Positive Relationships
Sex, intimacy and forming loving relationships are some of the core experiences of life.
In this edition of Poslink, Steve Spencer writes about how we, as a community, can best support bi+ people living with HIV to find love and connection. Peer Navigator, Anth McCarthy imparts some of the knowledge our heterosexual community has developed about dating with HIV. Community member, Emma also shares her story of finding community as a single mother by choice. Our cover and stories feature the art, wit and wisdom of David McDiarmid.
Bisexual people exist, Miss thing
by Steve Spencer
A collective cheer could be seen across bi+ social media recently.
When the hit new queer TV drama, Heartstopper aired its final episodes, not only were the words, “bisexual people exist” said out loud – a common catch cry of bi+ advocates for decades – but the show’s protagonist, Nick also came out as bi to his mother. This moving scene unfolded after he had come to terms with his relationship with another boy.
For bi+ people this was one of the extremely rare moments in popular culture where bisexuality is treated with love and affirmation. Screenwriter and author of the original graphic novel series, Alice Oseman could have easily made this into a gay love story. Instead, bisexuality is not just visible but celebrated. It has been a revolution for the bi+ community to see this kind of visibility reflected on screen (bi+ being an inclusive umbrella term for multi-gender attraction bisexuality including pansexuality, omnisexuality, and more).
I came out as bisexual, after having lived openly as gay since my teens, four years ago. Only a couple of months before my HIV diagnosis.
I have always known that I am bisexual. I have had meaningful relationships with people from multiple genders my entire life – but due to pressures and discrimination within the LGBTIQ+ community it took me a long time to feel comfortable to come out.
I am now in a long-term open relationship with a gay man who embraces my bisexuality. He proudly corrects people whenever they refer to us collectively as ‘gay,’ much like in Heartstopper. He also embraces my HIV status. He is HIV negative, but he has taken on the role of ally and HIV educator to the point that when I met my in-laws for the first time, they understood U=U and viral loads like the back of their hands.
As people living with HIV, we know how important it is to connect with others like us. Community often means the difference between loneliness and happiness. Bi+ people live in a world that is dominated by spaces where we aren’t allowed to be our whole selves. We must be gay in gay spaces and straight in straight spaces, even though we are neither of those things. We are just 100% bi.
This struggle to find spaces that include us affects how we interact with HIV care and support services, too. We like to think that bi+ men are included everywhere the label says, ‘gay and bisexual men.’ But until you start talking about sex and disclosure with women in a room of gay men, you won’t understand how uncomfortable these spaces are for bi+ men.
There are of course spaces for heterosexual people living with HIV. Bi+ people often share as many common experiences with heterosexual people as we do with gay people. Which is why we scratch our heads when we’re included with one and not the other.
Bi+ men are forced to stay in the closet in any space that isn’t explicitly set up by and for us and our unique needs. So where are the bi+ spaces?
Or a question I ask myself regularly, where are the other bi+ people living with HIV?
I can tell you. We’re in plain sight, but until we’re made to feel safe, and we create spaces that embrace our uniqueness and pursue bi-visibility, bi+ people often won’t make themselves known.
I wouldn’t be the proud, confident young person living with HIV I am today without the many open and unashamed people living with HIV who acted as my role models. Visibility helps destigmatise HIV. The story was a bit different for my bisexuality. I had no idea what to expect coming out, especially alongside an HIV diagnosis. It is trial and error without proper guidance, probably to my detriment.
This brings me to today, where I find myself in a very different position to that period over three years ago.
I have re-entered the bi+ hook-up scene with the support of my partner. I am comfortable with my sexuality and my HIV status, but I can tell that the world around me isn’t. It’s been such an incredibly affirming experience as a bi+ person, but an incredibly stigmatising experience as a person living with HIV. My female, bi male, trans, and non-binary partners have nowhere near the level of HIV awareness as my gay male partners have, and I haven’t been given the correct tools to combat this. I knew that our policies may be letting down bi+ men, but I didn’t realise it was to this extent.
I can see that HIV awareness, whether it be about U=U or PrEP or even regular testing, just isn't reaching my community. The rejection I face regularly is hurtful, and it’s clear that few have bothered to think about the partners of bi+ men when it comes to HIV education.
As a positive community we know what it means to help people achieve their full potential. We are a community full of compassionate people and we embrace diversity and encourage growth and inclusion. We helped to invent the principle of meaningful involvement of affected communities, after all. If we faithfully apply these principles, our community could lead in bi+ visibility and we can ensure bi+ people living with HIV have the kind of support to be out and visible.
We can present bi+ men and all bi+ people living with HIV opportunities to flourish. Bi+ people very rarely kick up a fuss and we’re usually grateful to get what we’re given. Imagine what we could do to help this entire cohort if we actively encourage bi+ men to be their whole, proud selves. Not as an attachment to another community, not as a tick-box for inclusion, but treated as a wholly valid experience.
