flying high,

they warned us: cuts bring death

we answer with one breath:

[Chorus]

So rethink, rebuild and rise,

raise the science to the skies,

no access, that's no justice

so open up your eyes.

[Verse 2]

They spoke of jabs beyond the pill,

long-acting shots to fit the bill,

so bNAbs — is it hope or hype?

The cure's still climbing up the pipe.

[Pre-Chorus]

The funding's running dry,

and pharma's flying high,

they warned us: cuts bring death

we answer with one breath:

[Chorus]

So rethink, rebuild and rise,

raise the science to the skies,

no access, that's no justice

so open up your eyes.

[Toast / Bridge]

Now — U equals U, so hear me shout:

undetectable, don't stress out!

PrEP inna motion, long-acting too,

communities leading - that's nothing new!

Criminalised, but still we rise,

harm reduction, open your eyes!

From testing to treatment we hold the line

rethink, rebuild, one more time!

[Verse 3]

We're ageing now, we're living long,

they wrote a session, wrote this song,

"live long, live strong," the doctors said,

now mind your liver, heart and head.

[Chorus]

So rethink, rebuild and rise,

raise the science to the skies,

no access, that's no justice

so open up your eyes.

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Featuring: Dr Tristan Barber (BHIVA), Kene Esom (HIV policy & human rights), Dr Laura Waters (HIV/sexual health medicine), Simon Collins (HIV treatment advocacy), Eliane Becks Nininahazwe (HIV activism & arts), Pank Sethi (HIV advocacy & photography), Sita Shahi (HIV advocacy — women), Brenda Crabtree-Ramírez (HIV research & medicine), Maxx Boykin (HIV policy & organising), Olimbi Hoxhaj (HIV advocacy), Knowledge Mupembe (harm reduction & HIV), Antonio Flores (HIV/TB medicine — MSF), Davide Scalenghe (global health communications), Christabel Millar (HIV community advocacy), Damien Fagan (pharmaceuticals — Gilead), Michael (gay & bisexual network — Tanzania), Andrea Carolina (HIV & pharmacy access — Colombia), Derrick Mapp (HIV), Derrick Powell (HIV retention navigation), Joan Steven (HIV community facilitation), Sarah (HIV advocacy — women), Jonathan Blake, Eli Fitzgerald, Garry Brough, Peter Willis.

CROWDFUNDER LINK

The series closes on the cost that rarely finds its way into official reports. Dan Hall and dan glass end their week in Rio asking what's been lost as HIV's physical spaces have gone digital or disappeared, with Dr Tristan Barber of BHIVA closing the series with a clinical perspective on what peer support still can't be replaced by.

Archive testimony comes from Jonathan Blake, diagnosed in October 1982 among the first in Britain, on standing in the darkest corner of the room; Eli Fitzgerald, a trans man born with HIV who works in peer support for young people, on chosen family and being loved because of his status, not in spite of it; Garry Brough, diagnosed in 1991 and now a builder of peer support programmes across the sector, on twenty years of sitting opposite the newly diagnosed; and Peter Willis, a retired GP and at eighty-three the oldest voice in the archive, on stigma and isolation among older people living with HIV.

Links

BHIVAHIV i-BaseAIDS 2026, the 26th International AIDS ConferencePositively UK, peer-led support, advocacy and informationTerrence Higgins Trust

Extra Special Thanks Anonymous, Careen Hertzog, Peter Staley, Philippe Cahill, Simon Collins, Soleta Rogan, Tom McKitterick

Thanks Adam Price, Alix Fox, Apostolos James Vogiatzis, Bryn Gay, Emma20Cole, Garry Brough, Moray Laing, Ross Fletcher, Sarah Schulman, Siobhán Allison

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

CROWDFUNDER LINK

Featuring: Dr Tristan Barber (BHIVA), Sophia Strachan (Sophia Forum), Garry Brough (European AIDS Treatment Group), Dr. Brenda Crabtree-Ramírez (Instituto Nacional de Ciencias Médicas y Nutrición Salvador Zubirán), Sita Shahi (International Community of Women Living with HIV Asia Pacific), Dr. Laura Waters (The Royal Free London NHS Foundation Trust), Kene Esom (United Nations Development Programme), Dr. Chinedu Emmanuel (mothers2mothers), Julie Foreman (BC Centre for Excellence in HIV/AIDS), Deborah Carpenter (FHI 360), Andrea Domânico (CRT DST/Aids-SP). Plus archive intervews with: Caroline Guinness, Susan Cole-Haley, Ellie Harrison, Angelina Namiba.

The drug trials were run on men. The women were left to work out the rest for themselves. Dan Hall and dan glass mark AIDS 2026's focus on neglected groups, with Dr Tristan Barber of BHIVA opening and closing on the clinical case for research that finally caught up.

Archive testimony comes from Caroline Guinness, co-founder of Positively Women and diagnosed in 1986, on trials that were never designed with women in mind; Susan Cole-Haley on the stranger who wrote to her after seeing her pregnant and positive on a magazine cover; Ellie Harrison, diagnosed at twenty-one, on searching for a woman like her and finding no one; and Angelina Namiba, diagnosed in London in 1993 and given six months to live, on the friend, the peer support, and the job that got her through.

Links

BHIVAHIV i-BaseAIDS 2026, the 26th International AIDS ConferenceSophia Forum, women and HIVSophia Forum,HIV and Women: Invisible No Longer

Thanks Adam Price, Alix Fox, Anonymous, Apostolos James Vogiatzis, Bryn Gay, Careen Hertzog, Emma20Cole, Garry Brough, Moray Laing, Peter Staley, Philippe Cahill, Ross Fletcher, Sarah Schulman, Simon Collins, Siobhán Allison, Soleta Rogan, Tom McKitterick

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

CROWDFUNDER LINK

Featuring: Dr Tristan Barber (BHIVA), Antonio Flores, Damien Fagan (Gilead), ICWAP, Thorne Harbour Health, Derrick Mapp, Laura Walters (Gilead / NHS Royal Free Hospital), Luca Stevenson, Joan Stephen, Axel Bautista (Mpact Global Action), Derrick Powell, Brenda Crabtree, Maxx Boykin, Eliane Becks Nininahazwe, Fatima Hassan. Plus archive from Anthony Bird, Jim Vogiatzis, Mark S King and Chris Smith.

The drugs worked, but conversations are rarely happened about what comes next. Dan Hall and dan glass spend Day Four of AIDS 2026 exploring the gap between the headline and the aftermath, with Dr Tristan Barber of BHIVA bookending the episode on managing a condition nobody's lived with this long before.

Archive testimony comes from Anthony Bird, diagnosed in 1995 after an illness that nearly killed him, on an ordinary life once the side effects settled down; Jim Vogiatzis on the peripheral neuropathy that combination therapy left behind; Mark S King, an American writer and activist diagnosed in 1985, on the strange guilt of surviving after a decade spent preparing to die; and Chris Smith, Britain's first openly gay MP and the first parliamentarian to disclose his HIV status, on facing an uncertain future nearly forty years in.

Links

BHIVAHIV i-BaseAIDS 2026, the 26th International AIDS ConferencePositively UK, National Long Term Survivors GroupGeorge House Trust, HIV support and peer mentoring

Thanks Adam Price, Alix Fox, Anonymous, Apostolos James Vogiatzis, Bryn Gay, Careen Hertzog, Emma20Cole, Garry Brough, Moray Laing, Peter Staley, Philippe Cahill, Ross Fletcher, Sarah Schulman, Simon Collins, Siobhán Allison, Soleta Rogan, Tom McKitterick

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

CROWDFUNDER LINK

Featuring: Dr Tristan Barber (BHIVA), Andrea Carolina, Fatima Hassan, Derrick Powell, Sophie Strachan, Simon Collins, Eliane Becks Nininahazwe, Davide Scalenghe, Kene Esom, Pankaj Sethi, Winnie Sseruma, Louise Vallace, Reverend Jide Macaulay, "Jan".

HIV has always found the margins first. Live from Rio, Dan Hall and dan glass connect UK testimony to the wider global picture, with Dr Tristan Barber of BHIVA opening and closing with the clinical picture.

Archive testimony comes from Winnie Sseruma(episode drops 7 August), raised in Uganda and diagnosed in the United States in 1988; Louise Vallace(episode drops 28 August), a yoga therapist of Windrush Caribbean heritage, on shame in a small community where everyone knows everyone; Reverend Jide Macaulay(episode drops 21 August), a British Nigerian priest and founder of House of Rainbow, on his own father's support for a law that would criminalise him; and an anonymised contributor known only as "Jan", diagnosed while living in Turkey, on the state and the stateless.

Links

BHIVAHIV i-BaseAIDS 2026, the 26th International AIDS ConferenceNational AIDS Trust, Three ways the UK asylum system fails people living with HIVNational AIDS Trust, HIV in the UK: video guides for migrants

Thanks Adam Price, Alix Fox, Anonymous, Apostolos James Vogiatzis, Bryn Gay, Careen Hertzog, Emma20Cole, Garry Brough, Moray Laing, Peter Staley, Philippe Cahill, Ross Fletcher, Sarah Schulman, Simon Collins, Siobhán Allison, Soleta Rogan, Tom McKitterick

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

CROWDFUNDER LINK

Featuring: Dr Tristan Barber (BHIVA), Carluz, Davide Scalenghe, Eliane Becks Nininahazwe, Joan Stephen, Kene Esom, Pankaj Sethi, Vincent LeClerc, Martin Fenerty, Marc Thompson, Nathaniel Hall, Alexander Cheves

Not the tombstone-era kind. This one lives in your dating apps and your GP's waiting room. Dan Hall and dan glass spend Day Two of AIDS 2026 asking delegates where stigma still bites, with Dr Tristan Barber of BHIVA framing the episode with the clinical view from the consulting room.

Archive testimony comes from Martin Fenerty, a counsellor and psychotherapist from Liverpool diagnosed in 1993, on having his confidentiality broken early in his diagnosis; Marc Thompson on U=U and the men who didn't believe him anyway; Nathaniel Hall(episode drops 11 September 2026), actor and theatre maker diagnosed at seventeen, on the fifteen years he kept his status secret and the case for saying it louder; and writer Alexander Cheves on naming shame as the real enemy.

Links

BHIVAHIV i-BaseAIDS 2026, the 26th International AIDS ConferenceTerrence Higgins Trust, StigmaPrevention Access Campaign, Undetectable = Untransmittable (U=U)

Thanks Adam Price, Alix Fox, Anonymous, Apostolos James Vogiatzis, Bryn Gay, Careen Hertzog, Emma20Cole, Garry Brough, Moray Laing, Peter Staley, Philippe Cahill, Ross Fletcher, Sarah Schulman, Simon Collins, Siobhán Allison, Soleta Rogan, Tom McKitterick

#AIDS2026 #RethinkRebuildRise

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

CROWDFUNDER LINK

Featuring: Dr Tristan Barber (BHIVA), Matthew Hodson, Gus Cairns, Diego Agurto Beroiza, Silvia Petretti. Plus on-site interviews with Simon Collins, Kene Esom, Joan Stephen, Derrick Powell, Vincent LeClerc, Eliane Becks Nininahazwe, Luca Stevenson and Sophie Strachan.

The cuts are real, and they're killing people. On the opening day of AIDS 2026, Dan Hall and dan glass ask conference delegates what happens when the money that built forty years of progress simply stops arriving.

Dr Tristan Barber of BHIVA tops and tails the episode with the clinical reality of clinics shutting their doors.

Archive testimony comes from Matthew Hodson, writer, activist and former executive director of NAM aidsmap, on why the death toll is rising again; Gus Cairns, HIV journalist and educator diagnosed in 1985, on the collapse of US assistance to Africa; Diego Agurto Beroiza, Chilean theatre maker and activist, on PrEP funding disappearing in Argentina; and Silvia Petretti, chief executive of Positively UK, on grief for those already lost and anger at those still to come.

Links

BHIVAHIV i-BaseAIDS 2026, the 26th International AIDS ConferenceUNAIDS,Overcoming Disruption, Transforming the AIDS Response(2025 World AIDS Day report)UNAIDS, 2025 Global AIDS Update,AIDS, Crisis and the Power to Transform

Extra Special Thanks Anonymous, Soleta Rogan

Thanks Adam Price, Alix Fox, Apostolos James Vogiatzis, Bryn Gay, Careen Hertzog, Emma20Cole, Garry Brough, Moray Laing, Peter Staley, Philippe Cahill, Ross Fletcher, Sarah Schulman, Simon Collins, Siobhán Allison, Tom McKitterick

#AIDS2026 #RethinkRebuildRise

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Rio Calling is a six-part daily spin-off of HIV: The Morning After, broadcast from inside AIDS 2026 - the biggest HIV conference on the planet. Every day for six days, we're bringing you what's actually being said on the conference floor, what it means for people living with HIV, and how it lands against decades of lived experience from the podcast archive.

Please help to cover our costs! RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

Hosting duties fall to two Dans: Dan Hall, producer and presenter of HIV: The Morning After, and Dan Glass, ACT UP activist, author, and a man with infinite energy to make the world better. Together they unpack each day's theme, with clinical steer from Dr Tristan Barber of BHIVA. Wrapped around the raw interviews from the conference itself are clips from podcast guests including Jonathan Blake, Marc Thompson, Silvia Petretti, Ellie Harrison, Susan Cole-Haley, Angelina Namiba, Ellie Harrison and Alexander Cheves.

Please help to cover our costs! RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

Six days. Six themes. One conference deciding what happens next.

Episode 1 - Money Talks: Funding cuts, PEPFAR, and what happens when the world stops paying attention.Episode 2 - Still Ashamed: Stigma hasn't gone anywhere — it's just moved to your dating apps and your GP's waiting room.Episode 3 - Whose Epidemic?: Migration, gender, and the voices the mainstream narrative keeps leaving out.Episode 4 - Undetectable, Not Untouched: The science has moved on. Has life?Episode 5 - Left Out of the Trial: Women, research gaps, and reproductive healthcare that's still catching up.Episode 6 - The Empty Room: What we lost when the community spaces closed - and what it costs to be surviving alone.

Subscribe in this feed now - new episodes land daily throughout AIDS 2026.

Please help to cover our costs! RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

A Ukrainian DJ who started injecting heroin at 16 to help him sleep, survived six overdoses on the streets of Kyiv, and became one of Europe's most forceful voices for harm reduction and HIV treatment access - now fighting to keep supply chains open during a war.

Summary

Anton was born in Kyiv in 1986, just before the Soviet Union collapsed. His parents were public servants on small salaries, and while they worked to feed the family, the streets outside were filling with new substances flowing through newly opened borders. He started using drugs at 14. At 16, someone told him heroin would help him sleep between DJ sets. It did, briefly, and then it took over everything. For 11 years, Anton lived rough in Kyiv - sleeping in stairwells, dodging police who saw drug users as easy shakedown money, and surviving six overdoses.

The door opened through a harm reduction programme. Someone offered him a clean needle, asked if he wanted a sandwich, and didn't start with the word "drugs." That encounter led to an HIV and hepatitis C diagnosis - and to the realisation that he wanted to transform his experience into work.

Today, Anton is a founding member of the Ukrainian Network of People Who Use Drugs and one of the most prominent HIV and drug policy advocates in Eastern Europe. Since the full-scale Russian invasion in 2022, he and his peers have been using personal vehicles to transport HIV medications to regions where logistics companies refuse to go, and building online platforms so people can receive treatment by courier rather than attending destroyed clinics.

Key Moments

[01:18] Born in Kyiv, 1986 - growing up in the post-Soviet wild west, where the Iron Curtain opened to new freedoms and new substances simultaneously[05:57] Heroin as a sleeping pill - starting at 16 to manage exhaustion from DJing, and the moment the body realised it liked the euphoria too[07:04] Harm reduction vs. abstinence - why the 12-step model didn't fit, and the science that says success doesn't always mean stopping[08:03] The first harm reduction visit - being asked how he felt and whether he wanted a coffee, not lectured about his drug use[10:17] Eleven years as an ordinary street junkie - Groundhog Day on the streets of Kyiv, locked out of his parents' home, jumping at every sound in stairwells[12:02] Police and corruption - drug users as the easiest source of money for officers and doctors, and the threat of withdrawal behind bars[14:11] The dual diagnosis - HIV and hepatitis C, a positive test received as a death sentence, and the perverse logic of using more because you're dying anyway[16:43] War and supply chains - how the 2014 Crimea annexation and then Covid prepared Ukraine's HIV community for the 2022 full-scale invasion[19:36] Medication by courier - dismantling the old model of clinic-based collection, and community members driving HIV treatment through war zones in their own cars[22:23] If Ukraine falls - what Russian occupation would mean for harm reduction, opioid therapy, and the LGBTQ community, and why Anton believes it won't happen

Dedication

Anton remembers Egor, a childhood friend from the pioneer camps whose parents worked alongside his at the Ministry of Interior - one of the first people he lost to the heroin epidemic. He also remembers a brother and sister from his neighbourhood who both died of HIV-associated tuberculosis, leaving children behind.

