HIV Is Not a Crime Awareness Day exists because people living with HIV refuse to accept a world where we could be punished simply for our diagnosis.

Founded by longtime activist Kamaria Laffrey, the day is both memorial and mobilization—honoring those who endured stigma and criminalization while demanding a future where dignity is not determined by geography. For years, Kamaria has partnered with organizations across the country, including Equality Federation and our state partners, helping build the capacity to responsibly challenge laws that still treat survival as suspicious.

Kamaria Laffrey reminds us:

“Modernization efforts succeed when they center those of us most impacted. Black queer leadership carries historical memory, cultural insight, and moral clarity born from lived experience. Because our struggles are intertwined, liberation must honor and center Black LGBTQ+ leadership. HIV criminalization disproportionately harms Black and LGBTQ+ communities, but when Black queer communities lead, we push beyond incremental change toward laws that honor the full humanity of people living with HIV.”

To mark the day this year, three Black LGBTQ+ leaders and executive directors whose state-based LGBTQ+ advocacy organizations successfully modernized or repealed HIV criminalization laws gathered for a candid conversation about what it actually takes to win—and why victory can still feel incomplete:

• André Wade, Silver State Equality (NV)
• Brielle Winslow-Majette, Garden State Equality (NJ)
• Phillip Westry, FreeState Justice (MD)

Their leadership represents a form of solidarity many people living with HIV never knew we needed—or deserved. I certainly didn’t when I learned my status 16 years ago.

“Joy…..but also Frustration”

When asked what HIV Is Not a Crime Awareness Day feels like after helping change laws that shaped lives for decades, André Wade did not begin with celebration.

“For me, it’s mixed emotions… joy in the sense that there’s recognition and people coming together… but also frustration that we need to have these days in the first place.”

Even after Nevada modernized its laws, he described a lingering unease:

“I’m incredibly grateful to have been able to move the needle… but there’s still this background noise of wishing we didn’t have to be in this position at all.”

Phillip Westry echoed that tension after Maryland’s historic repeal:

“It was hard for me to really celebrate the win… because I kept thinking—what about all the other states?”

In the DMV region alone, people living with HIV can experience dramatically different levels of HIV discrimination depending on which side of a state border we live on—sometimes literally which subway stop we exit.

Progress, in other words, is uneven. And uneven justice still hurts.

This tension—progress braided with grief, fueled by love for our people and refusal to let stigma erase us—became the emotional foundation of the conversation.

A Sitcom Scene That Reveals a Culture of Fear

Brielle framed the cultural weight of HIV stigma through a reference many Black households immediately recognize: an episode of Girlfriends.

A character living with HIV cuts her hand while cooking. Another insists the knife be thrown away, not simply cleaned, out of fear of transmission.

“It lets me know how far we’ve come,” Brielle said. “Because so many people for so long thought about it not just as a death sentence, but also social outcasting.”

The reference landed immediately with us. Phillip remembered the episode’s context—that the group of close friends had already believed themselves to be accepting until confronted with the reality of HIV in their own kitchen.

Today, he said, even people we normally trust may intellectually understand that HIV is manageable but still fail to grasp how race, income, access to care, and medication determine lived reality.

Progress exists, but it is incomplete.

Honoring Those Who Didn’t Make It & the Work No One Sees

Brielle pushed the conversation toward memory.

She spoke about the generations who lived—and died—under the weight of stigma before effective treatment existed.

“I try to think about… those who didn’t have the opportunity to live their life and not feel that way,” she said. “Those who have been forgotten should be put at the forefront.”

Every legislative victory sits atop years—often decades—of loss.

Behind the scenes were coalitions built slowly, relationships cultivated painstakingly, and enormous emotional labor.

Phillip described the challenge of ensuring people living with HIV could participate fully without personal sacrifice:

“We were constantly trying to figure out how to make sure folks living with HIV were fully involved and compensated… without additional sacrifice.”

In Maryland, one coalition member did not live to see the law pass. FreeState Justice honored him by naming the legislation the Carlton R. Smith Jr. HIV Modernization Act, embedding lived experience into the statute itself.

“Not everyone’s going to see all of the progress,” Phillip reflected while silently commemorating Carlton’s leadership.