We will likely find all those bi+ men that opt to identify as gay or heterosexual in HIV spaces, and we will help those that have struggled in our current system. We will improve our quality of life. And like a rising tide, this lifts all boats.
Steve Spencer (he/him) is a Sydney based HIV and bi+ community advocate and NAPWHA board member.
Boldly embark on positive (hetero!) relationships
by Anth McCarthy
To be human, it seems, is to crave love and acceptance. As people living with HIV, don’t we know it.
At Living Positive Victoria, peers and peer navigators together wrestle the dilemma of how to share your HIV status with intimate partners daily. We bring people together in groups, and workshops like Phoenix and Positive Relationships, where participants can learn from each other and share their experiences of telling partners.
You could say that relationships are our bread and butter. We aim to share a fraction of that refined knowledge here.
Single heterosexual women and men often describe feeling like they can pursue relationships with other positive people only. Or a feeling of resignation towards seeking relationships at all. Is it understandable? Absolutely.
It has a lot to do with the stigmatising effects of HIV and how it can erode our overall sense of value and desirability.
If you notice yourself thinking along these lines, consider that relationships where two heterosexual people with HIV come together are relatively rare. There is a limited number of eligible, compatible single positive people.
Wait for the good news.
The frequency of sero-discordant relationships, where one partner has HIV and the other does not, are much more common. Perhaps even more so among heterosexual people. We have this affirmed over and over again, because positive people share their joy with us when they form relationships. We encourage you to try to remain open to all possibilities.
Are you ready for more good news?
HIV-negative partners often say that once they get up to (warp) speed, the significance of HIV fades. What really matters, they say, is the person’s good qualities and the many other factors that make them lovable and irresistible.
So, take a deep breath and boldly go where positive heterosexual people frequently find themselves – forming intimate, loving, sero-discordant relationships!
With vulnerability comes reward
HIV changes nothing about our inherent value and ‘love-able-ness’. Repeat it until you believe it.
Be aware that showing trust in your partner by sharing something personal and sensitive, can cause them to feel special. Sharing vulnerabilities can deepen bonding and prompt your partner to do the same.
For some people, however, HIV is simply a deal breaker. It's hard not to take rejection personally.
If it helps, you can look at rejection as a way to move past a relationship that was not going to last. Have they done you a favour by allowing you to move on toward a person who is going to be a better match for you?
Before or after sex?
It’s okay to feel reluctant about re-engaging with sex. You deserve all the time you need to reclaim that part of you. For some people, sex is unimportant. For others it’s a basic human need. We don’t need to deny ourselves.
For people on treatment with a suppressed viral load, U=U has significantly relaxed the need to inform sex partners. If you are undetectable or using another form of mutually agreed protection, do you need to tell?
We worry that informing partners will scare them off. Remember that not telling, or telling too late, can undermine trust. It may help to consider whether you see things developing into a more serious, long-term relationship when deciding if and when to share.
Remember, there are few rights or wrongs when it comes to sharing your status. What feels right for one person may not work for another.
How to say it
Practice what you will say and how you will say it. Allow for privacy and the option of more time together afterward.
The tone you adopt can influence how the news is received. If you reveal shame, there is risk your partner might feel shame on your behalf. The term disclosure can suggest a dark secret. Instead, think about using terms like sharing or telling.
Aim to appear calm, even if you need to fake it. Show that you are okay and there is nothing to be alarmed about. If you are not feeling self-assured and confident, pretend. As best you can.
Remember that people can act out of insecurities and traumas hidden to themselves. Equally, it may not be a big deal for them. It’s possible to be left feeling like they haven't appreciated the full significance of your act of trust. It’s hard, but try to listen without judgement how ever they react.
Know your stuff
Positive people have always done the heavy lifting when it comes to educating and dispelling myths. Intimate relationships are no different.
Be prepared to talk about U=U, UVL, PreP, PeP, CD4 counts, safe sex and other STIs. Be equipped with accurate written information in soft and hard copy.
Consider inviting your partner to your next doctor’s appointment. It may help both of you to have the information you provide confirmed by a medical professional.
Understand, too, that it might be important to your partner to do their own research independently of you and those perceived to be on you team.
There is support
Take opportunities to engage with peers of all genders and sexualities, to hear a variety of experiences and opinions. Make use of peer navigators for support and to discuss this topic.
Consider getting psychological support through professional counselling. You may be eligible for a mental health care plan through your GP. Being able to accept support is a strength.
Encourage your partner to discuss this new information with someone close to them, someone of their choice. Doing so, with your permission, might help your partner avoid spilling your information to others.