About Anton

Anton was born in Kyiv in 1986. He is a founding member of the Ukrainian Network of People Who Use Drugs and a leading HIV and drug policy advocate in Eastern Europe. He is a DJ and a father, and takes one pill every morning at nine o'clock. He is the podcast's first Ukrainian guest.

Resources

Ukrainian Network of People Who Use DrugsEurasian Harm Reduction AssociationTerrence Higgins TrustNational AIDS Trust

If you have been affected by the themes in this episode, support is available at tht.org.uk.

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

A young woman diagnosed with HIV at 21 in 2018 on her 1,199 days of silence, the book of lies she kept to track her cover stories, and why being called brave is part of the problem.

Summary

In the summer of 2018, Ellie Harrison was 21, working in London fashion, and ordered a routine STI test because she thought a break-up was coming. The clinic called it a false positive. It wasn't. She found out for certain on a Monday lunchtime, walking towards a Greggs in Birmingham, when 40 missed calls from an NHS number lit up her phone. She never made it to the sandwich.

What followed was 1,199 days - a number now tattooed on her arm - during which Ellie told fewer than ten people and kept a physical notebook of lies to remember which cover story she'd given for the daily tablet she took at lunch. She showered in water so hot it blistered her skin. She convinced herself she was the only woman in the world with HIV. When a boy she'd drunkenly told at a freshers' party spread her status across the university, it felt like the whole of Birmingham knew. Nobody came back with anything useful. They just said: that's really shit.

On World AIDS Day 2021, she filmed a video in her bedroom with a glass of wine, got too scared to post it, went out, got blackout drunk, asked a room full of people at an afterparty to watch it, and then put it on Facebook. By morning, her phone was unusable with notifications. She went on to work with the Terrence Higgins Trust and volunteer at the George House Trust in Manchester, where she met Paul Fairweather - the first person living with HIV she'd ever knowingly had a conversation with, four and a half years after her own diagnosis.

Key Moments

[01:37] Summer 2018 - a routine STI test ordered as a precaution before an anticipated break-up, and the habit of regular testing that meant Ellie was checking for chlamydia, not HIV[04:28] The false positive - a clinic that reassured her it was probably a transport error, and the night out where she joked about her 30 seconds of fear[06:39] Walking towards a Greggs - 40 missed calls on a Monday lunchtime, the moment she didn't need the clinic to tell her what she already knew[08:12] "I didn't carry any of that knowledge with me" - taught about HIV at school, armed with none of it when it mattered. All she remembered was people dying in the 80s[10:04] The long corridor - the nurse who kept looking back to check she was still following, the refusal to sit down, and six panic attacks in the room where the words were finally said[13:42] Ringing mum and dad - parents hung over at an 80s festival in Levi's T-shirts, a mother who kept insisting it would be something else, and a three-hour drive to Birmingham[27:17] 1,199 days - the elapsed time between diagnosis and activism, the book of lies, and showering in boiling water because nobody said it would be okay[30:26] Freshers' week and the boy who told everyone - a drunken disclosure, a status shared across the university without consent, and the chaotic pub-to-pub mission to find out who knew what[36:03] The video, the wine, the afterparty - filming a disclosure video in her bedroom, being too scared to post it sober, and waking up to a phone full of missed calls that wasn't about a death[39:52] "Don't call me brave" - why Ellie believes the word reinforces the idea that HIV should be kept secret, and why talking about a thing that happened to her shouldn't require courage[41:53] The George House Trust and Paul Fairweather - volunteering before she'd ever accessed a service herself, and meeting the first person living with HIV she could sit across a table from

About Ellie Harrison

Ellie Harrison was diagnosed with HIV in August 2018 at 21. She is an HIV activist and peer mentor based in Manchester, working with the Terrence Higgins Trust and the George House Trust. She was inspired to speak publicly by the Gareth Thomas documentary, It's a Sin, and the work of Nathaniel Hall.

Resources

Terrence Higgins TrustGeorge House Trust — Manchester HIV support and servicesPositively UK — Peer support for people living with HIVNational AIDS TrustThe 2025–2030 UK HIV Action Plan

If you have been affected by the themes in this episode, support is available at tht.org.uk.

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

A fashion industry hair and makeup artist who tested positive for HIV in 1985 and went three decades without medication - his body carrying a rare genetic mutation that science wouldn't fully explain for years.

Summary

Laurence Close grew up in Zambia, where being gay carried a prison sentence. He came to London in 1983, fell for a diplomat twenty years older, and trained as a hair and makeup artist while shuttling to Paris on weekends. When a bag from Yves Saint Laurent Beauté under the boyfriend's bed confirmed the affair, Laurence went to Gower Street for a test. He already knew.

The positive result arrived in 1985, five weeks late because of back-to-back photoshoots abroad. His first thought was not how to live but when to die - timed to look like an accidental overdose, because in his parents' farming community, that would be easier to explain than AIDS. A woman called Eunice, a Nigerian lesbian who had acquired HIV through rape, changed his mind in a waiting room at St Mary's Paddington by complimenting his coat.

For 30 years, Laurence's body did something his doctors couldn't explain. His viral load stayed undetectable and his CD4 count remained abnormally high - without a single day of medication. He carried a CCR5-Delta 32 gene mutation, inherited from one parent, that interfered with the virus's ability to enter his cells. Meanwhile, he built a career doing hair and makeup for Britney Spears, Tyra Banks, Annie Lennox, and Joan Collins, never blending foundation on the back of his hand again. He felt toxic. He chose partners who were, in his words, incredibly fucked up - people he couldn't shortchange by being with them.

When U=U reached him in 2016, the loaded gun he'd carried for three decades was finally empty. He married a Swedish man he'd spoken to for two years without seeing a photograph. This podcast is his public disclosure.

Key Moments

[01:50] Zambia, boarding school, and sitting too close - growing up where homosexuality carries 14 years in prison, and the constant self-policing of gesture and gaze[05:08] London, 1983 - hairdressing school in Hammersmith, nights at Taboo and the Hippodrome, and a diplomat who showed him that gay men could go to the opera[10:53] The bag under the bed - discovering the affair in Paris, blaming himself, and deciding to get tested[16:21] The result, the calm, the calculation - receiving a positive diagnosis at 25 and planning suicide with the detachment of choosing when to swap summer tyres for winter[19:49] The fashion industry's decimation - Stevie Hughes, Dan Carrier, Luba Steubenville, and the weekly disappearances. A friend's father: "I wish you'd told me you had cancer, because then I could feel sorry for you"[24:29] Eunice at St Mary's - a woman in the Jeffreys Wing waiting room who complimented his coat and, without knowing it, gave him a reason to keep going[27:00] Disclosure in Hyde Park - why Laurence only ever told partners in places where they could leave without it being obvious, and the silence that followed[30:47] Feeling toxic - wanting love but building himself into an object of desire that would never let anyone close. "There's only so many times I can do that."[37:21] The body that wouldn't break - 5 years, 10, 15, 20, 25, 30, and still no progression. The CCR5-Delta 32 gene mutation explained[40:55] The south of France and the lie - a partner who faked leukaemia to trap him, the domestic abuse that followed, and the client at the airport who said: "If you don't leave this man, he's going to kill you"[46:58] U=U and the end of the wolf - starting medication in 2016 after 31 years, and the moment the loaded gun became an empty chamber[51:23] The Swedish man - two years of conversation with no photograph, falling in love with how someone treats you, and marriage after 60

Dedication

Laurence remembers Eunice, whose surname he never learned - the woman in the waiting room at St Mary's who made him decide to keep living.

About Laurence Close

Laurence Close is a hair and makeup artist who has worked in the fashion industry since the early 1980s. His clients have included Britney Spears, Tyra Banks, Annie Lennox, and Joan Collins. He carries a rare CCR5-Delta 32 gene mutation that slowed HIV progression for over three decades. He now lives in Sweden with his husband. This episode is his first public disclosure of his HIV status.

Resources

Terrence Higgins Trust — Living with HIV long termNational AIDS TrustThe Survivors Trust — Domestic abuse supportGalop — LGBT+ anti-abuse charityThe 2025–2030 UK HIV Action Plan

If you have been affected by the themes in this episode, support is available at tht.org.uk.

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

An American HIV journalist and long-term survivor reflects on four decades of living with HIV, from the pre-AIDS era of early 1980s West Hollywood to the age of Undetectable equals Untransmittable.

Summary

In 1980, Mark S King was a 19-year-old with a strawberry blonde fringe who won a car on The Price Is Right. His boyfriend Charlie was in the audience wearing a matching outfit. Five years later, a friend tested him for HIV after hours in a doctor's office - off the record, because a positive result could cost him his home and his job. The phone call that followed was brief: you're HIV positive, good luck, goodbye. No referral, no medication, no next steps. There was nothing to offer.

What followed was a decade spent in the thick of the West Hollywood AIDS crisis - running experimental drugs across the Mexican border, holding dying friends' hands through the Shanti Foundation, and finding moments of wilful joy on San Diego dance floors. Mark lost Ron at 26 in a Connecticut nursing home, Marcos to CMV blindness and suicide, and Lesley surrounded by friends singing him songs. When combination therapy arrived in 1996, the relief came tangled with guilt, confusion, and maxed-out credit cards. Forty years on, Mark sits on a porch in Atlanta with his husband Michael and calls happiness the only revolution he has left.

Key Moments

[00:02] The strawberry blonde twink - Mark's childhood in Louisiana as an Air Force brat, finding role models in community theatre, and navigating desire in the Deep South[07:20] Winning a car on national television - the Price Is Right appearance in 1980, the matching outfits, and why Mark keeps returning to that footage as a snapshot of the "just before"[15:27] An encounter with Rock Hudson - a dinner in West Hollywood, an invitation back, and the world-weariness of a closeted star three years from dying on the nightly news[22:25] The envelope on the table - testing positive in 1985, the after-hours blood draw, and the two-week wait for a result that came with nothing attached[24:44] The Shanti Foundation and learning not to fix people - volunteering with the dying, the philosophy of compassionate presence, and the bank teller with Kaposi's sarcoma who just stopped showing up[30:36] Drug running to Tijuana - smuggling AZT across the border, packing it under the spare tyre, and dancing to Laura Branigan on the way home. Wilful joy.[35:49] Dick, Emile, and the brandy glass - Mark's brother and his partner's final act of love - assisted suicide.[41:11] The Lazarus effect - combination therapy arrives in 1996, and the impossible emotional whiplash of being told you might actually live[44:46] Long-term survivor as relic - why Mark resists being turned into a symbol, and why HIV remains the most fascinating societal mirror he knows[49:32] Joy as a mission statement - not bravado but disposition, and the message he would send back to the boy arriving in West Hollywood: trust your instincts

Dedication

Mark remembers Antoine, a gender-fluid young Black man in gold lamé who died of AIDS only a few years ago - a reminder that the crisis is not history for everyone.

About Mark S King

Mark S King is an American HIV journalist, essayist, and NLGJA LGBTQ Journalist of the Year. His memoir My Fabulous Disease: Chronicles of a Gay Survivor was published in 2024. He was inducted into the NLGJA Hall of Fame in 2025 and is a GLAAD Award winner. He lives in Atlanta with his husband Michael. His blog is My Fabulous Disease.

Resources

My Fabulous Disease — Mark's blog and writing archiveTerrence Higgins Trust — Long-term survivor support (UK)National AIDS Trust — HIV and the law in the UKThe 2025–2030 UK HIV Action Plan

If you have been affected by the themes in this episode, support is available at tht.org.uk.

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

A preview of the third series of HIV: The Morning After — ten new interviews with people living with HIV across four decades, five countries, and every assumption you thought you had.

Summary

Series 3 of HIV: The Morning After brings ten new voices to the podcast. An American journalist who smuggled AZT across the Mexican border in the boot of his car. A fashion makeup artist who lived with HIV for 30 years without a single day of medication, carrying a rare gene mutation his doctors couldn't explain. A young woman who kept a physical notebook of lies to remember which cover story she'd given for the pill she took at lunch. A Ukrainian DJ who survived six overdoses on the streets of Kyiv and now drives antiretroviral medication through a war zone in his own car. A Ugandan-born woman who packed six months of pills and flew home to die, arriving in the UK with a CD4 count of one. A man who survived a hijacked 747 at eleven and found clarity on a single dose of LSD taken for cluster headaches. A Nigerian priest who fasted for 40 days to pray the gay away, married a woman under church pressure, and founded Africa's first inclusive LGBTQ church across 22 countries. A Black British-Caribbean woman who told nobody for ten years and found her way back to her body through yoga and Buddhism. An HIV consultant who went from writing prescriptions to needing them, becoming the first person with HIV to lead the British HIV Association. And an actor who was diagnosed at 16, kept it secret for 15 years, and turned his story into a one-man show that led to 53 five-star reviews and a part in It's a Sin.

These are not cautionary tales. They are lives.

The Guests

Mark S King — HIV journalist and long-term survivor, diagnosed in 1985 in West Hollywood. Author of My Fabulous Disease.Laurence Close — Fashion hair and makeup artist, diagnosed in 1985. Lived 30 years without medication due to a rare CCR5-Delta 32 gene mutation. This episode is his first public disclosure.Ellie Harrison — Diagnosed at 21 in 2018. Spent 1,199 days in silence before going public on World AIDS Day 2021.Anton — Ukrainian DJ and harm reduction advocate, diagnosed in Kyiv. Founding member of the Ukrainian Network of People Who Use Drugs.Winnie Sseruma — Born in Sheffield, raised in Uganda, diagnosed in 1988 in the US. Co-founded the African HIV Policy Network. Arrived in the UK with a CD4 count of one.Hamish Noah — Born in Cambridge, raised across Southeast Asia and Africa. Diagnosed in January 2020. Recovery coach and HIV advocate.Reverend Jide Macaulay — Nigerian-born Anglican priest, diagnosed in 2003. Founder of the House of Rainbow, now operating in 22 countries.Louise Vallance — Black British-Caribbean woman, diagnosed in 2006 at 37. Told nobody for ten years. Yoga therapist and host of Aunty Lou's House.Dr Tristan Barber — HIV consultant at the Royal Free Hospital, diagnosed in 2002. First person living with HIV to chair the British HIV Association.Nathaniel Hall — Actor and activist from Stockport, diagnosed at 16 in 2003. Creator of First Time (53 five-star reviews) and cast member of It's a Sin.

Resources

Terrence Higgins TrustNational AIDS TrustPositively UKGeorge House Trust — ManchesterThe 2025–2030 UK HIV Action Plan

New episodes released weekly. Subscribe on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen.

If you have been affected by the themes in this series, support is available at tht.org.uk.

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

This is a special compilation episode featuring highlights from Series 1 and 2 of HIV: The Morning After, released ahead of Series 3 in June 2026.

This episode covers what that means to be here today. It covers learning to live with uncertainty as a medical instruction and a life philosophy. The specific weight of a 20-year prognosis delivered cheerfully, echoing in your head on the London Underground for days. The six months after a diagnosis so bleak and depressive that living and dying became things you could weigh against each other with complete neutrality - and the moment of choosing to live, not because it would be easy, but because there would also be great food, great sex and the possibility of wonder.

This episode also includes an exclusive clip from Series 3 featuring journalist Mark S King.

Resources

Terrence Higgins Trust - HIV information, support and campaigning www.tht.org.uk

NAM aidsmap - Clear, evidence-based information about HIV www.aidsmap.com

Positively UK - Peer support for people living with HIV in the UK www.positivelyuk.org

National AIDS Trust - Policy and advocacy www.nat.org.uk

Samaritans - Free, confidential support if you're struggling Call: 116 123 | www.samaritans.org

Links

Listen to the full episodes:

Chris Smith — Series 2, Episode 1Matthew Hodson — Series 1, Episode 7Alexander Cheves — Series 2, Episode 2Diego Agurto Beroiza — Series 2, Episode 5Nikolaj Tange Lange — Series 2, Episode 9

Music by Paul Leonidou: www.unstoppablemonsters.com

Subscribe and listen on: Spotify | Apple Podcasts | YouTube

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

This is a special compilation episode featuring highlights from Series 1 and 2 of HIV: The Morning After, released ahead of Series 3 in June 2026.

The epidemic had a story. A specific kind of story, told in a specific kind of voice - white, male, gay. It wasn't false. But it was one story, and it left a great many people out.

This episode covers what it costs to be absent from the dominant narrative: to be a Black woman told by her GP that HIV doesn't affect ladies like her; to grow up without seeing a single image of yourself in any HIV information; to spend years planning your funeral while your friends planned their weddings.

These are remarkable people. And the episode ends with a white, gay man whose activism is aimed very much at ensuring all voices are heard, not just those that look like him.

