Tell me more about your story. What went through your mind when you were diagnosed?

I had an interesting time, because I found out I was HIV-positive within two months of moving to NYC in 2006. In a weird way, those two birthdays, as I call them, coincide. The year prior, I’d been on tour. I moved to NYC, got a day job, went to a health clinic, and the news came out of the blue.

I’d always been fairly consistent when it came to safer sex, and so it was very shocking. I remember walking around 8th Avenue, calling my friends. My friend Angelique knocked some sense into me. She was like, “You’re an idiot. With the exception of L.A., you’re in the place on earth with the most resources for people like you. Let’s make a bullet list of what you need to do.” My friend Jeffrey split a bottle of wine with me. He’s from an older generation of gay men from D.C., and it was through him and meeting his friends that I was connected to the Callen-Lorde Community Health Center, where I was sat down and told, 'OK, here’s what you need to do, here’s what people will tell you, here’s what you can keep, and here’s what you can throw away.'

Do you think things are getting better for people diagnosed with HIV?

I think it’s definitely getting better in the long run. Especially in the gay male community. I remember being on Manhunt back in the day where, you know, it would look like me and a guy were gonna bone, but when I told them I was HIV-positive and undetectable, they’d say, “Sorry, I can’t have sex with you.” Or I’d get blocked outright. Since the PrEP revolution, I find it’s very different now. I put it in my profile and it’s like, look, you can’t say I never told you.

Also I’ve met people online who will say they were just diagnosed last week, and it allows me to be that person my friend Jeffrey was for me and go, “OK, how are you feeling? Have you told anyone? Do you have a primary care provider?” It’s hard, especially when you’re young and begin to think about your life having an end date. To me, where we’re at now in Western HIV healthcare is, yes, it’s not the death sentence it used to be. It used to be about surviving. We used to survive AIDS. Now it’s about thriving and management, which is a tough job. It’s not the tragic stories of Angels in America or And the Band Played On. It’s the slow self-care over the next 30 years of your life.