HIV and AIDS - My Story of Survival
- Evan Michael McIntyre
- 2 days ago
- 5 min read
Dedicated to all the survivors out there:
By Evan
In 1989, when I was just 19, my life changed forever. I was with an older boy, drunk and vulnerable. I didn’t want to have full-on sex. I said no—three times. But he overpowered me. He introduced me to poppers, and I briefly lost consciousness. It was against my will. Afterwards, I used his bathroom and noticed I was bleeding. I was overcome with fear and realized something terrible had just happened. In the back of my head I knew I had just gotten HIV. I prayed and asked God for help and forgiveness. These are the times when we finally pray. I blamed myself for years, thinking I was weak. A pushover. It took 20 years and the words of a compassionate therapist for me to finally understand: I was raped. Recently a kind professor who I trusted to tell this story to said, "It was not your fault Evan." Somehow though, I still feel it was my fault..."why was I such a push-over? Why wasn't I strong enough to stop him? This ruined much of my life. How could I have been so stupid?"
At the time, I had a girlfriend. I didn’t identify as gay—maybe I was just unsure. But in 1980s Idaho, if you had HIV, people didn’t ask questions. They assumed you were gay and that it was somehow your fault. I was diagnosed with HIV shortly after, and thank God, my girlfriend tested negative. I broke up with her so she could live a full, healthy life.
I watited 3 months before telling my family. My mom noticed I had stopped smiling, joking around, and laughing. When I told my parents, my mother broke down sobbing. My father, shocked and scared, asked about my T-cell count. It was low. Back then, HIV was a death sentence. And when I was diagnosed with full-blown AIDS in the mid-90s, I truly thought my time was up.
But I kept working. I stayed behind the DJ booth at clubs and radio stations, immersing myself in music and creativity. That might have saved me. So many others gave up, believing death was inevitable. That is the REAL reason so many died. And of course many just died of broken hearts and despair - ostracized and shunned by family and society - especially fantical religious zealots. I remember they even burned down Ryan White's home...a child who got AIDS from a blood transfusion. Many people with AIDS decided to give up and just die...But, I chose to fight. I chose life.
In 1996, my tcell count was below 100. I had full-flown AIDS. But, everything changed. My sister called me with incredible news: a new drug was showing promise. I got on the early trials of that drug with the help of a good doctor. And for the first time, I had hope. I had a future.
Today, my viral load is undetectable - a reality many people unfamiliar with HIV still don’t realize is possible. In fact, I haven’t had any detectable virus in my body since the late ’90s. I’ve lived more than 35 years beyond what I once thought was possible. AIDS didn’t defeat me. I survived. I healed. And now, I live with purpose."
There’s still stigma. Still discrimination. Believe me, I have had my share of discrimination, ridicule, and scorn. And with today’s political climate—where hatred is rising and LGBTQ+ communities, especially our transgender siblings, are under attack—it’s more important than ever to speak up.
Coming out about my HIV status is my act of defiance. My act of pride. I’ve never liked labels—gay, straight, whatever. As Joan Jett once said, “No labels.” That’s how I feel.
A friend once told me she “hates the sin but loves the sinner.” I smiled quietly, thinking, “That sounds more like judgement than love and who made her the judge?” She calls herself a Christian, but forgets what Jesus actually stood for. He didn’t cast stones. He told others not to either. “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone" and "Judge not lest ye be judged." We’re all imperfect—each of us has our flaws. So who are we to judge one another? You’re no less than anyone, and no one is more than you.
For years, I thought I was to blame. I thought I was weak. But I’ve come to see that surviving something traumatic is not weakness—it’s courage. I made it through, not alone, but with the love of friends, family, and two wonderful parents.
One night, not long after I was diagnosed, I looked up at the stars in the Idaho sky. The stars were so bright, so endless. And I felt God speak to me. I heard: “Hold on. A cure is coming. Don’t give up.” And I didn’t.
We all face hardship. All of us carry pain. Some now, some later. But I believe my story can help others. Maybe it helps you. Maybe you were meant to read this.
My family’s motto is Per Ardua—“Through Difficulty.” And through difficulty, I’ve found strength. I’ve found grace. I’ve found meaning and finally a purpose.
If you’re struggling: please know this—You are not weak.You are not broken. You are not damaged goods. You are a survivor.
Past mistakes don’t define you. They are lessons, not life sentences. You can rise. You can shine. Just be kind—to yourself and to others. You never know what someone is going through. Even just a single smile from a stranger saved me from committing suicide in my darkest moment. Your smile or a kind word could save a life. Love is powerful. Healing. Transformative. As Gandhi said, “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” In a time of division, choose love. Choose peace. Join the quiet revolution of compassion.
Taking care of myself is a full-time job, but if I can bring light to someone’s day—if I can make one person feel seen, heard, or hopeful—then that’s worth more than gold to me. People are always offering me kind words too. I got in a discussion about religion with an Uber driver recently. I told him that I am a sinner. He told me, "God loves you. You are going to be alright. You are going to heaven Evan." It was the best, most loving short sermon I had ever heard from someone.
I was supposed to die in the 80s. But here I am. Every day is a bonus. Yes, year after year with no detectable virus—I truly believe I’m cured. That said, I still rely on medication, and I won’t forget how harsh and toxic those early treatments once were. I do have many battle scars but I am alive. I survived a plague. Grateful. and yes...I'm still dancing.
Peace and love,
Evan
"There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for," Samwise Gamgee to Frodo, - from the Lord of the Rings
Love conquers all.
"For every dark night, there's a brighter day." - Tupac Shakur
John 14:27 – “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you... Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”
Hiv.gov : HIV and AIDS resources
rmnetwork.org - LGBT Friendly Churches - Lists by Country or State
"We are here to listen": 988 - Call or text 24/7 Feeling Suicidal?
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