Resources

Terrence Higgins Trust - HIV information, support and campaigning www.tht.org.uk

NAM aidsmap - Clear, evidence-based information about HIV www.aidsmap.com

Positively UK - Peer support for people living with HIV in the UK www.positivelyuk.org

National AIDS Trust - Policy and advocacy www.nat.org.uk

Samaritans - Free, confidential support if you're struggling Call: 116 123 | www.samaritans.org

Links

Listen to the full episodes:

Gus Cairns - Series 1, Episode 9Marc Thompson - Series 1, Episode 10Peter Willis - Series 1, Episode 8Martin Fenerty - Series 2, Episode 4

Music by Paul Leonidou: www.unstoppablemonsters.com

Subscribe and listen on: Spotify | Apple Podcasts | YouTubeThis is a special compilation episode featuring highlights from Series 1 and 2 of HIV: The Morning After, released ahead of Series 3 in June 2026.

Resources

Terrence Higgins Trust - HIV information, support and campaigning www.tht.org.uk

NAM aidsmap - Clear, evidence-based information about HIV www.aidsmap.com

Positively UK - Peer support for people living with HIV in the UK www.positivelyuk.org

National AIDS Trust - Policy and advocacy www.nat.org.uk

Samaritans - Free, confidential support if you're struggling Call: 116 123 | www.samaritans.org

Links

Listen to the full episodes:

Gus Cairns - Series 1, Episode 9Marc Thompson - Series 1, Episode 10Peter Willis - Series 1, Episode 8Martin Fenerty - Series 2, Episode 4

Music by Paul Leonidou: www.unstoppablemonsters.com

Subscribe and listen on: Spotify | Apple Podcasts | YouTube

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

This is a special compilation episode featuring highlights from Series 1 and 2 of HIV: The Morning After, released ahead of Series 3 in June 2026.

What do you do when you were quietly certain you were going to die, and then you didn't? This episode is about the long aftermath of survival.

It covers what grief becomes when it stops being a storm and turns into ordinary weather: going to so many funerals you stop going. It covers the particular invisibility of being a young Black gay man in HIV services that hadn't imagined you existed. A GP treating dying patients while privately compartmentalising his own diagnosis. A decade spent keeping life deliberately small - no plans, no ambitions, nothing too far ahead - and the slow, confusing work of learning to want things again when the assumption of early death turned out to be wrong.

And everywhere, just beneath the surface, the people who were months too early for the drugs that would have saved them.

Resources

Terrence Higgins Trust - HIV information, support and campaigning www.tht.org.uk

NAM aidsmap - Clear, evidence-based information about HIV www.aidsmap.com

Positively UK - Peer support for people living with HIV in the UK www.positivelyuk.org

National AIDS Trust - Policy and advocacy www.nat.org.uk

Samaritans - Free, confidential support if you're struggling Call: 116 123 | www.samaritans.org

Links

Listen to the full episodes:

Gus Cairns - Series 1, Episode 9Marc Thompson - Series 1, Episode 10Peter Willis - Series 1, Episode 8Martin Fenerty - Series 2, Episode 4

Music by Paul Leonidou: www.unstoppablemonsters.com

Subscribe and listen on: Spotify | Apple Podcasts | YouTube

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

This is a special compilation episode featuring highlights from Series 1 and 2 of HIV: The Morning After, released ahead of Series 3 in June 2026.

What did HIV do to four people across four different decades, and what effect was left when the acute crisis passed?

Seven and a half stone in an ambulance. A bruise on a chest that didn't go away. Retiring on the basis of six months to live and then watching six months keep getting longer. Seven pills before school, wrapped in tin foil at house parties and smuggled to a toilet cubicle so no one would see.

And what it means to have never known life without HIV: no before, no after, just the continuous fact of it, and the pills that became, in their own way, a form of certainty when everything else felt out of control.

Resources

Terrence Higgins Trust - HIV information, support and campaigning www.tht.org.uk

NAM aidsmap - Clear, evidence-based information about HIV www.aidsmap.com

Positively UK - Peer support for people living with HIV in the UK www.positivelyuk.org

National AIDS Trust - Policy and advocacy www.nat.org.uk

Samaritans - Free, confidential support if you're struggling Call: 116 123 | www.samaritans.org

Links

Listen to the full episodes:

Anthony Bird — Series 1, Episode 6Garry Brough — Series 2, Episode 4Peter Willis — Series 1, Episode 8Eli Fitzgerald — Series 2, Episode 7

Music by Paul Leonidou: www.unstoppablemonsters.com

Subscribe and listen on: Spotify | Apple Podcasts | YouTube

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

This is a special compilation episode featuring highlights from Series 1 and 2 of HIV: The Morning After, released ahead of Series 3 in June 2026.

A life can divide cleanly into before and after. This episode sits in the gap between them - in the waiting room, the clinic corridor, the flat you don't remember getting back to.

It covers what it felt like to receive a diagnosis across four different decades, from 1982 to the early 2020s: the isolation that followed, the absence of information aimed at people like you, the impossible mask worn at work, the referral slip kept under a bed for months. It covers what it means to plan your own death and then, for reasons you didn't expect, not go through with it. And it covers what it means to be the youngest voice in a series like this - diagnosed in an era of effective treatment, never having personally lost anyone to HIV, and yet carrying the weight of that history as something visceral and present.

Content note: this episode contains a description of suicidal ideation.

Resources

Terrence Higgins Trust - HIV information, support and campaigning www.tht.org.uk

NAM aidsmap - Clear, evidence-based information about HIV www.aidsmap.com

Positively UK - Peer support for people living with HIV in the UK www.positivelyuk.org

National AIDS Trust - Policy and advocacy www.nat.org.uk

Samaritans - Free, confidential support if you're struggling Call: 116 123 | www.samaritans.org

Links

Listen to the full episodes:

Jonathan Blake - Series 1, Episode 1Jim Vogiatzis - Series 1, Episode 3Angelina Namiba - Series 2, Episode 3Jan - Series 2, Episode 8

Music by Paul Leonidou: www.unstoppablemonsters.com

Subscribe and listen on: Spotify | Apple Podcasts | YouTube

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

dan glass was born in 1983, the year HIV was first identified as HIV rather than the gay plague. They grew up under Thatcher's Section 28 with only EastEnders' Mark Fowler and tombstone adverts for reference. Death, isolation, internalised stigma - that was all HIV meant. When dan was diagnosed in their early twenties, they got drunk, went to a friend's house, cried, and she helped them to the toilet. The next morning, they told their boss it wasn't flu after all.

For five years, dan refused treatment. The fear was too deep, the conditioning too absolute. Section 28 had taught them they were wrong, that whatever happened was their fault, that no one would help. The gravity of that silence was lethal. When dan finally saw a doctor in Berlin who told them their CD4 count meant they had AIDS, they collapsed in the shower the next day.

What followed was transformation through community. A friend in Berlin, Juliana, threw a party where everyone screamed in each other's faces and painted their feet white to pre-empt the side effects dan feared most. The next morning, in Tempelhof park, dan took their first pills. A lover named Terry introduced them to ACT UP. dan went down the rabbit hole and never came back.

Since then, dan has co-founded the reformed ACT UP London, organised die-ins in Trafalgar Square, helped secure PrEP access through spectacular direct action, written two books on queer radical history, co-founded Bender Defenders for queer self-defence, and is about to open London's first community-run LGBTQ+ space at the Joiners Arms. According to Nigel Farage, they're scum. dan takes that as a compliment.

This is the final episode of series two, and it's a fitting end: grief alchemised into action, silence challenged at every turn, and friendship held up as political resistance.

Timestamped Takeaways

00:02:43 - Section 28 meant death. Growing up under Thatcher, HIV meant death, isolation, internalised stigma, your own fault. Mark Fowler on EastEnders was the only reference. There were no queer friends, no ropes to hang on to.

00:04:22 - Missing stories. What was missing from those messages was the brilliance of the community. People weren't told the true human stories. Section 28 silenced homosexuality in schools, libraries, public institutions. dan grew up in a religious, conservative environment where being gay was an abomination. Silence layered on silence.

00:06:27 - Seroconversion. dan had what seemed like flu but wasn't. A doctor in Brighton said those three letters. It struck deep. dan didn't know what it meant scientifically or socially—just death. They got drunk, went to a friend's house, cried, and she helped them to the toilet.

00:08:23 - Telling friends one by one. It was emotionally exhausting. So dan decided to do it all at once: a show called Shafted, based on Stars in Their Eyes, on the 25th anniversary of ACT UP. At the end, they were fired from a 12-foot cock-shaped human cannon across the audience, announcing: "Tonight everyone, I'm living with HIV."

00:10:47 - Five years without treatment. dan refused medication despite it being available. Living with HIV is more than pills into bodies. Fear, internalised stigma, the conditioning that you were doomed—Section 28's pathology was hyper-individualism. You had to parent yourself because you were told you were wrong.

00:12:08 - Shingles in Glasgow. dan's nurse called it "the red roses from hell." Their immune system was in a bad way. Stress correlated with sickness. White things on the tongue, red rashes—signs the body was failing. Still, dan was rigid with fear.

00:13:44 - Berlin and the truth. A doctor in Berlin, smoking fags in a tight white shirt, gave dan the statistics. They went home, looked up what it meant, and realised they had AIDS. They collapsed in the shower the next day.

00:15:09 - Juliana's party. dan was terrified of the side effects—nightmares, white feet. Juliana threw a party where everyone screamed in each other's faces and painted their feet white. You face fear by facing it.

00:17:03 - First pills in Tempelhof. The next morning, in dan's favourite park, they swallowed the pills. Game changer. Choice made. The physiological symptoms cleared rapidly.

00:17:51 - Terry's challenge. A lover named Terry, an ACT UP Paris activist, challenged dan's shame. "It's not your shame. It's society's." They went to bed. The next morning, Terry told dan about ACT UP. dan went down the rabbit hole.

00:19:13 - The second silence. Around 2014, HIV was in what activists called "the second silence": rising transmissions among certain populations without access, cuts to education and support due to austerity, and a general belief that HIV was a thing of the 80s and 90s.

00:20:28 - Peter Staley and reformation. dan contacted Peter Staley, protagonist of How to Survive a Plague, organised a screening in London, and met Andrea Morden, a lifelong ACT UP activist whose partner John had died of AIDS. That meeting led to the reformation of ACT UP London.

00:21:28 - What ACT UP is. AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power. A diverse, non-partisan group united in anger, committed to direct action to end the HIV pandemic. It started in New York in 1987 with Larry Kramer's speech asking the room to stand up: half of you will die. What are we going to do about it?

00:23:14 - The ashes action. In 1992, people took the ashes of their murdered loved ones in a procession to the White House and threw them over the gates. Grief alchemised into rage. For dan, the alchemy of grief is one of the most potent forces in the activist toolkit.

00:24:03 - The condom on Jesse Helms' house. Peter Staley and others put a house-shaped condom on the notoriously homophobic senator's home while he was out. In Paris, they covered the obelisk. In London, they tried Nelson's Column but didn't get a photo.

00:25:08 - What a die-in is. You lie on the ground with tombstones, red ribbons, red roses. A vigil and a protest. Anyone killed by government inaction—their death is a protest. Die-ins have happened outside pharmaceutical companies, financial institutions, and in Trafalgar Square as homage to the generation before.

00:27:32 - Rebuilding community. dan has a deep need for reconnection because of Section 28 and because of their Jewish ancestry—grandchildren of Holocaust survivors. Complete obliteration creates a need for rebuilding.

00:28:19 - Intergenerational dialogue. At an early ACT UP London meeting, an older activist told younger ones: "I don't know what you've got to deal with. We lost all our friends." dan stopped him. This isn't the oppression Olympics. Listen to each other's realities.

00:29:49 - The importance of space. Queer spaces like the Joiners Arms are where ACT UP meetings happen. Space is fundamental to power. In the daytime, HIV testing and community meetings. In the evening, cabaret and cruising. An ecosystem of needs.

00:32:40 - Connecting people. dan didn't know what activism was, just had a lot of rage with no productive outlet. Through meeting incredible people, they realised their purpose was connection—intergenerational, cross-cultural, weaving the tapestry that's been denied.

00:33:08 - Section 28's wound. A quote from Samuel Delany: "I was never taught how to love or what it might mean for someone like me to feel desire. And by the time I came of age, there was no one left to teach me." dan had to stop every ten minutes watching Heartstopper to cry. The discrepancy from Section 28 is a parallel universe.

00:35:18 - Holocaust and HIV. dan's two busiest times of year are World AIDS Day and Holocaust Memorial Day. Their grandparents were survivors. The silence equals death mentality comes from that heritage. The persecuted can become oppressors if they don't work on their trauma.

00:37:15 - Whose story gets told. Gay men's stories dominate HIV narratives. But what about women, people of colour, drug users? The hierarchy of acceptable stories must be constantly challenged. Until there's healthcare for all, we have to challenge our own conditioning.

00:50:22 - Inside-outside strategy. ACT UP taught dan about working with doctors, nurses, scientists on the inside while doing direct action on the outside. Without that combination, we wouldn't have antiretrovirals or PrEP access. Protest is fundamental to humanity. The chilling effect of recent legislation tries to make it a dirty word.

00:52:27 - Three books. United Queerdom (interviews with founders of Pride), Queer Footprints (a radical queer tour guide to London), and the forthcoming ACT UP, Rise Up (working title), about what made activists get out of bed in the morning—not strategy, but soul.

00:54:57 - The empty room argument. Those who think freedom was won with gay marriage need to zoom out. Homophobic hate crime is real. Police persecution continues. Not everyone can have public displays of queer affection. Four million people are expected to die by 2030 because of foreign aid cuts. Who decides whose lives are worthy?

00:56:53 - Remembering Ray Navarro. An actor-activist from ACT UP New York who dressed as Jesus outside Saint Patrick's Cathedral during the church occupation. He died of AIDS, young. The look on his face in the footage: mischief, joy, defiance. He probably knew he was dying.

00:58:50 - The postcard. "Friendship is political. Our chosen family, our friends we can be intimate with, will get us through all the crises and barriers and bullshit. My friends mean everything to me—in a kind of dry way, but in a beautiful, joyful, mischief-making way as well."

Guest Bio

dan glass is an activist, author, and according to Nigel Farage, scum. Born in 1983, they grew up under Section 28 and were diagnosed with HIV in their early twenties, initially refusing treatment until their CD4 count crashed to AIDS-defining levels. They co-founded the reformed ACT UP London, helped secure PrEP access through direct action, and have written two books on queer radical history: United Queerdom and Queer Footprints. They are about to open the Joiners Arms, London's first community-run LGBTQ+ space.

Resources

ACT UP London -https://actuplondon.wordpress.com/Friends of the Joiners Arms:https://www.friendsjoinersarms.com/How to Survive a Plague (film) - Documentary on ACT UP New York120 BPM (film) - Trailer, see ACT UP Paris in action.United Queerdom (Book): Buy hereQueer Footprints (Book): Buy hereBender Defenders:https://www.benderdefenders.com


This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

In 2007, Nikolaj Tange Lange wrote a punk song with the chorus "Gay is the new punk because we don't give a fuck about dying while we're young." A few months later, he tested positive for HIV. He was 27, newly arrived in Berlin, and had just discovered a city where condoms were already the exception in dark rooms and sex clubs. The song, it turned out, was prophecy.

Nikolaj is a Danish writer and musician who has spent nearly two decades navigating the gap between what the world thinks HIV means and what it actually means to live with it. He's published five novels, performed in porn under his real name, and written extensively about transgressive sex, chemsex, and queer culture. His novel Romeo and Seahorse is available in English from Cipher Press.

The night of infection was at a party during the Berlin Film Festival. A guy with a mohawk, a few beers left on the coffee table, straight to the bedroom. Nikolaj told him to stop, but was slow about it. He was drunk, high, in it. Two weeks later, he was in hospital with pneumonia so severe he could barely move. The Western blot confirmed the infection was recent. Mohawk guy was the one.

What's striking about Nikolaj's story is his refusal of blame. He continued to see Mohawk guy afterwards because he was hot, because he was funny, because “once you stop being afraid of HIV, a new world opens”. He doesn't know whether he tested positive because he stopped being afraid, or whether he stopped being afraid because he tested positive. Does it even matter?

The conversation ranges across pre-PrEP Berlin, the transgressive thrill of bareback sex, the codes of "safer sex needs discussion" on Gay Romeo, and the way stigma gets reproduced even in attempts to break it. Nikolaj is wary of the Drag Race moment where someone comes out as positive and the strings swell and everyone hugs and says how important it is to keep having this conversation. A taboo, he argues, is not something we don't talk about. It's something we keep reproducing as a taboo by talking about it as one.

Timestamped Takeaways

00:02:10 - Berlin, autumn 2007. A party during the film festival. A guy with a mohawk. Beers left on the coffee table, straight to the bedroom. Drunk, slightly high, post-high. He sticks his dick inside without a condom. Nikolaj tells him to stop, but hesitates.

00:04:08 - Pre-PrEP Berlin. The song "Gay is the New Punk" was inspired by Nikolaj's experience of arriving in Berlin and realising everyone was having sex without condoms. In dark rooms and leather bars, condoms were already the exception. You could ask for one, but it was a choice.