Education Before Legislation

In New Jersey, Brielle said, one of the biggest challenges was simply educating lawmakers.

“Half of the individuals… have no idea what HIV even is. They don’t know the science… they don’t know what it means to be undetectable.”

Advocates had to explain not only legal harms but also the everyday realities of treatment, stigma, fear, and access.

Storytelling from those of us living with HIV was more than a strategy, but a moral compass for Garden State Equality that helped transform allies into impactful advocates.

“There’s a difference between reading something in a book and hearing someone’s lived experience.”

All three leaders emphasized that reform would not have been possible without centering the voices of impacted people.

“These are the folks who have the experience, the background, the knowledge… they can speak from their heart​​ about the impacts,” André added.

Modernizing HIV Laws is Racial Justice

André, Brielle, and Phillip made it clear that HIV criminalization cannot be separated from racial inequity.

In Maryland, Phillip said, conversations with Black legislators took on a different tone when framed as a racial justice issue.

“This is another way Black folks are criminalized,” he said, “which clarified some things for some [Black legislators], helping Maryland lawmakers see themselves and their families in fighting HIV stigma and criminalization.”

Similarly, Brielle remembered how Garden State Equality had to fight back against antiquated and stigmatizing thinking. 

“We had to show how HIV is not just a ‘gay issue’...how HIV impacts Black communities…including heterosexual Black men and especially Black women, making sure they understand how this is a human rights issue…that impacts their loved ones too.”

Similarly, in Nevada, André found that presenting data on the disproportionate impact on Black communities opened the door to dialogue.

“I was able to emphasize the impacts of HIV on Black people...and then guess what? Being able to paint that picture and name these realities as a Black man, talking to my Black people, garnered the support needed… when doing the work as an ally, as an advocate…I just knew this was something we were doing on behalf of my people,” he said passionately.

Advocacy Infrastructure as Power: Beyond Criminalization

None of us framed modernization as an endpoint.

For both Brielle and Phillip, changing the law created new pathways for broader public health progress—from increased testing to expanded access to prevention tools like PrEP and PEP, for example.

In New Jersey, Brielle noted that Garden State Equality’s most recent PrEP access win wouldn't have been possible without the advocacy infrastructure, relationships, and momentum built from their HIV modernization success.

“Our PrEP access bill was signed by Governor Murphy in January! A critical step in significantly reducing new HIV transmission rates in our state…”

Phillip eagerly agreed, “Don’t worry, Brielle, we’re right behind you fighting for PrEP access in Maryland thanks to the same coalition we built to repeal our criminalization law.” 

HIV modernization did not just provide criminal justice reform in these states; it built an advocacy infrastructure effective at passing real public health solutions.

A Message to People Living With HIV Everywhere

When asked what they would say to those of us living with HIV who still feel criminalized or alone, the conversation shifted entirely.

No policy talk. No strategy. Just sincere love.

André recalled a newly diagnosed friend who reluctantly attended a National Black HIV/AIDS Awareness Day dinner:

“He later shared that he was grateful he came because he found community—people he could connect with, people who made him feel less alone and depressed.”

“There are people out there for you,” André said, visibly emotional.

Brielle spoke about an older volunteer who survived the early epidemic and still shows up to share his story:

“You have a home [here]… we will hold you… We want to lift you up.”

Phillip offered perhaps the simplest message of all:

“If you don’t have a friend, I’m a friend… we can be the community until you find the folks that you need.”

He added that progress itself can be a form of hope:

“There’s actually a lot more love for folks living with HIV.”

As our conversation came to an end, I found myself speaking not as a representative of Equality Federation, but as someone whose life has been shaped by this virus and this movement. I confessed to Brielle, André, and Phillip with the honesty of the person I was when I first learned my status:

“I know it’s true because y’all have created community for me, so thank you. You make people know that we deserve to be alive too.”

Because for Black people living with HIV, survival has never been the full story—we have always been building life, family, culture, and movement in spite of systems that try to erase us.

Until every person living with HIV can live without fear of criminalization—and with the freedom to thrive—we will keep fighting. And as André, Brielle, and Phillip have shown us, we will keep loving our people into that future.