Positive Thoughts: I’m an HIV-Positive Gay Man Committed to Racial Justice

The day the universe decided it wanted to see sugar, spice and everything nice, it was June 10, 1991 – the day I was born. Even as a child, I was always talkative and quite the jokester. Winning "Loudest," "Class Clown," and "Most Likely to Work for The New York Times" my senior year of high school proved not only that I could make anyone laugh, but that my banter always led to greater conversation.
Taboo topics have always been my favorite conversation-starters. Whenever the topic of HIV/AIDS came up, I was the smartest man alive. "Only crackheads, hookers and people who shoot up get HIV," and "You can tell who got that shit because they look sick," were two sentences I remember proudly stating. That wasn't the same energy I had when I was diagnosed with HIV on Dec. 19, 2012.
I was the average 21-year-old white gay man. Living it up, partying every weekend, experimenting with drugs, and of course having plenty of sex. Man, I knew the pathway to my walk of shame backwards and with my eyes closed, strutting every step of the way while my hips said, "Yes ma'am," with every sway.
I became an advocate for HIV awareness after living with the virus for two years. Stigma led me to my reactive test, and stigma caused me to bury a friend...