00:05:19 - Disbelief before arrival. Before moving to Berlin, Nikolaj heard friends' stories about Connection, the big gay club, and didn't believe them. How could people be choosing this? Then he met friends living with HIV who seemed perfectly healthy. The narrative he'd internalised didn't match what he saw.

00:06:31 - danish awareness campaigns. Growing up in Denmark, HIV awareness ads played between afternoon TV programmes. The message was absolute: use a condom or die. Not using one wasn't an option. It wasn't even a thought.

00:08:00 - Transgression as intimacy. Nikolaj didn't initially experience bareback sex as more physically intimate. The difference came later, when it became part of a scene where irresponsibility and transgression were the point. For queer people whose existence is already transgressive, doing something transgressive is exciting.

00:09:11 - Fear and freedom. For years, sex had been associated with fear and responsibility. Once Nikolaj stopped being afraid, he tested positive. He doesn't know which came first.

00:09:43 - Two weeks later. The coughing starts. Pain in the back and chest, each feeding the other. By evening, he can barely move. His flatmate takes him to the emergency room.

00:11:28 - The test. They ask about his HIV status at the hospital. He doesn't know. They test. The next morning, it's positive. A Western blot confirms the infection was recent. Mohawk guy was the one.

00:12:10 - Prognosis at 27. The doctors told him he'd probably make it to 60, which at 27 felt like "whatever." He thought he'd die a little sooner, but old enough that it wouldn't make a significant difference.

00:13:05 - Quitting smoking. The pneumonia was partly caused by smoking 50 cigarettes a day. Nikolaj quit and hasn't missed one since. His doctor told him smoking a pack a day is probably worse for your health than being HIV positive.

00:13:48 - The ghost patient. The hospital had a special ward for HIV patients that no longer exists. Nikolaj felt grateful for the connection to history—this was where terminal patients had come in the worst years. A young man there looked very ill. Nikolaj felt the weight of now carrying something that was part of queer history.

00:17:50 - Mohawk guy again. Nikolaj kept seeing him afterwards. Because he was hot. Because he was funny. Because once you don't need to be sensible about sex, a new world opens. He wouldn't tell people he knew who infected him because he could predict their outrage, and he hates when people get more emotionally outraged about something than he is.

00:20:57 - No blame. It just happened. If it hadn't been Mohawk guy, it would have been someone else. It wasn't something he did; it was something that happened because Nikolaj had stopped being afraid.

00:21:57 - "Safer sex needs discussion." On Gay Romeo, this was code for HIV positive and open to bareback. When Nikolaj updated his status, the people contacting him changed. Group sessions would be organised with filters set to only include people with that setting. It created a bubble where HIV wasn't stigmatised.

00:24:14 - Safe spaces that weren't safe. Those spaces created radical intimacy around shared status, but they could also be transgression-seeking in ways that weren't healthy. The stigma returned when dating someone outside the scene.

00:25:01 - Coming out repeatedly. You don't share your status once. You share it every time you meet someone new, start a new job, go to a new clinic. The assumption is always that you're negative. It's exhausting.

00:25:42 - Managing disclosure. With someone outside the scene—younger, a tourist, trans or non-binary, not regularly part of gay spaces—you can't assume they have the same knowledge. Even if you know you're undetectable and there's no risk, is it enough that you know? What if they would be uncomfortable?

00:30:22 - Fear is embodied. Around 2013, a friend's condom broke during sex. Nikolaj told him he was positive and undetectable—the safest possible thing. The friend knew this intellectually. His body was still in panic. Knowledge doesn't just take us out of fear. We need to live through it.

00:34:47 - Trust and lying. You can't be sure someone telling you they're undetectable is telling the truth. People lie about all sorts of things to get someone into bed. It's an unfair demand to require trust.

00:35:13 - Remembering Guillaume Dustan. The French writer, openly HIV positive, who died of an overdose in 2005 at 39. His book Nicolas Pages, recently translated by Semiotext(e), documents chem sex before it was a phenomenon, radical oversharing, brilliant analysis of queer culture. Reading it felt like connection across time.

00:37:47 - The gap. Nearly two decades navigating the difference between what the world thinks HIV means and what it actually means to live with it. When Drag Race does a coming-out-as-positive episode with pink lighting and strings and hugging and "this is so important," Nikolaj cringes. A taboo is reproduced as a taboo by talking about it as one.

00:39:08 - Mentioning it casually. If you want something to be seen as not a big deal, you have to find a way to talk about it as not a big deal.

00:40:43 - The postcard. "When I look out at the queer community, I see a lot of pain and trauma, and I also see a lot of joy and pleasure. I think those two are connected. I hope we can move forward allowing space for the pain while pushing together for more joy and more pleasure. The Queer Manifesto says every time we fuck, we win. I still believe that. There's a great resistance to be found in joy."

Guest Bio

Nikolaj Tange Lange is a Danish writer and musician living in Berlin. Diagnosed with HIV in 2007, he has published five novels, including Romeo and Seahorse, available in English from Cipher Press. He has performed in porn under his real name and writes about transgressive sex, chem sex, and queer culture. His Substack is Nikolajism.

Resources

Cipher Press -cipherpress.co.uk - Publisher of Romeo and SeahorseNikolajism - Nikolaj's SubstackDeutsche Aidshilfe -aidshilfe.de - German AIDS service organisationRomeo & Seahorse (Novel):Cipher PressChemsex Support (UK): Dean StreetDanish HIV Awareness:AIDS-Fondet Denmark

This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

Jan describes himself as a global citizen. He is Turkish, Kurdish, gay, and HIV positive, and he's had to come out about each of those identities separately. Growing up in Ankara, he learned early to hide parts of himself. Kurdish was spoken at home but never taught to the children. It was too dangerous, too divisive. By fourteen, Jan had figured out that status and achievement could compensate for ethnic complexity. By the time he realised he was gay, he understood that no amount of status would protect him. His ticket out was a scholarship abroad.

The plan worked. Jan got his master's degree in the United States, had a job lined up, a future mapped. Then Covid happened. He lost his visa, his right to work, and found himself back in his parents' flat in Ankara, confined with them for 34 days straight during lockdown. A casual homophobic remark made him snap. He came out as gay in the middle of a pandemic, in a 70-square-metre flat, with nowhere to go.

He had arrived in Turkey with two weeks of PrEP left. There was no way to get more. When lockdowns lifted briefly, he met someone, asked if they were on PrEP, was told yes, and chose to have unprotected sex. Two weeks later, burning with fever, convinced it was Covid, he tested negative twice before realising it was HIV. The healthcare system was overwhelmed. Hospitals wouldn't admit non-Covid patients. Jan had to fake having Covid just to get through the doors. A doctor saw him in her personal time, sleepless after a night in intensive care. He borrowed money from friends, persuaded a pharmacy to release medication before state reimbursement came through, and took his first pill in a park, crying with relief.

Jan's voice has been altered for this episode to protect his identity. He is not yet out to his parents about his HIV status. He is still learning what it means to him.

Timestamped Takeaways

00:02:14 - Three identities to hide. Jan grew up in Turkey, a country of hidden diversity. Kurdish was spoken at home but not taught to the children. Being gay added another layer. Being HIV positive came later.

00:02:50 - Forced assimilation. The Turkish nation-state was built on a new meta-identity. Armenians, Greeks, Arabs, Circassians, Kurds—all were expected to sacrifice their past to be accepted. You learned to be overly apologetic, to over-tolerate hate remarks.

00:06:28 - Growing up in Ankara. A boringly stable place, very safe, but suffocating for a young gay person of mixed ethnicity. Jan went from school to home, avoiding the other kids. It felt too exposing.

00:08:29 - Status as armour. Up to fourteen, Jan focused on hiding his Kurdish identity through achievement. Power and status could compensate for ethnic complexity. Then puberty arrived, and he realised sexuality couldn't be hidden the same way.

00:09:25 - The scholarship. Jan worked hard for a scholarship to go abroad. He felt doomed if he stayed in Turkey as a gay man. Freedom required leaving.

00:10:18 - Covid takes everything. Jan had his master's degree, a job lined up, plans. Then the pandemic hit. He lost his visa and had to return to Turkey, back to the same environment he'd fought to escape.

00:10:56 - 34 days in 70 square metres. Confined with his parents during lockdown, a casual homophobic remark made Jan explode. He came out as gay. The world was doomed, people were dying, and the people who were supposed to love him were saying something offensive about who he was.

00:12:15 - Two weeks of PrEP left. Jan had been on PrEP in the US. In Turkey, it was nearly impossible to access—expensive, available only in select pharmacies in Istanbul, unknown to most doctors.

00:14:55 - Risk perception shifts. When you're deprived of touch, when nobody has held you with care, your risk perception changes. You start questioning less. The conversation about PrEP became performative: do you miss intimacy? Do you want this moment where two bodies connect?

00:18:39 - Convinced it was Covid. Two weeks after unprotected sex, Jan was burning with fever, convinced he was bringing Covid home to his parents. He asked them to leave. The tests came back negative. Twice.

00:20:28 - The phone call. A private clinic ran sexual health tests. Hepatitis C was negative. The HIV result was sent to public health authorities. Jan knew.

00:21:21 - Alone at home. The first time HIV hits your body, it feels horrible. Jan sat down and cried, then got up and asked himself: what have I actually lost? If he could get medication, nothing.

00:25:26 - On the state roster. In Turkey, once public health confirms your status, you're in the system for life. It affects everything, including mandatory military service. HIV-positive men are exempt.

00:25:52 - Faking Covid to get through the door. Hospitals wouldn't admit non-Covid patients. Jan pretended to have Covid to get past security. The clinics were ghost towns. The doctor who finally saw him was sleepless, zombie-like, but attentive for two minutes. It was enough.

00:29:06 - Ten pharmacies. Jan borrowed $500 from friends, went to pharmacy after pharmacy trying to persuade them to release medication before state reimbursement. A pharmacist—Jan suspects he was gay—finally agreed.

00:29:37 - The first pill. In a park, removing his mask, Jan took the pill and couldn't stop crying. A cry of relief. He was grateful for every activist who had brought treatment to this point.

00:30:50 - The clock ticking. At 25, Jan would lose his parents' health insurance. Without a job, he couldn't afford $430 a month for medication. His horizon shrank to earning $400 to survive.

00:33:09 - A new identity. Unlike being Kurdish or gay, being HIV positive was something Jan acquired, not something he was born with. He's still forming an opinion of it in real time. That's why he hasn't told his parents.

00:33:57 - Gratefulness. Every time Jan takes his pills, they're distilled with achievement, struggle, hope, resilience. HIV reminded him of everything he's capable of. It gave him life immunity.

00:38:42 - Sharing is healing. Jan shared his status with dan after watching a rough cut of season one. The sharing motivated more sharing. Being positive is a positive story.

00:40:16 - The state as salvation. Growing up Kurdish and gay, Jan had a complex relationship with the Turkish state. The first positive relationship he formed with it was through HIV care—non-judgemental, paid for, stable. He's now on a clinical trial for once-weekly pills.

00:44:09 - Nothing is guaranteed. What's given can be taken away. Gay people shouldn't take progress for granted. We live in a post-truth age.

00:45:59 - Commemorating the unknown. Jan doesn't know anyone who died of HIV. But he feels the legacy viscerally. His pills exist because of their deaths. He commemorates those who lost access during Covid, those in conflict zones, those dying still because of poverty and international disgrace.

00:48:05 - The postcard. "Peace. Full stop."

00:48:37 - Three identities. Kurdish. Turkish. Gay. HIV positive.

Guest Bio

Jan is a 27-year-old Turkish Kurdish gay man living with HIV. Diagnosed during the Covid pandemic while confined with his parents in Ankara, he navigated a healthcare system overwhelmed by the virus to access medication. His voice has been altered to protect his identity. He is not yet out to his parents about his HIV status. He now lives in London and is participating in a clinical trial for once-weekly HIV treatment.

Resources

Terrence Higgins Trust -tht.org.uk - UK's leading HIV and sexual health charityNAM aidsmap -aidsmap.com - Information on HIV and AIDSPositively UK -positivelyuk.org - Peer-led support for people living with HIVUNAIDS -unaids.org - Global HIV statistics and advocacyKurdish Identity and Support: Assemblies for DemocracyHIV & Human Rights (International):UNAIDSRefugee Support UK:Refugee CouncilTurkey LGBT+ Rights:KAOS GL


This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

Eli Fitzgerald is 26 years old and has never known life without HIV. There is no before and after, he says. There just is. He was taking seven pills a day as a child, alarms set for morning and night, unable to leave for school until he'd taken his meds. When the regime dropped to three pills, it felt life-changing. Those pills became his one certainty, the one thing he had control over.

Eli came out as a trans man at around the same time he was navigating adolescence with a diagnosis he couldn't tell anyone about. The waiting list for gender-affirming care was six to seven years. There were no role models, no one to look up to who had been through both. The isolation was profound. In the school playground, friends made jokes about AIDS without knowing what they were saying. Eli kept his secret completely hidden.

At some point, the lack of control over everything else led Eli to try to control his HIV in the only way available: stopping his medication, missing appointments. It's explained to him now as similar to how eating disorders work, that same impulse toward self-determination through self-harm. He got through it, found his people through CHIVA and the HIV sector, and eventually turned the isolation into advocacy.

Today, Eli works as a peer support integration manager and advocates nationally and internationally for trans people living with HIV. He's clear about what's needed: full integration of gender-affirming care within HIV services. The research shows that trans people with access to hormones and surgery are more likely to stay on medication, more likely to remain undetectable. If we're not allowed to be ourselves, he asks, what makes people think we're going to look after ourselves?

Timestamped Takeaways

00:02:05 - No before and after. Eli has always had HIV. There's no differentiation between one life and another. He just is HIV positive.

00:02:41 - Childhood resilience. When you're very young and know you have HIV, there's an innocence to it. It's just a diagnosis. Then you get older, hear jokes in the playground about AIDS, and realise it's much bigger than you understood.

00:04:05 - The secret. Eli never told any school. It was just a secret you kept, completely hidden. But within healthcare, his team became family, always answering questions, making appointments fun even when he was grumpy.

00:05:27 - Logical family. HIV clinics work hard to make you feel loved, not in spite of your HIV but because of it. Society tells people with HIV they're isolated, unlovable. The clinic becomes a foundation of trust.

00:06:16 - Coming out as trans. Eli came out at fifteen or sixteen. The waiting list for gender-affirming care was six to seven years. There were no role models, no one who'd been through both HIV and transition.

00:07:26 - Why role models matter. They give you hope that there's a future, that you'll be okay. Without them, you're stuck in an isolation cycle, thinking you're the only one. It erodes self-confidence.

00:09:15 - The pill regime. As a child, Eli took seven pills a day, morning and night. You couldn't leave for school without taking your meds. When it dropped to three pills at night, it was transformative. Those pills became his certainty, his one constant.

00:10:32 - The news about life expectancy. Eli was in Liverpool when the news broke that people with HIV can expect a normal lifespan. It was crazy, he says. Suddenly: we're going to be fine.

00:11:11 - Normalising mortality. Before that news, Eli had just accepted life might be shorter. You still had things to do. Go to school, watch TV, eat. Nothing really changes in that sense.

00:12:00 - Struggling with school. Between sixteen and eighteen, Eli couldn't stick with education while navigating being trans, going to college, working out what came next. His heart was always in advocacy, in wanting more for his friends and peers.

00:13:26 - Two stigmatised identities. Being trans and HIV positive felt like sitting on a 3D wobbly fence, or being a ping pong ball. But the only thing you have control over is your HIV.

00:14:52 - Stopping medication. When everything felt out of control, Eli turned to the one thing he could control: his HIV. He stopped taking his meds, missed appointments. It wasn't good, but it was his.

00:15:31 - Why people stop. There are many reasons. You can't face HIV, life is derailing, you don't want to be a person who takes meds. It works like an eating disorder, that element of control through self-harm.

00:16:45 - Pills at parties. As a teenager, Eli would go to house parties with pills wrapped in tinfoil, looking like he was hoarding drugs. He'd sneak off to the toilet so no one would see.

00:17:49 - Unanswered questions. Trans people living with HIV ask: will I be okay? Will I be allowed surgery? Can I take hormones? Will I be allowed to be myself? Will HIV stop me reaching my goals?

00:19:18 - CliniQ. The trans sexual health and wellbeing service makes you feel seen. They understand, they listen, they have your back without fear of discrimination. It's a space to breathe.

00:20:56 - Unappealing to funders. Eli was told that trans people are unappealing to funders. He's still furious. The UK struggles to report on trans people living with HIV because NHS systems aren't built for it.

00:21:53 - NHS systems failing. To change gender with a GP, Eli needed a new NHS number. But some hospitals don't update records. He's been called Miss Eli Fitzgerald in A&E, placed on women's wards. The data gets skewed because there's no set way to do it.

00:24:20 - Finding his people. The HIV sector, as much as it sometimes frustrates him, is where Eli found people who love him no matter what. They taught him how to empower himself, share his story, stand up for what he believes. It's like a hug.

