February 2026 CHPC Newsletter

Prevention and treatment for people with HIV should not be done in a vacuum. Every aspect of that person's life can have a positive or negative outcome on living a long healthy life with HIV. I have found this to be evident in my journey to living a long, healthier and prosperous life with HIV. This article is about just one of those momentous moments that has inspired me.

We made one of the best hires twelve years ago by hiring Angel H Ruiz at the CT Children's/UCONN Health Youth and Family Community Health program. I knew that we were getting a highly committed soldier in the fight against HIV, Hep C, STI, substance use disorders etc. in the communities we serve. What I didn't know is what he would mean to my health and wellbeing.

A year after Angel was hired, he came to me and said that he was going to quit smoking because he wanted to ride a motorcycle like me. He needed to save the money to purchase a motorcycle. He was able to save and buy his motorcycle (named Negrita) in only 10 months after quitting because he was a chain smoker and was spending about $400 a month on cigarettes.

During this time, I too had been a smoker for 42 years. I had attempted to quit but had failed until I witnessed Angel's journey. So, he, in turn, inspired me to quit smoking. I am 9 ½ years nicotine-free today. I'm always reminded of how God's universe works when I pull up to work and park my motorcycle (named Betty White) next to his …… Nicotine-free!

In December of 1966, when I was just 18 months old, I became the center of a tug-of-war between a desperate 20-year-old father and a 19-year-old mother struggling with addiction. My father won that battle, and I grew up with him and my newborn sister. I had no memory of the event, only the lifelong imprint of abandonment and a deep loyalty to the father who fought for me.

Years later, an article revealed a name I had never heard before—a woman arrested for check fraud, bearing my father's last name. When I confronted him, he finally told me the truth: I had a mother, her name was Cathy, and she was a drug-addicted sex worker. Already experimenting with pills myself, I became determined to find her and uncover my roots.

I found my mother in 1978, at the age of 13. She was an addict—just like me. Our relationship was complicated, chaotic, and painful, but it was real. We had ten years together before the virus took her life on December 9, 1988.

In those years, something beautiful happened. My mother found recovery. We began attending 12-step meetings together. During the late 1980s, when HIV carried enormous stigma and fear, the recovery community became her lifeline. There were few treatment options then—AZT was available only through limited programs—and many NA members were dying weekly. Yet despite her own diagnosis, my mother chose courage. She found purpose in service, linking with local churches and HIV advocates to hand out pins, encourage testing, and reach out to women still working the streets.

Together, we joined others in creating one of Connecticut's first HIV-focused NA specialty meetings in 1987. My mother dreamed of a candlelight meeting to honor those who died clean. I knew it was only a matter of time before I would be lighting a candle for her.

When she died—alone in her apartment, exhausted spiritually and physically—I walked in behind the police and heard, as clearly as if whispered from above: "Job well done, my faithful servant." For years, I told people she died of cancer. I thought hiding the truth protected her legacy. But recovery taught me something far more powerful.

And she didn't fight alone. She survived as long as she did because a community wrapped around her—HIV advocates, NA members, sponsors, friends, and everyday people who refused to let stigma have the final word. Their support allowed her to live with dignity, purpose, and love.

Her journey became the foundation of my own recovery. She made me promise to stay clean, to break the generational cycle of addiction, and to turn pain into purpose. Today, I keep that promise one day at a time. I see the results in my children and grandchildren, who are growing up free from the chains that bound the generations before them.

My mother's life taught me this: Support saves lives. Connection heals wounds. Community is medicine.

Her story didn't end in 1988. It continues through me—through my recovery, my service, my truth, and my hope for those still fighting. And with every act of compassion, every hand extended, every stigma challenged, her legacy lives on.

Knowing one's HIV status is the critical first step in HIV prevention. Early HIV detection is essential to the Ending the HIV Epidemic in the U.S. initiative, which aims to reduce new HIV infections by 90% by 2030. To support this goal, Connecticut implemented standardized routine opt-out HIV screening in primary care and emergency care settings. This approach not only increases the likelihood of diagnosing HIV earlier and linking individuals to care sooner, but it also helps normalize testing and reduce stigma.

However, routine screening in healthcare environments reaches only those who interact with the medical system. Many individuals—especially those facing housing instability and homelessness, discrimination, or other systemic barriers—never enter healthcare settings at all. This is where community-based organizations (CBOs) play a crucial role.

CBOs bring HIV testing directly to the people who need it most. Through mobile testing units, street outreach, and partnerships with shelters, harm reduction programs, and community centers, these organizations reach individuals who might otherwise fall through the cracks. They meet people where they are—both geographically and in terms of readiness—offering not just a test, but a connection to care and support.

Organizations such as the CT Harm Reduction Alliance work to expand access to rapid-result HIV testing within our most vulnerable and at-risk populations. These agencies meet people where they are, providing testing services in community spaces, shelters, encampments, and other environments where traditional healthcare is often inaccessible or unwelcoming.

For individuals who test negative, CBOs offer vital education on HIV prevention—providing information on safer sex practices, PrEP/PEP, harm reduction strategies, and other tools that empower people to make informed decisions about their sexual and overall health well-being. This combination of screening, linkage to care, and prevention education strengthens community health overall.

The combination of routine screening in healthcare settings and targeted outreach through CBOs creates a comprehensive approach to HIV diagnosis. Both strategies are essential: one normalizes testing within the medical system, while the other ensures that no one is left behind.