“I wasn’t having sex with the guys on the military base
because that would have put me out there and jeopardized my
being able to get an honorable discharge. I didn’t want this
because I had gone through too much to get there. So I would
go to the bath houses on my breaks and go buck wild. I think
that put me more at risk.”
Raymond Hayward, 55
Philadelphia, PA
Homosexual
intercourse is still
the leading cause
of HIV infection.
- U.S. Center for
Disease Control
and Prevention
I was diagnosed with HIV in September of 1982, and I am
now going on 29 years of living with the virus. I was
actually getting a physical done to go back into the
military reserves. They sent me a letter saying that they
could not accept me because of irregularities in my blood.
They told me to seek medical help, and that was it.
I also developed a form of skin cancer – Kaposi Sarcoma.
It is one of the opportunistic infections of HIV. I had the
dark blotches on my legs and arms. I thought that it was
from hitting myself when I was high and things like that,
but I was wrong. I am still getting chemotherapy for this
condition today.
Originally, when I was over in Germany while in the
service, they had bath houses – different rooms where
people would go and have sex. I wasn’t having sex with
the guys on the military base because that would have put
me out there and jeopardized my being able to get an
honorable discharge. I didn’t want this because I had
gone through too much to get to where I was. So I would
go to the bath houses on my breaks and go buck wild. I
think that put me more at risk.
During this time, my mother and I lived together. It
wasn’t until 2000 when I told her about my diagnosis,
though. I have a brother who lived in Lancaster, and I
told him shortly after I found out. It was strange because
he was always looking at me because, at the time you
know, people were starting to look older and as if they
were wasting away. Fortunately those things weren’t
happening to me, but my condition wasn’t talked about in
my family. I associated that with the experience of having
a loss in your family. You go through the stages of denial,
anger, and acceptance. I became very angry to the
point where I would just lash out at anybody. It
got to the point where my mother was like, “I didn’t give
you HIV! Why are you doing this to me?” That’s when I
realized that I had to accept it and take whatever means
necessary to get my life on the right track.
At that time, HIV was pretty much just affecting White,
gay males, so I was confused by my diagnosis and
also in a state of denial. From there, I had heard
about a place on Broad Street, where they did the actual
HIV testing at the time. I went there, and they drew
blood. At that time, it took almost a month before you got
results, so I just had to wait. Weeks later, my mom or
someone told me that I had a call from “We the People.”
At that time, it wasn’t like it is now – being able to get
directly linked into case management or any kind of care,
so I pretty much did nothing about it. I still just thought
that it was a White, gay man’s disease. I wasn’t having sex
with White people, so I didn’t think that it affected me.
The turning point was when I developed Thrush, which is
a coding that can go as far down as the esophagus. I did
go see about that, and I was told that this was one of the
symptoms of having HIV.
I was depressed for one. I felt alone. I still didn’t
understand. At that time, the White, Gay men here in
the city were saying that they needed medications and
care. However, by me being an African American, I felt
that their struggle didn’t apply to me.
It took me at least 10 years to become proactive
about my diagnosis because, after I came to
understand that something was wrong with me,
I felt that I was going to die anyway. Initially, I
was like playing Russian Roulette – having unprotected
sex, drugging, and drinking. Of course you compromise
your value when you do things like this, but I didn’t care.
I felt like all hope was lost. I wasn’t really careful.
A pivotal point was at age 34, when Crack was in full
swing. I thought, Oh well, I might as well do it, I am going
to die anyway. But after waking up day after day and still
being miserable, I figured, God is trying to tell me
something, and I need to do something about it because I
wasn’t killing myself. It wasn’t like I was cutting my veins,
but I was trying to take myself out, and medicating myself
to become desensitized. I started seeking out support
groups and other people who were positive to see what
they were doing and how they were dealing with the
diagnosis. It was extremely helpful. It gave me hope.
services, and I also felt disappointed because it seemed
like we weren’t getting our share of the pie as Black
people. This is the only black agency that I really knew
about, and resources were limited.
I wanted to be proactive about the epidemic, but most
African-American men seemed more apathetic. Concerns
were limited because I think that, as a people, we aren’t
always focused on lifting each other up. It’s like we are
crabs pulling each other down before we get any higher.
So I became involved with Caucasian males, who were
campaigning for help, but I sat apart from them because I
didn’t feel any type of bonding taking place. I felt like an
outsider because of our racial differences.
When I came here though, I saw people like me – my skin
color, young men, and even women. It was encouraging
because, like me, they didn’t know what to do, but they
wanted to do something. Places like this are important for
more than case management because there are
physical and emotional stages that come with a
diagnosis. You are able to talk to someone who is like
you, and you are able to talk about shared experiences
and communicate on the same level.