00:26:05 - CHIVA. The charity supports children, young people, and young adults living with HIV in the UK and Ireland. They run an annual camp for around 100 young people aged ten to seventeen, bringing them together. It's gorgeous.

00:27:23 - Making change. Sometimes Eli feels he's making a difference, sometimes not. He struggles with confidence, finds public speaking terrifying. But the biggest change is helping individuals understand HIV doesn't define them.

00:28:50 - Trans inclusion in HIV services. It's not perfect. It's pot luck. Most HIV clinicians want to know more, want to help, but there's no guidance, no system in place.

00:29:47 - The priority. To end HIV transmissions by 2030, we need full integration of gender-affirming care in HIV services. Trans people with access to hormones and surgery are more likely to stay on medication, more likely to remain undetectable.

00:31:35 - To young trans people with HIV. Keep going. Reach out. Don't let HIV define your transition. You can still access hormones, even if you have to wait. And be angry. Let it out in a meaningful way. There is a future.

00:32:53 - Remembering Lou Sullivan. Eli chooses Lou Sullivan, a trans man in America who was told he couldn't be a gay trans man. Doctors wouldn't let him transition. His quote: "They told me I couldn't be a gay man, but now it looks as though I'm going to die one." His diaries, written until his death, got Eli through the isolation.

00:34:59 - The postcard. "Just be nice to people. You don't know what people are going through. Accept them for who they are. Don't judge."

Guest Bio

Eli Fitzgerald is a peer support integration manager and advocate for trans people living with HIV. Now 26, he has lived with HIV his entire life and came out as a trans man in his mid-teens. He works nationally and internationally to improve services for trans people with HIV, pushing for the integration of gender-affirming care within HIV treatment. He credits organisations like CHIVA with helping him find community and purpose.

Resources

CHIVA -chiva.org.uk - Supporting children and young people living with HIV in the UK and IrelandCliniQ -cliniq.org.uk - Trans sexual health and wellbeing servicePositively UK -positivelyuk.org - Peer-led support for people living with HIVLou Sullivan's Diaries https://www.gaystheword.co.uk/product-page/youngman-selected-diaries-of-lou-sullivanTerrence Higgins Trust -tht.org.uk - UK's leading HIV and sexual health charityTrans Plus HIV Care (UK):56 Dean Street ServicesSophie Forum:https://sophiaforum.net


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Silvia Petretti came to London from Rome in 1986, aged twenty, fleeing grief after her mother's sudden death. The plan was a two-week English course. She never went back. London in the late 80s was vibrant with clubs, music, warehouse parties, the summer of love. She settled in Brixton, fell in love with Afro-Caribbean culture, studied African languages and arts, and began promoting drumming and dance.

In 1997, while in Rome caring for her father who had Alzheimer's, Silvia contracted cerebral malaria on a trip to Senegal. In hospital, recovering slowly, a nurse offered her an HIV test at the bedside, no counselling, no privacy. The result was positive. She was thirty years old, alone, and told she might have one or two years to live. Her first treatment regime was eighteen pills a day, some with food, some without, alarms set through the night. The drugs were toxic. Skin flaked. Bodies deformed. You didn't know, she says, if AIDS was going to kill you or the medication.

For months, Silvia told almost no one. She felt unlovable, untouchable, toxic. While her friends were getting married and planning futures, she was planning her funeral. Then a doctor at St George's Hospital suggested she visit a support group called Positively Women. Walking into that room, seeing women of all backgrounds living well with HIV, changed everything. Within six months, she was volunteering. By 2001, she was working there. Today, she is Chief Executive of Positively UK, the organisation that Positively Women became, leading peer support services embedded in NHS clinics across London and beyond.

Timestamped Takeaways

00:02:19 - Rome to London. Silvia's mother died when she was twenty. Grief brought her to London for what was meant to be a two-week English course. She stayed.

00:03:22 - 1980s London. The city was vibrant with clubs, warehouse parties, the acid house scene. For a young woman from traditional Rome, it had everything to offer.

00:04:09 - Brixton and African culture. Living in Brixton, Silvia fell in love with Afro-Caribbean culture, blues parties, squats, artists. She studied African languages and Yoruba culture.

00:05:21 - Malaria and diagnosis. In 1997, Silvia contracted cerebral malaria in Senegal. In hospital in Rome, not recovering, a nurse offered an HIV test at the bedside with no counselling. The result was positive.

00:07:13 - Terror and shame. There was no information, no support. Silvia told no one and cried for weeks. The first six months are a blur of trauma and shock.

00:08:29 - Thirty years old. Silvia was working multiple jobs, trying to save for a master's degree. She had no financial stability. Everything around her said this was her fault, that she was shameful, unlovable, untouchable.

00:10:34 - Invisible as a woman. In 1997, HIV was still framed as a gay disease. There was nothing for women, no condoms given, no conversation about what came next.

00:11:02 - Eighteen pills a day. Silvia's first regime included drugs like Invirase, Ritonavir, and DDI. Some needed food, some didn't. Alarms through the night. Impossible adherence. You didn't know if AIDS or the medication would kill you.

00:12:57 - Body dystrophy. The drugs caused fat redistribution, deformed bodies, thin arms, enlarged stomachs. Women stopped being asked if they were pregnant. For women, whose appearance is so often tied to value, it was devastating.

00:14:39 - Fragile and toxic. Silvia felt her body was hosting the enemy. Her future was gone. While friends planned weddings and children, she planned her funeral.

00:16:51 - Back to London. After her father died, Silvia returned to London with £100 and a virus. She hadn't told her brother. She was grieving, lonely, and very low.

00:17:16 - St George's Hospital. A doctor named Davidson saw Silvia regularly. For 45 minutes each visit, Silvia just cried. Eventually, the doctor suggested antidepressants and a support group called Positively Women.

00:18:19 - The first support group. Walking in, Silvia couldn't believe it. Women from Africa, women with children, a crèche. Everyone looked well and lively. She kept asking: are they all living with HIV?

00:19:17 - Learning to live. Slowly, attending regularly, Silvia heard women discussing dating with HIV, something she couldn't imagine. She learned her eighteen pills could become two. A peer told her to demand better treatment from her doctor.

00:20:40 - Women's invisibility. Women are 52% of people with HIV globally, over eighteen million, yet most research is done on men. Treatments had worse side effects for women because they weren't studied on women's bodies.

00:22:20 - Speaking up as a woman. Socialised to be quiet, to not speak about her needs, Silvia found it hard to contribute in meetings dominated by articulate British-born gay men. She advocates for critical mass: at least three women in any room, so voices can be heard.

00:24:38 - Sheila and Janey. Positively Women was founded in 1987 by Sheila Gilchrist and Janey Davis, women who acquired HIV through injecting drug use. They started in a front room, facing scepticism from clinics. By 1992, Princess Diana was opening their offices. Both died of AIDS in the early 90s.

00:28:37 - From receiving to giving. Within six months of attending, Silvia became a volunteer. In 2001, she got a job as a peer support worker, including outreach in Holloway Prison.

00:31:30 - Choosing visibility. Around 2004-2005, Silvia realised her invisibility colluded with stigma. She began speaking to media, having photos taken, posing for a sculpture by artist Marc Quinn made of antiretrovirals, exhibited at the Wellcome Trust.

00:33:33 - Positively Women becomes Positively UK. When another organisation for people with HIV closed, the community asked Positively Women to expand. The peer-led model was extended to everyone.

00:35:08 - Peer support in clinics. Over the past five years, Positively UK has embedded peer supporters in nineteen London clinics and several across England. The NHS is starting to understand lived experience matters.

00:36:49 - Resistance from professionals. Some NHS staff see peers as "just patients" and resist sharing systems or including them in multidisciplinary teams. But peer supporters are trained professionally, understanding confidentiality, safeguarding, boundaries. It's about sharing power.

00:39:35 - Women today. Things have improved. More women are open about their status. U=U has helped. But clinical trials still underrepresent women. Voices aren't yet as strong as men's. There's work to do.

00:41:13 - What gets missed. Women's bodies change throughout life. Reproductive health, contraception, motherhood with HIV, menopause—all need gender-specific support. 85% of women with HIV in the UK are of African origin, bringing intersections of migration, racism, poverty, mental health, and gender-based violence.

00:44:56 - The younger Silvia. She's still within me, Silvia says. The broken part needs to be loved as it is. In a dream, Silvia told her dead mother: if I could choose again, I would always choose a life with HIV. Her mother nodded.

00:46:17 - Gratitude and grief. HIV has been Silvia's greatest teacher. Through it, she met an extraordinary community, became part of a revolutionary health movement. She grieves those lost without treatment and remains angry for those still dying globally.

00:48:04 - Remembering Sheila and Janey. Silvia asks us to remember the founders of Positively Women and all the women activists whose names we don't know.

00:48:52 - The postcard. "If we can love and accept ourselves in our entirety, including the difficult parts, we become much more ready to love and embrace others as they are."

Guest Bio

Silvia Petretti is Chief Executive of Positively UK, a national peer-led organisation supporting people living with HIV. Born in Rome, she has lived in London since 1986. Diagnosed with HIV in 1997, she joined Positively Women as a volunteer, became a staff member in 2001, and has led the organisation through its expansion into NHS clinics across London and England. She has over 25 years of leadership in the HIV sector.

Resources

Positively UK -positivelyuk.org - Peer-led support for people living with HIVSophia Forum -sophiaforum.net - Network for women living with HIV in the UKPositively UK (CEO):https://positivelyuk.orgFast Track Cities Leadership:Team ProfileTerrence Higgins Trust -tht.org.uk - UK's leading HIV and sexual health charity


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Diego Agurto Beroiza is Chilean, HIV positive, and living in London. When someone in his community dies from HIV-related causes, he says, we become incomplete. So he's building a museum. Not a building, but a living archive made of testimonies performed on stage. He calls it the Living Museum of Emotional Archives, built on a simple idea: when someone dies, their emotional archive shouldn't disappear with them.

This conversation, recorded while Diego was in Santiago, covers the shadow of Chile's dictatorship over the early HIV response, the experience of being a migrant accessing services in London, and the rising threat of the far right across Latin America and beyond. Diego is direct about what he sees: funding cuts to PrEP in Argentina, conservative victories in Chile, the same playbook spreading across borders. He doesn't think the UK is immune.

Diego was an activist before his diagnosis, but receiving his own positive result changed something. He had the knowledge, he thought, until suddenly he felt he knew nothing. Treatment came within a month, but what stayed with him was the memory of his new community, the history of those who came before him, who didn't have what he now has. That history, he believes, must be preserved and performed.

Timestamped Takeaways

00:02:38 - Chile's dictatorship and patient zero. The coup began in 1973. Chile's first HIV case was recorded in 1984. The dictatorship declared it wasn't a national problem, just one case, just gay people. The bodies from that era are still being searched for today.

00:03:29 - Diagnosis changes everything. Diego was an activist before testing positive. He thought he had the knowledge. When the diagnosis came, he felt he knew nothing. His identity shifted. He became part of a community with a different history.

00:05:41 - Arriving in London. Diego arrived in 2023 with connections through Terrence Higgins Trust. For others without those links, language barriers and fragmented information make access harder. There's also fear that speaking publicly about HIV status could affect immigration.

00:07:20 - Stigma built in the 80s. Chile's patient zero died during the dictatorship. The mass media, closely aligned with the regime, framed HIV as a "gay cancer." That construction of stigma persists.

00:09:02 - Diaspora as reinvention. Moving to London allowed Diego to speak publicly about his status in ways that felt impossible in Chile. The legal protections in the UK made a difference. He used his condition to speak politically, in universities and other spaces.

00:09:39 - Telling his family. Diego didn't want to tell his mother because she would cry, and he didn't have the energy to explain everything. This year, he finally had the conversation, setting boundaries first: he would explain what happened, that he's undetectable, that he won't die. Questions could come tomorrow.

00:11:08 - The far right wins Chile. The week before this recording, Chile elected a far-right president with close ties to Pinochet-era politics. Diego's community is in danger. They know what these politicians think about LGBTQ+ people, about women's rights, about those living with HIV.

00:12:36 - Guilt as a weapon. The far right uses guilt, Diego explains. Catholic ideas of sin, the notion that people living with HIV are responsible for their condition and should pay for their own treatment. In Argentina, funding for PrEP has been cut. The same ideas are spreading.

00:14:28 - A pandemic returning. If funding is cut and treatment becomes unaffordable, the pandemic will come again. HIV rates are already rising in parts of Europe and Latin America. Nobody wants to call it a pandemic, but Diego believes it could become one.

00:15:08 - Why should you pay? Diego answers the question directly: because we are a society. He pays taxes for schools and maternity care despite having no children. Healthcare is collective. One part of the community's problem is everyone's problem.

00:16:56 - Conservative strategies are old. The Bible, the family, the same playbook for a thousand years. Queer communities need new strategies, need to think faster. Maybe performance isn't enough right now. Maybe the street is needed.

00:18:06 - Why the UK should care. When Chile falls to the far right, it becomes an example for others. Trump's victory enabled others. Argentina, El Salvador, Chile, these are models being watched. The UK is not safe.

00:20:30 - Human rights are universal. When one group is endangered, it's a problem for humanity. The genocide being watched on Instagram isn't just Palestine's problem. It's everyone's. The same applies to HIV.

00:21:43 - Real action, not hashtags. Diego is concerned about the future. Sharing stories on Instagram and sending hugs isn't enough. Something really active is needed. Connections between groups, between activists, across borders.

00:22:12 - Theatre as testimony. The Living Museum of Emotional Archives collects testimonies and performs them. When audiences hear from survivors, from people who lost someone, from people recently diagnosed, from those who've been fighting for thirty years, stigma can be challenged. The "bad guy" stereotype dissolves.

00:24:38 - Being a topic. At an academic conference, all the LGBTQ+ content was siloed into its own table. Diego asks: why are we a topic? A trans researcher studying Palestinian literature was placed in the queer panel, not the literature panel. The structures need to change.

00:26:22 - Remembering Scarlett Parra. A prominent figure in Chile's queer community, Scarlett was caught between private and public healthcare systems when she was diagnosed. The bill for emergency care was £10,000, impossible when the minimum wage is £500 a month. Her death was a moment for the community.

00:28:25 - The postcard. "Human rights are in danger. We need to be together without countries, without borders. Fighting, reading, talking in all the spaces. The genocide is happening now. Tomorrow could be another country. Tomorrow could be our houses."

Guest Bio

Diego Agurto Beroiza is a Chilean actor, performer, director, and activist living in London. He works with Positive East, Terrence Higgins Trust, and the Lobby, using theatre and performance to amplify the voices of migrant communities, LGBTQ+ groups, and people living with HIV. He is the creator of the Living Museum of Emotional Archives, a performance-based project that preserves and shares testimonies from HIV communities.

Resources

Positive East -positiveeast.org.uk - HIV support and services in East LondonTerrence Higgins Trust -tht.org.uk - UK's leading HIV and sexual health charityNAZ -naz.org.uk - Sexual health for BAME communitiesThe Living Museum of Emotional Archives:https://www.instagram.com/e.archives.hiv/HIV & Migration Support:UKLGIG / Rainbow MigrationOscar Wilde Society (Literature Reference):https://oscarwildesociety.co.ukChilean LGBT+ Rights:Movilh Chile


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Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

Garry Brough grew up in a Welsh mining village in the 1970s and 80s, where being different meant being singled out. He was teased and tormented daily, long before he knew he was gay. His father, the local football team manager, kept trying to take him to matches. It never took. At eleven, Garry dropped Welsh and took Italian, reasoning that a foreign language was his ticket out. He assumed the rest of the UK was as suffocating as the valleys. Perhaps another country would be better.

London, when he arrived, was transformative. Within two weeks, he was at Camden Palace in makeup and satins, watching a psychedelic goth diva, and nobody looked twice. He went out six or seven nights a week and drank at every one. By his final year of university, it was falling apart. A lecturer gently asked if drink might be a problem. He detoxed, got sober, then relapsed after his HIV diagnosis in 1991. He was 23. The prognosis was five years.

In 1995, the bruise that wouldn't fade turned out to be Kaposi's sarcoma. His CD4 count was 84. The Aids diagnosis arrived four years before he was supposed to die. He'd done everything right, and it hadn't worked. On his 30th birthday, a birthday he was never meant to see, Garry started combination therapy. Within days, he felt more alive than he had in years.

The decades since have been spent building peer support infrastructure across the UK, from the Bloomsbury Clinic to Positively UK to the NHS. Garry now works on Fast Track Cities, the initiative aiming for zero transmissions, zero deaths, and zero stigma by 2030. He recently got married. The 23-year-old who couldn't imagine being loved would never have believed it.

Timestamped Takeaways

00:02:15 - Growing up in the Welsh valleys. Garry describes an insular community with fixed expectations. Boys became miners. They married their childhood sweethearts from the next street. He didn't fit.

00:03:16 - Teased before he knew why. Long before Garry understood he was gay, his peers recognised difference. The daily torment started early.

