Creating Hope
January 2006
Banner photo: Katsuhiro Fujino
Victoria's Story
I met Jonathan in 2001 in a support group where he taught us how to make memory boxes and memory books. I began visiting clinics with him, working with groups there.
Doing the box and the book helped me a lot. It's like writing your diary, sharing your story with someone--everything that happened to you. So I wrote about myself and my child and my family. At the time I was not coping well, I was suffering and alone, and my family knew nothing about my HIV status.
There's a lot of discrimination around HIV. People say that you're going to die, that you're a prostitute and that's why you got HIV--lots of things. I wanted to write my story so that my family could know what happened, and also my child, when he grows up. He is five.
When you talk about this, it helps you to feel free. You know that there are people who know what has happened in your life and who can give you support. You can go out and talk about it and that makes you feel strong. And other people also feel strong if they see somebody talking openly about their status, because they know about the discrimination. We want everybody to be strong, because if you lose hope, you are going to die. If you are strong, you tell yourself: I am going to live long. You feel free.
I did the box first. The first thing I put in it was a prayer book that my grandmother gave to me. The second thing I put in was a shoe, the left shoe of my son. He lost the other one when he was three months old. I keep it because he liked that shoe. I also put in other things my family had given to me.
I wrote on the box the date I was born, 11 September, 1968, and I wrote the year I was diagnosed, 2000, when I was pregnant. I wrote about my family; about my boyfriend. He ran away when I was three months pregnant. I wrote about my group because when I am with them, I feel very happy, because I know I can share everything with them and they can help me. And I wrote a message thanking Médecins Sans Frontières for providing treatment to people.
In 2003, I decided I was ready to tell my family. I took my memory book, and I left it with them so they could read what's going on and what's happened in my life. They read everything, and they accepted it. I wrote a lot of messages to them, because anything could happen to me, and I wanted them to be able to look after my child. Then they called me and said everything is OK. They gave me a lot of support.
Now I can go anywhere, I don't feel sad. I am free, and I am strong. I am Victoria, the Victoria I know.