I think that, because of socioeconomic issues that aren’t
dealt with surrounding our people in general, we suffer as
a community. Sometimes, for us, it seems as though there
is no other way out. So, when it comes to things like
prostitution, it is an example of how desperate we feel
because circumstances like unemployment lead people to
have sex for money. This puts us at a high risk for HIV/
AIDS and other diseases. When we realize that there
are larger issues behind the epidemic and do
something about it, it will make a huge
difference.
I had a case manager at BEBASHI who told me to put
$2.00 away for every time that I had an urge to use drugs.
At first I could only do it once or twice, but I finally stuck
to it. In a month’s time I had about $50.00. It was nice to
feel supported by someone who, even though she was
younger than me, had so much knowledge, and who really cared. She offered me different strategies to help me
overcome certain obstacles in my life ( i.e. drug use, self
value, etc.). I felt endowed to BEBASHI. She had a real
concern. When it is someone of your own nationality, it
has a better impact. You are not just a number coming in
for treatment.
Despite my efforts, I haven’t had any intimate or sexual
relationships since my diagnosis. It appeared to me that,
when I was honest and told someone about my condition,
they were accepting and encouraging – saying that we
would practice safe sex. But then they wouldn’t call me.
When I would see them on the street, they would act like
they didn’t know me. It made me feel like a leaper. It
just made me that much more interested in knowing what
was going on and how to make my quality of life that
much better.
I’ve been with BEBASHI for a little over 5 years now. At
first, I was intimidated by being there and needing
In terms of treatment, the medications actually made me
anemic at first. I was really taken through a loop. I was
followed my regiment, and yet I became sick. I didn’t
want to do anything. The care provider did warn me that
there may be side effects and encouraged me to let her
know of any. That hindsight allowed me to speak for
myself, instead of simply saying, “Okay, you’re right!” I
could look at myself and see what wasn’t right.
Also, with the aging process, my body is changing. I have
high cholesterol now and borderline high blood pressure
– the sort of things that come with aging. But, with me
Of new HIV cases
in the city of Philadelphia,
1/3 are among
men who have
sex with men.
- The Philadelphia
Inquirer
Approximately
25% of
HIV-infected
individuals living
in Philadelphia
are unaware of
their positive status.
- The Public Report
having the desire to live tomorrow, I hope that I am
making a difference by taking the medicine, and that is
what makes me adhere to my given regiment. It is
important that people get out there and say, “Hey, look at
me! I’m doing it,,” because a lot of times, if we don’t see
people like us, who have gone through what we
have gone through, we don’t relate. For me,
tomorrow is another day, and it opens new challenges
and avenues. If I am worried about something today,
instead of thinking, Oh, I am so upset - let me get high, I
just believe that maybe I can approach it differently
tomorrow.
Philadelphia has a large pregnant/parenting teenage population, which represents the fact that safe sex and condoms aren’t being used as much as they should be. These
are my brothers and sisters. I feel like, if they see
someone who has living to the virus, they will
understand the consequences of their actions.
Hopefully I would be able to share my war stories about
how being promiscuous and thinking that I had to sleep
with everybody was only for a few minutes, but yet the
consequences are life long choices. And, if they
understand that I am long-term survivor, they will also
see that a diagnosis is not a death sentence and
that you can still live and be productive.
As far as injection drug use, we are fortunate enough to
have needle exchanges now. A lot of people fought for
many years to have that take place. Because addiction
and coming to grips with your addiction is so paramount,
if you are going to do it, at least you have access to proper
needle exchange. We would want people not to do it at
all, but sometimes we fall back to what we are familiar
with. We try to medicate ourselves and forget
about our problems. This is where being involved
with drugs wears your system down.
I am more aware of my health. I am more in tuned with
my body. I ask questions. I don’t just take what medical
doctors give me. I question them. I want to know what
the results mean and what more I can do to make my life
better.
I want people to see my little light shining – my small
contributions. My mother died in December. She was a
laundry mat attendant. The first week after she died, I
could go into her room and get things out, and then for
months I couldn’t. Last night, I went into her room for
the first time in a long time to get rid of some of her
clothes and things, and I remembered that BEBASHI has
a food bank. I figured that her old plastic bags could be
used for people’s food, and so I brought them in today.
Therefore her spirit is living through that giving act. I just
want people to be impacted in a positive way by my small
gestures like that one. I also want people to know that an
HIV/AIDS diagnosis it is not a death sentence.
Jesus went in among the lepers, so we are to
embrace our brothers and sisters and their
infirmities and help out where we can.
Raymond continues to receive case
management services and attend support
group meetings at BEBASHI. He is also
actively involved in the fight against HIV/
AIDS. He is vocal about the need for people to
become more concerned and proactive in
advocating for change. Raymond has set a
wonderful example of perseverance in the face
of both physical and emotional obstacles,
and BEBASHI has been glad to support him
along the way.