00:06:20 - Finding others. At seventeen, Garry met people from neighbouring towns who were going down to Cardiff at weekends. There was suddenly a group with something in common, and it was liberating.

00:08:21 - Italian as an escape route. At eleven, Garry chose Italian over Welsh, reasoning that a foreign language would take him further from home than anywhere else in the UK.

00:09:45 - London, week two. At Camden Palace, in satins and makeup, nobody pointed or shouted or spat. The sense of belonging was immediate and lasted for years.

00:12:38 - Drinking as escape. From sixteen, alcohol released Garry from fear. In London, with clubs every night of the week, the drinking escalated. By his final year, he was passing out nightly.

00:15:09 - Detox and relapse. A lecturer suggested drink might be the problem. Garry detoxed medically, got sober for a year, then convinced himself he could drink normally again. Within three days, he was back to lunchtime drinking.

00:16:04 - Testing every year. From 1985, when the test became available, Garry went annually. Friends thought he was mad. He wanted to know.

00:17:26 - The positive result. In February 1991, eight months sober, he assumed everything would be fine. It wasn't. He traced it back to those final chaotic weeks of drinking before his first detox.

00:19:45 - Five years to live. The doctor laid it out plainly. Two to three years before symptoms, another couple after that. Garry was 23. He decided to finish his degree.

00:22:18 - Planning the end. Garry told friends and family he wouldn't allow himself to become bedridden and nurse-dependent. When it got bad, he would take his life. He wrote a living will.

00:23:22 - Miserable drinking. After graduating, Garry started drinking again, but this time it was solitary and joyless. After six months, he asked himself: do you want to die drunk and miserable, or have five years of life?

00:26:42 - Watching friends disappear. The early to mid 90s was the peak. Young men with walking sticks. People you saw deteriorate. The phrase "so-and-so's in hospital" became commonplace.

00:30:01 - The Aids diagnosis. In 1995, a bruise that wouldn't fade turned out to be Kaposi's sarcoma. Garry's CD4 count was 84. Combined with the candidiasis already present, it was an Aids-defining diagnosis. He had spent four years doing everything right. It felt like a cheat.

00:33:26 - The long-term survivor quiz. Reading American newsletters, Garry found a list of twelve qualities associated with longer survival. He ticked eight. He resolved to get all twelve.

00:36:48 - Seeing someone rise from a deathbed. A friend meant to be dying walked into a bar saying he was going dancing. He'd started the new combination therapy in hospital. Garry went to his doctor.

00:38:16 - Treatment on his 30th birthday. Garry insisted on making it to thirty on his own terms, with chemotherapy alone. On his birthday, he started the new drugs. Within days, he felt more alive than he had in years.

00:42:08 - Immune reconstitution syndrome. A month after starting treatment, Garry developed pneumocystis pneumonia. He was allergic to the drugs. The nurse asked if he'd like to see the chaplain. He ranted at the chaplain, recovered, and carried on.

00:43:20 - Rehabilitation through peer support. The YMCA's Positive Health Program helped Garry rebuild his lungs. He started volunteering, then teaching. Seeing people who'd been in his position get better was transformative.

00:47:28 - Designing a program for internalised stigma. HIV stigma, Garry explains, rarely arrives alone. It hooks onto existing marginalisation, whether sexuality, migration, gender, or drug use. His program helps people untangle what came first.

00:50:48 - The first question. Working in a clinic from 2004 to 2009, Garry met every newly diagnosed person. Behind closed doors, they would always ask the same thing: how long have I really got? They didn't believe the doctors.

00:51:48 - Fast Track Cities. The initiative brings together the mayor's office, NHS, voluntary sector, and community representatives, aiming for zero transmissions, zero deaths, and zero stigma by 2030.

00:53:45 - The work that remains. More people have disengaged from care than remain undiagnosed. Stigma, mental health, substance use, homelessness, immigration status, all intersect to push people away from treatment.

00:56:11 - Love after diagnosis. When Garry was diagnosed, he thought no one would ever want him. For a long time, he only dated other positive men. Eventually, he learned to feel lovable again. He recently got married.

00:58:44 - What the 23-year-old would think. The younger Garry had so little sense of self-worth that he'd laugh at the idea of marriage. He couldn't separate other people's judgements from who he was.

01:01:01 - Remembering Eddie. Garry recalls a man he dated briefly, who later developed pneumonia but insisted it wasn't HIV-related. Eddie died of Aids in hospital, still in denial. Garry thinks about what could have been different.

01:03:28 - The postcard. "For as tough as times can be, there is always hope. All you really have to do is get through today. Tomorrow will come on its own terms."

Guest Bio

Garry Brough was diagnosed with HIV in 1991 and received an Aids diagnosis in 1995. He started combination therapy on his 30th birthday in 1997. For the past 25 years, he has worked in peer support and HIV advocacy, including roles at the Bloomsbury Clinic, Terrence Higgins Trust, and Positively UK. He currently works on the Fast Track Cities initiative, which aims to end HIV transmissions, deaths, and stigma by 2030.

Resources

Positively UK -positivelyuk.org - Peer-led support for people living with HIVFast Track Cities London -fasttrackcities.london - The initiative to end HIV in LondonTerrence Higgins Trust -tht.org.uk - UK's leading HIV and sexual health charityLondon Friend -londonfriend.org.uk - LGBTQ+ mental health and wellbeingBloomsbury Network (Peer Support):https://www.bloomsburynetwork.co.uk/


This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

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Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

In 1993, Angelina Namiba was finishing her finals at Manchester Metropolitan University when she fell seriously ill. Her GP suggested an HIV test. She took the referral paper, put it under her bed, and didn't go. When he wrote again, underlining "strongly" in red, she went for the test but never collected the results. She already knew what HIV looked like. Her brother, studying in London, had been in and out of specialist wards with Kaposi's sarcoma, meningitis, and epileptic fits. He died at Mildmay Hospice. She was terrified.

Eventually, pre-test counselling gave her the courage to try again. A friend from secondary school in Kenya called and said: ring me when you get the result. Whatever it is, I'll be there. Angelina tested positive in her early twenties, believing she had perhaps six months to live.

She didn't die. She took a job the same week as her diagnosis to keep busy whilst waiting for the end. That decision, and the peer support she found through organisations run by gay men who already knew how to do this work, kept her going. In 1998, she had a daughter, born HIV-free thanks to treatment during pregnancy. She went on to co-found the 4M Network, training mentor mothers to support women through the pregnancy journey. And with four other African women living with HIV in the UK, she co-authored Our Stories Told by Us, a book reclaiming the narrative from statistics and tragedy.

Timestamped Takeaways

00:02:09 - Before diagnosis. Angelina was focussed on her university finals. As a foreign student from Kenya, she needed to justify the fees her mother had paid.

00:03:11 - The spirit of Harambee. In Kenya, communities come together to help those in need, whether for school fees, funerals, or weddings. This collective spirit shaped Angelina's approach to peer support.

00:04:41 - The test she didn't take. After her GP suggested an HIV test, Angelina put the referral under her bed and went to the library to look up hepatitis B instead. HIV felt too frightening to face.

00:06:32 - No information for women like her. Everything Angelina had seen about HIV featured white gay men. The image of Freddie Mercury on the tabloids after his death. Men getting ill and dying. Nothing aimed at African women.

00:07:55 - The letter underlined in red. When Angelina still hadn't gone for the test, her GP wrote again, underlining "strongly" in red ink. That scared her enough to go.

00:10:09 - What she already knew. Angelina's brother had been diagnosed before her. She watched him develop Kaposi's sarcoma, meningitis, and epileptic fits. He spent his final year between specialist wards and died at Mildmay Hospice. This was her understanding of HIV.

00:11:24 - A friend at the end of the line. Before going for her results, Angelina's school friend from Kenya said: call me whatever happens. Knowing someone was waiting made it possible to face the news.

00:12:40 - Two ways to take it. Diagnosed in her early twenties, Angelina decided she could either go negative or make the most of her remaining time. She chose the latter.

00:13:24 - Finally, another woman. A friend came to Angelina with news of her own diagnosis. Angelina's response: yes, finally, another woman in London living with HIV. Her friend took her to support groups.

00:14:47 - Learning from gay men. The main support available came from organisations led by gay men who already understood stigma, illness, and mutual aid. They welcomed the women and showed them how to do support work themselves.

00:16:43 - Stigma and silence. Many African women were being diagnosed but not accessing services. Internalised stigma, fear of judgement, and the taboo around talking about sex kept them hidden.

00:18:25 - "How did you get HIV?" Journalists kept asking this question, trying to place her in a box of guilt or innocence. Angelina eventually answered: I got HIV not because of what I did, but because of what I didn't do. I didn't use a condom. Like millions of other young people.

00:21:57 - Pregnancy and motherhood. In 1998, Angelina had a daughter, born HIV-free thanks to treatment during pregnancy. Guidelines then required caesarean section and no breastfeeding. She kept a week-by-week pregnancy diary for her daughter to read.

00:23:57 - Eighteen months of waiting. In those days, babies were tested repeatedly until 18 months old. Only then could mothers breathe a sigh of relief.

00:25:01 - Her daughter now. Angelina's daughter is a singer-songwriter. She can be found on Instagram at @realhamzaa.

00:26:33 - The 4M Network. Angelina co-founded this perinatal peer mentoring project. 4M stands for My Health, My Choice, My Child, My Life. It trains mentor mothers to support their peers through pregnancy and beyond.

00:27:37 - Why mentor mothers matter. A mentor mother has walked the journey before. She understands the anxieties, the domestic violence some women face when disclosing, the immigration issues, the poverty. She can hold your hand through it.

00:29:52 - Breastfeeding and choice. With undetectable viral load, women can now be supported to breastfeed safely if they choose. HIV should not remove that option.

00:31:59 - Disclosure from a position of power. When sharing your status, Angelina advises doing so not from fear but from trust. You are giving someone information because you believe they should have it. If they walk, that's about them, not you.

00:33:30 - Learning from the Global South. African countries have incredible interventions, skills, and expertise. The flow of knowledge shouldn't only go one way.

00:34:22 - Our Stories Told by Us. With four other African women living with HIV in the UK, Angelina co-authored a book celebrating the African contribution to the HIV response. Over forty contributors, each with a photograph, challenging stigma and reclaiming the narrative.

00:39:45 - Remembering her brother. Angelina asks us to remember Kennedy, known as Kay. A gentle soul who loved fashion, saved his money for quality, danced beautifully, and made her laugh.

00:40:53 - The postcard. "Women living with HIV are just like you and me. We are sisters, friends, lovers, parents. With access to treatment and support, we can lead healthy, fulfilling lives. We can start families if we wish. We are just like you."

00:42:12 - Thank you to the activists. Angelina pays tribute to the early gay activists who put their bodies on the line for treatment and research. Without them, many would not be here today. She gives a special shout-out to dan glass, who "puts the act into activism."

Guest Bio

Angelina Namiba is originally from Kenya and has been living with HIV since 1993. She is a co-founder of the 4M Network, which trains mentor mothers to support women through pregnancy. She worked for many years at Positively Women (now Positively UK) and co-authored Our Stories Told by Us: Celebrating the African Contribution to the UK HIV Response. She is a mother, mentor, and tireless advocate for women's voices in the HIV response.

Resources

Our Stories Told by Us -ourstoriestoldbyus.com - The book celebrating African contributions to the UK HIV response4M Mentor Mothers Network:https://4mmm.org/Salamander Trust (Trustee):https://salamandertrust.netUK AIDS Memorial Quilt:https://aidsquiltuk.orgPositively UK:https://positivelyuk.orgHIV and Black African Communities in the UK (NAT): https://nat.org.uk/publications/hiv-and-black-african-communities-in-the-uk/Angelina's daughter Hamzaa on Instagram:@realhamzaa


This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

Alexander Cheves grew up on a 500-acre farm in rural Georgia, raised by evangelical missionary parents who blocked gay websites and warned him that choosing this "lifestyle" meant choosing death. At sixteen, he decided to come out anyway, convinced he was trading a long life for a brief, honest one. He tested positive for HIV at twenty, in 2013, during his final year of college.

What followed wasn't the manageable adjustment the medical timeline might suggest. In the six months after diagnosis, Alexander fell into a depression so severe he nearly didn't survive it. He went through a period of manic sex without disclosure, behaviour he's since written about with unflinching honesty in his memoir My Love Is a Beast. He later learned from infectious disease specialists that this response is statistically common, though rarely discussed.

This conversation covers Alexander's decade as a sex worker, his move from Atlanta to New York to Berlin, his relationship with drugs and nightlife, and his views on HIV criminalisation and personal responsibility. He talks about friends who didn't make it, including one who died after "bug chasing" and never sought treatment. And he reflects on turning thirty, an age his father once predicted he wouldn't reach, and discovering that life only got better from there.

Timestamped Takeaways

00:02:25 - Growing up isolated. Alexander describes the 500-acre farm, the Christian parental blockers, and arriving at college in 2010 believing gay life still looked like 1985.

00:05:18 - Choosing death over the closet. At sixteen, Alexander made a conscious decision that a brief, honest life was preferable to survival in hiding. He wrote a 13-page poem debating it with himself.

00:09:37 - The closet is unendurable. Alexander reflects on why so many queer men choose perceived shorter lives over staying hidden. The daily anxiety of concealment, he argues, is a form of suffering that cannot be sustained.

00:12:20 - College and consequences. With no sex education from his parents, Alexander went wild. He was in and out of the student health clinic constantly. In hindsight, testing positive at twenty was no surprise.

00:14:43 - The drive to the clinic. When the clinic refused to give results over the phone, Alexander knew. The six months that followed were the hardest of his life to survive.

00:16:05 - 2013 realities. Pre-PrEP, pre-U=U. Doctors worried about medication adherence in young patients. Alexander was told disclosure was entirely his responsibility.

00:18:04 - No one would touch him. Overnight, his sex life ended. The only partners willing to engage were older men who understood HIV. These "gay daddies" saved his life.

00:19:52 - The manic period. Alexander describes anonymous, strategic sex without disclosure in the months before medication. He later learned this response is clinically documented, though he'd thought himself uniquely transgressive.

00:24:22 - Sex work and healing. Alexander spent nearly a decade as an escort, learning that many clients simply wanted someone to talk to. The loneliest were often older men who'd lost everyone in the plague years.

00:29:02 - Drugs, loneliness, and gay culture. Higher rates of substance abuse among gay men, Alexander suggests, stem from isolation, societal trauma, and a culture built in spaces of consumption.

00:30:17 - Harm reduction, not abstinence. Therapists at Gay Men's Health Crisis in New York focussed on moderation. Combined with daily meditation started after diagnosis, Alexander found a relationship with drugs that works for him.

00:36:09 - The friend who didn't make it. A fellow sex worker and friend, into bug chasing, caught HIV deliberately and never sought treatment. Alexander believes shame killed him as much as the virus.

00:41:01 - HIV criminalisation. American law still places responsibility entirely on the positive partner, even in consensual encounters. Alexander argues this is outdated, weaponised, and ignores individual agency.

00:45:48 - Bareback culture as safe space. In spaces where everyone shares responsibility, status becomes irrelevant. For Alexander, these environments were healing.

00:50:38 - Surviving past thirty. Alexander's father predicted he wouldn't live beyond thirty. When that birthday came and went, Alexander realised he'd never planned for a future. He moved to Berlin to live the life he hadn't imagined.

00:56:38 - Shame as disease. Alexander rejects the idea of "good shame." He believes shame kills people, and the only antidote is self-love, however hokey that sounds.

01:06:08 - On the other side of nihilism is joy. Life has no meaning, and that's liberating. Black holes will swallow everything eventually. In the meantime, there's no reason not to enjoy it.

01:09:51 - Remembering Sean. Alexander recalls a gay couple in Atlanta who gave him a room for almost nothing. When one of them, Sean, died of cancer in his forties, the community came together. Sean was one of many gay elders who provided shelter when a lost young man needed it.

01:13:24 - The postcard. "There's no more important thing you'll do in life than love yourself."

Guest Bio

Alexander Cheves is an American writer and columnist for Out magazine, currently based in Berlin. His erotic memoir My Love Is a Beast: Confessions won the 2022 Jeff Maynes Non-fiction Prize. He writes about sex, identity, kink, and living with HIV with characteristic honesty. His second book is currently in progress.

Resources

Gay Men's Health Crisis (GMHC) -gmhc.org - New York-based HIV/AIDS service organisationThe Sero Project -seroproject.com - Network of people with HIV fighting stigma and criminalisationPrevention Access Campaign -preventionaccess.org - U=U (Undetectable = Untransmittable) information and advocacyTerrence Higgins Trust -tht.org.uk - UK's leading HIV and sexual health charityPositively UK -positivelyuk.org - Peer-led support for people living with HIVMy Love Is a Beast (Author’s Page):Unbound Edition PressAlexander Cheves’ Columns:Out Magazine - Sexy BeastGay’s The Word (UK LGBT+ Bookshop):https://www.gaystheword.co.ukHIV Criminalisation Information:HIV Justice Network


This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

In 1987, Chris Smith received an HIV diagnosis and was told he might have months to live. His doctor's advice? Learn to live with uncertainty. Thirty-eight years later, he's the Chancellor of Cambridge University.