The final frontier
HIV is no more than a collection of protein-coated genetic code. It is not ‘smart’ or ‘intelligent.’ It simply behaves as a virus; replicating, mutating, evolving. Its ability to kill if left untreated has led to stigma. Now that almost all of us have long, full lives to look forward to we can think of stigma as the final frontier.
Some positive people view their status as a fact that is neither good nor bad. Some say it has been a force for growth and prompted them to improve other aspects of their lives. Wherever we find ourselves, my hope is that we remain curious, courageous and questioning of any personal HIV stigma that limits our potential for love, pleasure and intimacy.
Anth McCarthy (he/him) is a peer navigator at Living Positive Victoria and serves as a community advocate for HetMAN Australia, a national network for heterosexual men living with HIV. Keep an eye out for upcoming Phoenix and Positive Relationships workshops on our events page or reach out to a member of our peer support and health promotion teams if you have an questions.
Finding our own way
by Emma
I have known for a very long time I wanted to be a mum.
Unfortunately, I never just settled down with the right person to have that dream of marriage, mortgage and babies.
I was diagnosed with HIV five years ago. Dating in today's swipe society was hard enough before. I’ve tried multiple different ways of meeting and telling people. Most men have reacted horribly or simply said they would no longer like to see me. If I tell a guy straight up before meeting, I get blocked very quickly. In person, it has made me unsafe, even in public places.
The last time I met a new guy was on Tinder. We chatted for a few weeks. Surprisingly, we were on the same page on a lot of things in life. We decided to meet up, and even shared a kiss! We agreed to meet again.
We had not slept together yet, but there have been some conversations that would lead to intimacy soon. I decided to take the plunge over text. I tell him that I’m positive, on treatment and can’t pass it on. It does not go well. I’ve deceived him. I’m not the nice, normal girl he thought I was. I tell him that everything he knows about me is still true, but he won’t listen. Finally, he texts:
“I won't put myself in danger by being with you. You should tell people about this before they get feelings for you. We can no longer talk.”
I stopped dating after that. Since diagnosis, the only people I have been intimate with are people who I have been with before. I still had to give them the facts, but the conversation was easier. They know and see me as a person. So do my friends and family.
Some of the best support and understanding has come from the HIV community, which is a real blessing.
It has helped me feel normal. I don’t have something wrong with me. I’m not ‘dirty,’ and I can still be a sexy woman despite my HIV status. I could still be a mother, too, via IVF.
The positive community was also where I found my doner. Looking through the online profiles for donors helped me to realise that the anonymous process through the IVF clinic wasn’t for me. Thankfully, a friend I had made in the positive community had always wanted to be a sperm donor. We decided surely it shouldn’t and wouldn’t be a problem in this day and age of effective HIV treatments.
We faced some opposition in the healthcare system. My IVF specialist was super supportive, but the Infectious Disease pregnancy specialist and the Board at the IVF clinic were not.
It turns out there was an old section in the Therapeutics Goods Act 1989, which prohibited anyone who is HIV positive from donating any bodily tissue. This included reproductive tissue. I emailed the Victorian Government’s Health Minister asking them to find out what can be done to help me. I got some lovely emails back from a staffer, saying that she would look into it for me.
One day, I got the call I had been hoping for. I was on my way to my Positive Leadership Development Institute (PLDI) training. The Therapeutics Goods Act had been very recently updated, in January 2019. The changes meant that HIV positive people could now donate reproductive tissue. The minister’s office sent me the updates and I took the document straight to the IVF clinic.
My little girl was born in July last year. It took three years and three cycles of IVF, but finally she is here enjoying the cuddles of our positive community.
I am so happy that I took the pathway I did. My daughter brings me so much happiness, between the crying fits and tantrums. Watching her grow and explore the world around her is exciting.
Of course there are times I wish I had someone beside me to share it all with everyday. And maybe some day I will. I'm still not ready to date. The hurt is still very much present when I think about telling someone my status. As it turns out, I'm good at finding special communities and I have found another one in being a single mum by choice. For the moment, I am more than content in it being just us.
Emma (she/her) is a Living Positive Victoria member and director at Positive Women Victoria. This story was first published under the title A very joyful story of single motherhood via IVF as part of the Women And HIV: Tell The Story project
David McDiarmid (1952–1995) was a queer Australian artist, designer and activist. McDiarmid produced much of work in response to he and his community's experiences of AIDS, with work on posters for ACON cementing his legacy as an activist artist. For this edition of Poslink we asked our contributors to choose their favourite Rainbow Aphorism to accompany each piece. His work is currently on display at the National Gallery of Victoria's Queer exhibit, until August 21.
ISSN 1448-7764
Credits:
HIV, discrimination and grief threaten our community. Build our strength, stay together and support each other. David McDiarmid (1992). Image republished courtesy of the NGV and ACON 2022.