This episode traces Chris's journey through the darkest years of the epidemic whilst serving in the heart of British politics. He recounts the moment he came out as gay at a Rugby rally in 1984, his hands shaking, only to receive a standing ovation twenty seconds into his speech. He describes navigating Section 28 debates whilst secretly managing Kaposi's sarcoma and the brutal side effects of alpha interferon. And he shares the unlikely deal he struck with the Sunday Times that eventually led to a phone call from Nelson Mandela.

Chris reflects on what it meant to carry a secret whilst holding public office, the transformation that combination therapy brought, and the friend he lost in the late 80s whose memory still stays with him. His closing message is characteristically direct: be yourself, be unafraid, and tell your story in your own way.

Timestamped Takeaways

00:02:23 - Coming out at Rugby, 1984. Chris describes the moment he decided, mid-rally, to publicly declare his sexuality. A thousand people stood and applauded before he'd finished his first sentence.

00:07:32 - Public attitudes shifted faster than politics. Chris observes that ordinary people coming out in their families, workplaces, and neighbourhoods drove change more than any politician or celebrity.

00:10:13 - The terror of early awareness. News of the virus filtered through from America. Government tombstone adverts amplified fear rather than understanding.

00:12:41 - "Learn to live with uncertainty." Chris's doctor delivered this advice in the days before AZT. It became a guiding principle for the next four decades.

00:15:14 - Section 28 and finding love. Amid vile parliamentary speeches, Chris spotted an attractive young man across a committee room. They ended up living together for 24 years.

00:17:56 - Kaposi's sarcoma arrives. The visible marker of AIDS in films like Philadelphia appeared on Chris's body, though thankfully not where the public could see.

00:19:07 - Alpha interferon hell. For a year, Chris oscillated between feeling like he had severe flu and feeling normal, all whilst maintaining a demanding public role.

00:22:01 - Combination therapy changes everything. Suddenly there was hope. Side effects disappeared. Viral loads became undetectable.

00:25:19 - The Sunday Times deal. A journalist discovered Chris's status. Rather than fight it, Chris negotiated: hold the story, and when he was ready, the paper would have the exclusive.

00:28:55 - Mandela calls. Two years after the deal, inspired by Mandela's speech at his son's funeral, Chris went public. The next morning, a note on his desk read: "Please ring Mr. Mandela."

00:35:07 - Living with uncertainty today. Combination therapy has transformed the nature of uncertainty, but no one yet knows what 38 years of living with HIV means for the decades ahead.

00:36:16 - Remembering a friend. Chris recalls visiting a friend in his final weeks, a man once full of the joys of existence, now shrivelled and gaunt. The shock of seeing him was greater than losing him.

00:37:36 - The postcard to the world. "Be yourself. Be unafraid, and tell your story in your own way."

Guest Bio

Lord Chris Smith was elected MP for Islington South and Finsbury in 1983. He became Britain's first MP to voluntarily come out as gay in 1984, the world's first openly gay cabinet minister in 1997, and the first UK MP to publicly disclose living with HIV in 2005. He is currently Chancellor of the University of Cambridge.

Resources

Terrence Higgins Trust -tht.org.uk - UK's leading HIV and sexual health charityNational AIDS Trust -nat.org.uk - Policy, campaigning, and supportPositively UK -positivelyuk.org - Peer-led support for people living with HIVHIV i-Base -i-base.info - Treatment information and advocacyThe Food Chain -foodchain.org.uk - Nutrition services for people living with HIV in LondonThe Food Chain (Patron: Chris Smith):https://www.foodchain.org.uk


This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

Ten episodes of brilliance from ten inspiring people living with HIV.

Episode 1 drops Friday 6 February, 2026.

Email: HIVTheMorningAfter@gmail.com

Links:

Other work from Producer Dan Hall.Positively UK - A peer-led organisation offering support and advice for people living with HIV, including women, youth, and migrants.The Love Tank - An organisation focusing on wellbeing of queer communities, especially Black and brown people, through projects like PrEPster and The Grass Is Always Grindr.Positive East - London-based support centre offering HIV testing, counselling, community outreach, and health services.PrEPster - Community-led PrEP (HIV prevention pill) education project. Offers clear and inclusive info for diverse audiences across the UK.National AIDS Trust - A UK policy and campaigning organisation dedicated to ending HIV stigma and promoting effective HIV policies.aidsmap - A trusted source for up-to-date, evidence-based information on HIV. Great for learning about treatment, living with HIV, and current research.Terrence Higgins Trust - The UK’s leading HIV and sexual health charity. Offers support, testing info, prevention resources (PrEP), and education materials.In the Key of Q - Podcast celebrating Queer musicians and their stories, also produced by Dan Hall.


This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

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Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

The lead commissioner of the London HIV Prevention Programme, diagnosed at 17 in 1986, who didn't know anyone with HIV who looked like him - and built the representation, the communities, and the change he desperately needed.

Summary

In 1986, Marc Thompson was 17, newly out, and discovering the gay scene in south London - not Soho, not Earl's Court, but the Prince of Wales pub in Brixton and house parties on council estates in Peckham. The central London venues were not welcoming to Black queer people. Racist door policies. You had to prove you were gay. And if you got past the door, you faced racist punters inside. So Marc's community made its own spaces.

HIV, as far as he knew, was a white man's thing. The news coverage showed older white men in the United States. The rules in his community were simple: don't sleep with Americans, and this doesn't affect us. No one talked about protection. The first safer sex information for UK gay men hadn't been produced yet. And even if it had, there was no route for it to reach a young Black man in Brixton whose social life didn't go through the pubs where leaflets were left.

In November 1986, he went to Westminster Hospital because his mates were doing it. Two weeks later, the results came back positive. The world stopped. Walking to meet a friend for lunch, two things kept reverberating: how was he going to tell his Windrush-generation Jamaican grandfather, and he would never have children. He descended into a deep depression. When he accessed services, he was the only Black gay man there, the only young person, the only one who hadn't been ill. He didn't know anyone who had HIV who looked like him.

Marc has spent over three decades building exactly what he needed and never had: representation, community, visibility for Black queer people in the HIV response. He co-founded The Love Tank, leads the London HIV Prevention Programme, and uses the phrase "bung down Babylon" with the ease of a man who means it. His dedication is not to an individual but to all the nameless Black gay men who died in the epidemic in isolation, fear, and shame - forgotten long ago.

Key Moments

[01:24] "Aren't they fucking on the graves of the people that died?" - the judgement of younger generations by older survivors, and why Marc pushes back against it[02:38] Brixton, 1986 - the Prince of Wales pub, house parties on council estates, and the spaces Black queer people created because central London wasn't safe for them[04:11] Racist door policies - having to prove you were gay to get into venues, and facing racist punters inside[06:42] "A white man's thing" - why HIV wasn't on the radar for a young Black gay man in south London, and the absence of any safer sex information that could reach him[09:10] Westminster Hospital, November 1986 - a test because his mates were doing it, and a result that stopped the world[10:23] The tunnel - walking to lunch with no sound, thinking only of his grandfather and the children he would never have[11:36] "I didn't know anyone who had HIV who looked like me" - the only Black gay man in support services, the only young person, and the weight of that isolation[52:08] Ageing without a plan - no pension, no financial stability, lost friends and lovers, and the fear of having to come out all over again to Maureen in the care home[54:36] The nameless Black gay men - alliums and calla lilies planted for every forgotten man who died in isolation, fear, and shame

Dedication

Marc does not name an individual. He plants alliums and calla lilies for all the nameless Black gay men in the UK and abroad who died in the epidemic alone, in fear, with shame, with no family around them - forgotten in the history because they were forgotten long before that.

About Marc Thompson

Marc Thompson is the lead commissioner of the London HIV Prevention Programme and one of the UK's most influential HIV activists. He was diagnosed at 17 in 1986 in Brixton. He co-founded The Love Tank and has spent over three decades building representation and community for Black queer people in the HIV response. His message to the world: be more love tank.

Resources

Terrence Higgins TrustNational AIDS TrustPrepster - HIV prevention for all communitiesThe Love Tank


This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

An Oxford graduate who fell in love at first sight in July 1985, was diagnosed with HIV weeks later, and drifted through accidental purpose into becoming one of the UK's most respected HIV educators - now remixing old cassette tapes.

Summary

Gus Cairns was 29 in July 1985: a bright but aimless Oxford graduate drifting through London's expanding gay scene. That month, he fell in love at first sight for the first and only time. The relationship with Paul was short and explosive. Paul had had a difficult childhood, a big drink problem, and enormous self-respect. He fought AIDS like a lion by insisting on being himself, almost up to the moment of death. The timing was just wrong. Gus's diagnosis came the same year.

What followed was a journey through devastating loss, near-death, and what Gus calls an extraordinary magical resurrection - combination therapy - that transformed him into one of the UK's most respected HIV educators and activists. He worked at Gay Switchboard, joined the European AIDS Treatment Group, and has spent decades explaining the science of HIV in language people can use. Recently, he co-wrote a leaflet on doxy-PEP with a Czech colleague, designed by a Turkish man and put online by a Greek one. Community, he notes, is still out there.

At 69, Gus is letting the activist energy slowly ebb. He's going back to the life he had before HIV: remixing old cassette tapes from his days trying to be a pop star. His boredom threshold remains terrifyingly low. His advice: survival is the best revenge, but surviving revenge is also important. You deserve some peace as well.

Key Moments

[00:02] "You can't moralise your way out of an epidemic" - the lesson from an incredible historical event that Gus wants to communicate to a later generation[02:06] July 1985 - falling in love at first sight for the first and only time, and a diagnosis that followed within months[36:25] Living with HIV in 2025 - not thinking about it much, slowly returning to pre-HIV interests, and remixing old cassette tapes[37:13] The power of accidental purpose - never driven by a career plan, drifting from one thing to another with a terrifyingly low boredom threshold[38:06] Doxy-PEP - co-writing a leaflet with a Czech colleague, designed by a Turkish man, put online by a Greek one, and the reminder that community is pan-European[39:31] Volunteering as a route to your tribe - Gay Switchboard as one of the best decisions of his life, and the advice to find your people through service[41:03] Paul - enormous self-respect, a difficult person, a lion who fought AIDS by insisting on being himself. His AIDS quilt panel would have needed to be twice as big as everyone else's, with several swearwords on it

Dedication

Gus remembers Paul, the man he fell in love with at first sight in July 1985 - difficult, traumatised, defiant, and doomed to die because the timing was just wrong. Paul's imagined AIDS quilt panel would have to invade everybody else's space, because that's what Paul was like.

About Gus Cairns

Gus Cairns is 69 and was diagnosed with HIV in 1985. He is one of the UK's most respected HIV educators and activists, and a member of the European AIDS Treatment Group. He is an Oxford graduate, a former Gay Switchboard volunteer, and a man who once tried to be a pop star. He now remixes old cassette tapes.

Resources

European AIDS Treatment GroupAidsmapTerrence Higgins TrustNational AIDS Trust


This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

An 83-year-old retired GP who treated patients and friends during the epidemic while quietly assuming he was positive himself, lost his partner Malcolm to HIV, and told him at the end: it's all right, love - you can go.

Summary

Peter Willis is 83, a retired GP who brings a dual perspective to HIV: doctor and patient, clinician and bereaved partner. During the height of the epidemic, he was treating patients and friends while living with the private assumption that he too was positive - long before his actual diagnosis confirmed it.

His partner Malcolm was a theatre director with his own company, an intensely critical scholar from a working class background, and the only person in his school ever to have taken an O-level. They were together for sixteen years. When Malcolm was dying of pleurisy, Peter lay in bed beside him. His two nephews - young men on their way to a ferry for a European holiday - drove down from Northampton in the middle of the night to stand silently by the bedside. Peter leaned in and whispered: it's all right, love. You can go. I'll be all right without you. Malcolm stopped trying to breathe.

The funeral was standing room only. The organist managed to play Somewhere on the oldest organ in London. As Peter walked past the churchwarden, she said: I've never heard anything so wonderful about love. He is very proud of that.

Three decades later, Peter lives with his Japanese partner. He has discovered pottery, navigates a handful of pills twice a day, and considers U=U one of the most wonderful developments in the history of the virus.

Key Moments

[00:01] "I've never heard anything so wonderful about love" - the churchwarden's words after Malcolm's funeral[02:02] Dual perspective - treating patients and friends during the epidemic while quietly assuming he was positive himself[17:50] Ageing with HIV - what the health and social care systems need to provide, and the reliance on people who do far more than they're rewarded for[19:43] U=U - an absolutely wonderful development that removed the fear from relationships[20:25] Malcolm - a theatre director, a scholar, intensely critical, who played Rothko while dying and whose students still won't take a job without wondering whether he'd approve[23:13] "You can go" - lying in bed with Malcolm, whispering permission to stop fighting, and the moment he stopped trying to breathe[24:13] The oldest organ in London - Somewhere played at the funeral, nephews who drove through the night, and standing room only

Dedication

Peter remembers Malcolm, his partner of sixteen years - a theatre director, a self-educated scholar, an intensely critical man who played Rothko while dying and whose last role was the one he was most proud of.

About Peter Willis

Peter Willis is an 83-year-old retired GP who treated patients and friends during the height of the HIV epidemic. He lost his partner Malcolm to HIV and has lived with the virus himself for decades. He now lives with his Japanese partner of nearly 30 years and has taken up pottery.

Resources

Terrence Higgins TrustNational AIDS Trust


This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

One of Britain's most enduring HIV and LGBTQ+ activists, who lived privately with HIV for years before becoming its most visible advocate.

Summary

Matthew Hodson has lived openly and, in his own words, shamelessly with HIV for over 27 years. His career in activism spans the pre-treatment era through to the age of U=U, and his core philosophy is simple: every time you take something that is used against you and make it into your own armour, it loses its power to hurt you.

Matthew worked as the first admin assistant and then project manager of the Positive Campaign Group at Gay Men Fighting AIDS, producing campaigns that encouraged openness about HIV status - while he himself had not yet gone public. A volunteer called James Quinlan was the one who stood in front of the camera: very handsome, very brash, drove like a maniac, and happy to be photographed in leather trousers and no shirt. James had made the decision that he wasn't going to hide. He died about sixteen years ago. His body had taken a beating from early drugs and the virus.

Matthew frames ageing with HIV as a privilege denied to many of his contemporaries from the 80s and 90s - people who never Googled anything, never went on Grindr, never knew a world where gay people could marry. He is sharply aware that global funding cuts mean people are dying in greater numbers this year than last.

Key Moments

[00:01] Armour from shame - turning what is used against you into protection, and the power of living shamelessly[02:10] Three decades of activism - from the height of the epidemic to the fight for LGBTQ+ rights, and the principle that what you do matters[38:42] The first openly HIV-positive chair - leading Gay Men Fighting AIDS in 2021, and why it took until then[38:47] The Denver Principles - nothing about us without us, established in 1983, and the Act Up protesters who stormed the Montreal Aids conference in 1989[40:12] HIV and the Covid vaccine - how HIV research enabled the rapid development of the Covid vaccine[40:19] Ageing as privilege - contemporaries who never Googled, never used Grindr, never saw gay marriage, because their lives were snuffed out[42:06] Funding cuts and rising deaths - Trump's cuts to USAID, UK budget reductions, and more people dying this year than last

Dedication

Matthew remembers James Quinlan, a Gay Men Fighting AIDS volunteer who was very handsome, drove like a maniac, and appeared on campaign posters in leather trousers with no shirt. James lived openly with HIV and died about sixteen years ago.

About Matthew Hodson

Matthew Hodson is one of the UK's most influential HIV and LGBTQ+ activists. He has lived with HIV for over 27 years and was the first openly HIV-positive chair of Gay Men Fighting AIDS. He is a writer, campaigner, and advocate for living shamelessly with HIV.

Resources

Terrence Higgins TrustAidsmapNational AIDS Trust


This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

A graphic designer who went from a back clinic to an AIDS diagnosis in 1995, was hospitalised with PCP at seven and a half stone, and watched 30,000 balloons released at Pride - each one representing someone who died - thinking: next year one of those is going to be me.

Summary

Tony Bird moved to London in 1990 and worked as a graphic designer in Soho. By autumn 1995, he had a cough his GP dismissed as nothing. He'd lost a huge amount of weight. At a back clinic, a doctor listened to his symptoms and said: I'm not the person to do this, but I think maybe you should have an HIV test. Three days later, Tony couldn't put his boots on. A gay GP neighbour called Julian came over, listened to his chest, and called an ambulance immediately. Princess Diana was on the television in the ambulance - the Panorama interview, three of us in this marriage. By admission, he was seven and a half stone. He was 28.

The doctors said: we think you've got PCP. Are you aware of the implications of that? Tony had seen And the Band Played On. He knew exactly what PCP was. He felt relief - finally someone was taking it seriously. A month in hospital, including intensive care, and then home to Brixton Hill by Christmas. But he had no confidence in the medication. The drugs targeted HIV at only one point in its reproduction cycle, and resistance came quickly. At Pride that year, they released 30,000 balloons, each representing someone who had died. Tony thought: next year one of those is going to be me.

Combination therapy arrived, and with it, a future he hadn't planned for. Today, Tony is happier than at any point in his life. He takes one pill a day, sees his consultant twice a year, and dances with a community that makes newcomers feel welcome. He is a gay man in his late fifties for whom HIV has very little daily effect - and that, after 1995, is its own kind of miracle.

Key Moments

[00:01] 30,000 balloons - each one representing someone who died of AIDS, released at Pride, and the thought: next year one is going to be me[03:11] The cough that wouldn't go - a GP who dismissed it, a back clinic that suggested an HIV test, and the walk from Soho to Oxford Circus that required sitting down on the pavement[04:34] Julian from next door - the gay GP neighbour who listened to Tony's chest and called an ambulance immediately[04:54] 20 November 1995 - admitted to hospital at seven and a half stone, down from ten, with Princess Diana on the ambulance TV[06:29] PCP and relief - told he had an AIDS-defining illness, and the strange comfort of finally knowing why[09:07] No confidence in the drugs - one class of medication, rapid resistance, and the certainty that treatment wouldn't keep him alive[09:37] "I'm not going to live until I'm 30" - one bleak night in hospital, telling his partner[38:47] 2025 - one pill a day, consultant twice a year, and very little daily effect. Happier now than at any point in his life

Dedication

Tony remembers those represented by the 30,000 balloons released at Pride - each one a person who died of AIDS.

About Anthony Bird

Anthony Bird is a graphic designer who was diagnosed with an AIDS-defining illness in November 1995 at the age of 28. He was hospitalised with PCP at seven and a half stone. He lives in London and describes himself as happier now than at any point in his life.

Resources

Terrence Higgins TrustNational AIDS TrustPositively UK


This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

A pioneering HIV advocate diagnosed in 1986 with a three-year-old daughter, who co-founded Positively Women - the UK's first peer-led support organisation for women living with HIV - and spent nearly four decades doing the work that mattered.

Summary

In 1986, Caroline Guinness was diagnosed with what was then called HTLV-III after a locum doctor performed a test without her permission. She'd had a relationship with a bisexual man in an open couple and felt an icy premonition, but told the doctor she did not want to know the result. He came to her flat anyway. He said: I know you didn't want to know, but I think you're too intelligent not to. She was positive. Her daughter was three.

Her first thought was her child. Her business partner screamed down the phone: I can't take another one - someone I love dying. Caroline felt a sheet of glass go down between her and the rest of the world. She was functioning but no longer part of it. She'd been working in music - management for The Who, music videos with big directors - and her career was thriving. The virus didn't care.

What followed was the creation of Positively Women, now Positively UK, one of the UK's first peer-led support organisations specifically for women with HIV. Caroline built it from the ground up, understanding that women needed to see themselves reflected in the response. She supported Ugandan refugees, sat with dying women in hospital, and once went out to buy a pineapple for a woman called Harriet who was homesick and wanted to taste one again. When she came back, Harriet was dead. That has stuck with her.

Key Moments

[02:30] 1986 - a locum doctor performs a test she didn't consent to, and comes to her flat with a result she didn't want[04:13] The icy feeling - knowing something was wrong after a relationship with a bisexual man, and telling the doctor she didn't want to know[06:14] A three-year-old daughter - the immediate fear of transmission, plasters on cut fingers, and knowing nothing about how the virus spread[07:11] "I can't take another one" - a business partner's screamed reaction, and the lesson that telling people you love will not go the way you expect[07:47] A sheet of glass - functioning but no longer part of the world, detachment as a form of survival[09:37] Tim and the gay ex-husband - the first husband who couldn't believe it wasn't him, who said "it should be me," and who was there when her daughter was born[44:14] Positively Women - co-founding the UK's first peer-led HIV support organisation for women, and the pride that still lives in her voice[45:22] The pineapple - buying a pineapple for Harriet, a Ugandan refugee with meningitis who was homesick for the taste of home. When Caroline came back, she was dead

Dedication

Caroline remembers Harriet, the Ugandan refugee with the love of pineapples, and Douglas (Ted) Lambert, an American actor who played Rothko while dying.

About Caroline Guinness

Caroline Guinness co-founded and led Positively Women, now Positively UK, one of the first peer-led support organisations for women living with HIV in the UK. She was diagnosed in 1986 with a three-year-old daughter. She previously worked in the music industry, managing bands and making music videos. She has been living with HIV for nearly four decades.

Resources

Positively UK (formerly Positively Women)Terrence Higgins TrustSophia Forum - for women living with HIVNational AIDS Trust


This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

A gay man from Liverpool diagnosed with HIV in 1993 at 23, who held suicide as a safety net for years before channelling his experience into a career as an NHS psychotherapist - and who inherited a cat called Ava.

Summary

Martin Fenerty was 23 and had been out as a gay man for only a couple of years when, in the summer of 1993, a cold sore erupted into an extreme facial herpes outbreak that covered his face and neck. His GP didn't question why. He went to the Seaman's Dispensary in Liverpool, a sexual health clinic favoured by gay men and sex workers for its open-mindedness, but the service transferred to the Royal Liverpool Hospital while his sample was at the laboratory. A health adviser turned up at his door at five o'clock on a long, rainy November evening.

For years, Martin held the idea of suicide as a safety net - if things get too difficult, at least I can end my own life. He kept it as a back pocket option while navigating the early antiretrovirals, the stigma of 1990s Liverpool, and a family that had already struggled with his sexuality. What pulled him through was a man called Mark Morrell Williams, the first person with HIV he ever met - introduced to him in a hospital bed, of all places. Mark ran Body Positive in Chester and lived openly with HIV in the 1990s. He became Martin's role model. Mark died in 1997, aged 39, just before combination therapy could have saved him.

Martin went on to build a career as a counsellor and psychotherapist, working in the NHS, the charitable sector, and LGBTQ+ and HIV services. He lives with his husband and a cat called Ava, inherited from a friend who passed away - sometimes referred to as the spiritual leader of the country.

Key Moments

[00:05] Suicide as a safety net - the idea of ending his own life held as a back pocket option for years[03:12] Liverpool, 1993 - diagnosed at 23, two years after coming out, with a family still adjusting to his sexuality[03:56] Facial herpes - an extreme outbreak that made socialising impossible and a GP who didn't ask why[06:05] The Seaman's Dispensary - a clinic for seafarers, favoured by gay men, transferring to the Royal Liverpool while his sample was in the lab[07:52] The rainy November doorstep - a health adviser arriving at five o'clock with results[39:05] Mark Morrell Williams - the first person with HIV Martin ever met, introduced in a hospital bed, a role model who died in 1997 at 39[42:18] Ava the cat - inherited from a friend, occasionally referred to as the spiritual leader of the country, and very much the centre of the home

Dedication

Martin remembers Mark Morrell Williams, who ran Body Positive in Chester, lived openly with HIV in the 1990s, and died in 1997 aged 39 - just before combination therapy arrived. Martin supported him through the last 18 months.

About Martin Fenerty

Martin Fenerty is a 55-year-old gay man from Liverpool, diagnosed with HIV in 1993 at 23. He works as a counsellor and psychotherapist in the NHS, the charitable sector, LGBTQ+ and HIV services, and private practice. He lives with his husband and a cat called Ava.

Resources

Sahir House - Liverpool HIV supportTerrence Higgins TrustNational AIDS Trust


This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

An HIV survivor and activist diagnosed in 1988 who held the hand of a dying lover, left London Weekend Television through ill health, and found emotional support in a Battersea rescue dog called Ron.

Summary

In 1988, Jim Vogiatzis was working at London Weekend Television and noticing that his partner was becoming frail with unexplained illnesses - illnesses that coincided with his own. He asked repeatedly. His partner could not bring himself to say. Jim went to James Pringle House, identified only by a number in a waiting room of twenty men giving each other knowing looks. The two-week wait was a nightmare. On the tube journey back, he rehearsed every scenario. The doctor said: I'm really sorry to tell you, but you're HIV positive. Jim left the clinic as fast as he could, walked outside for fresh air, then went straight back to work.

He had already watched friends die - stroking their hair, telling them they were loved - and he chose early to be in the fight rather than be a bystander. The early combination therapy pills required alarms set for the middle of the night: you never felt truly rested. The side effects have lasted decades - peripheral neuropathy, osteoporosis, and incontinence from PCP that has stopped him being in a relationship.

Jim held his lover Stuart as he died - ten days after a stroke that destroyed the active person he had been. One moment they were talking; the next, Stuart looked at him, and passed away. Today, Jim shares his flat with Ron, a Battersea rescue dog who pawed his arm through the bars of his pen and has given him focus and companionship in isolation.

Key Moments

[00:01] Midnight alarms - the early combination therapy regime: pills during the day, alarms in the night, and never feeling truly rested[02:42] The diagnosis - 1988, James Pringle House, identified by number, and a tube journey rehearsing every possible outcome[05:07] The mask at work - continuing at London Weekend Television, keeping up the smiling face while waiting for results[07:55] Holding hands with the dying - watching friends become frail, being there when they died, and seeing it as a privilege[24:41] Stuart - a warrior, an activist, a lover who was afraid to be loved but wanted to be loved[25:55] PCP, a stroke, and ten days - Stuart's rapid deterioration, the decision to die at home, and the moment he passed[29:10] The physical legacy - peripheral neuropathy, osteoporosis, incontinence, and the side effects that last a lifetime[34:10] Ron - a Battersea rescue dog who pawed Jim's arm through the bars and became his emotional support

Dedication

Jim remembers Stuart, a warrior, activist, and lover who left an indelible mark on his heart.

About Jim Vogiatzis

Jim Vogiatzis was diagnosed with HIV in 1988. He worked in media at London Weekend Television until ill health prevented him from continuing. He is an activist, fundraiser, and passionate advocate for human rights. He lives with his rescue dog Ron.

Resources

Terrence Higgins TrustPositively UKNational AIDS Trust


This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

A mother of four, Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts, and one of the UK's most influential HIV advocates - diagnosed in rural Louisiana in 1999 when an immigration doctor told her she had about seven years to live.

Summary

Susan Cole-Haley had recently married her second ex-husband - she collects them, she says, like shoes - and moved to rural Louisiana. The immigration HIV test didn't cross her mind. The doctor said: the good news is you don't have syphilis. The bad news is you're HIV positive. He gave her about seven years. Her children were five and seven. She didn't know anything about combination therapy. Back in the UK, her mother sent Aidsmap booklets across the Atlantic, and Susan realised the doctor was wrong.

Her own GP had previously refused to test her - oh no, dear, that doesn't affect ladies like you. When she told her father, his first words were: make sure you don't tell anyone. Years later, an oncologist treating her for triple negative breast cancer asked how she got HIV and circled HIV POSITIVE on her blood test notes. Susan changed hospitals.

She went on to work for Aidsmap and the UK Coalition of People Living with HIV, posed naked on a magazine cover while heavily pregnant to show that women with HIV could have children born free of the virus, and co-founded the Phoenix Health Movement to address health inequalities affecting Black women. Her son James now works for the National AIDS Trust.

Key Moments

[03:04] Rural Louisiana, January 1999 - an immigration test, no syphilis, and about seven years to live[04:27] Tombstones and icebergs - all she knew about HIV was the 1980s campaigns, and children aged five and seven[07:42] "Make sure you don't tell anyone" - her father's first words, rooted in Jamaican stigma and a desire to protect[08:50] The GP who refused - told it doesn't affect ladies like you, and warned it could stop her getting a mortgage[12:54] Triple negative breast cancer - a second diagnosis, an oncologist who circled HIV POSITIVE, and the decision to change hospitals[18:14] Telling the children - years of silence, and children whose only complaint was that she didn't tell them sooner[21:16] The naked magazine cover - four-inch heels, sheepskin, airbrushed cellulite, and a woman who saw the article and chose not to have a termination[24:04] Health inequalities and Black women - pain not believed, concerns dismissed, and a grandmother whose hospital notes read "why bother"[29:33] Phoenix Health Movement - co-founded with Dr Vanessa Appiah to address inequalities in healthcare for Black women[33:57] Seven years to a fellowship - from a death sentence in Louisiana to Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts

About Susan Cole-Haley

Susan Cole-Haley was diagnosed with HIV in January 1999 in Louisiana. She is a writer, broadcaster, Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts, and co-founder of the Phoenix Health Movement. She has four children, all HIV-free, a white German Shepherd, and a Romanian rescue dog. Her son James works for the National AIDS Trust.

Resources

Phoenix Health MovementPositively UKNational AIDS TrustAidsmap


This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

One of the UK's longest-surviving people with HIV, diagnosed in October 1982, on bathhouses in San Francisco, standing in the darkest corner of the bar, and why a man in crimson pantaloons saved his life.

Summary

In 1982, Jonathan Blake was a 33-year-old actor waiting tables at Joe Allen in Covent Garden. London was horny. He'd just come back from San Francisco and the steam baths. His lymph nodes swelled until he was walking like a gorilla. At the Middlesex Hospital, the cultures took a couple of days. When the results came back: you have a virus, there is no cure, you've got between two and nine months to live. But you can go home.

He felt like a modern-day leper. He would go to the bars in Earl's Court and stand in the darkest corner - wanting people but unable to engage. What was his opening line? Hello, my name is Jonathan, I have this killer virus coursing through my veins. He planned suicide: a hot bath, pills, razorblades. Then his mother's voice: Jonathan, you clear up your own mess. So like a nice Jewish boy, if you can't kill yourself, you better get on and live.

On 1 April 1983, he saw a tiny advert in Capital Gay for a coach to Greenham Common. It said: everybody welcome. As he turned to flee, a voice said: hello, my name is Nigel. Green Wellington boots, crimson pantaloons, a mop of black curly hair. Nigel brought banana and two jam doughnuts to tea and suggested they squat together in Brixton. Jonathan thought: I've got about two months to live. Why not? They were companions for almost 38 years. Jonathan refused AZT, refused the Concorde trial, and survived to combination therapy in 1996. The morning of the fourth week, he woke with such energy he laid a patio. It's still there.

Key Moments

[00:00] "You have a virus" - diagnosed at the Middlesex Hospital, two to nine months to live, but you can go home[04:33] San Francisco steam baths - Turkish baths, fuck rooms, and the year before everything changed[09:51] The darkest corner of the bar - wanting people but unable to speak, and the worst chat-up line in history[12:41] The Roman way - planning suicide, and a Jewish mother's voice pulling him back[14:50] 1 April 1983 - the tiny advert, the coach to Greenham Common, and the man in crimson pantaloons who gave him a life[22:43] English National Opera - a letter on a noticeboard thanking colleagues for supporting a man who'd died of AIDS, and thinking: when I get ill, they'll understand[26:56] Refusing AZT - the Concorde trial, the belief that never touching the drug is why he's still alive[33:14] The morning of the fourth week - combination therapy, the energy of Atlas, and a patio that's still there[41:30] U=U - the first unprotected sex since before 1982[45:07] Care homes and the closet - the biggest fear of ageing: I ain't going back in the closet

Dedication

Jonathan remembers George Hudson, met in the Coleherne in 1977, and Nigel Young, who gave him a life and died in 2022.

About Jonathan Blake

Jonathan Blake was diagnosed with HIV in October 1982 and is one of the UK's longest-term survivors. An actor, tailor, and activist, his role in Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners was depicted in the film Pride. He lives in south London with a contorted hazel tree he planted in 1989 - a tree injected with something that makes it grow differently, just like him.

Resources

Terrence Higgins TrustFood ChainNational AIDS Trust


This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Crowdfunder Link: RIO CALLING Fundraising Link

Ten episodes of love, loss and courage from ten inspiring people living with HIV.

Episode 1 drops Friday 19 September, 2025.

Email: HIVTheMorningAfter@gmail.com

Links:

Other work from Producer Dan Hall.Positively UK - A peer-led organisation offering support and advice for people living with HIV, including women, youth, and migrants.The Love Tank - An organisation focusing on wellbeing of queer communities, especially Black and brown people, through projects like PrEPster and The Grass Is Always Grindr.Positive East - London-based support centre offering HIV testing, counselling, community outreach, and health services.PrEPster - Community-led PrEP (HIV prevention pill) education project. Offers clear and inclusive info for diverse audiences across the UK.National AIDS Trust - A UK policy and campaigning organisation dedicated to ending HIV stigma and promoting effective HIV policies.aidsmap - A trusted source for up-to-date, evidence-based information on HIV. Great for learning about treatment, living with HIV, and current research.Terrence Higgins Trust - The UK’s leading HIV and sexual health charity. Offers support, testing info, prevention resources (PrEP), and education materials.In the Key of Q - Podcast celebrating Queer musicians and their stories, also produced by Dan Hall.


This podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis:

Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp