My name is Alexandre Putti, and for years, fear was my constant companion. Growing up gay in Brazil, fear wasn’t just something I felt; it was embedded in every corner of my life. HIV was whispered about as a “gay cancer,” a secret shame no one dared speak aloud. That fear settled deep inside me, a cold weight beneath my skin. So I armoured myself with caution. For years, I never took off my shield, never had sex without a condom. Every six months, like clockwork, I trusted Brazil’s public health system, SUS, to give me the answer I craved: a negative result. And every time, I was relieved.
Then came 2019. The routine test, the moment I thought would pass as all the others. But this time, the news hit me like a storm: positive. In an instant, my world cracked open. How could this be? Even now, I don’t know. And honestly, it doesn’t matter anymore. What mattered then was the panic that swallowed me whole: “My life is over. I’m going to die.” I wept in despair, reaching out to a friend, trembling with the certainty of the end.
But SUS was a lifeline. From that day forward, I had access to the care I needed, including doctors, psychologists, and medication, all at no cost. Brazil’s public health response to HIV is a model the world should take notice of. Physically, I was untouched by symptoms, my body holding strong, my medications gentle. I had caught it early, and that early catch saved me.
Yet the harshest wound wasn’t from the virus itself; it was the weight of stigma. For years, I carried my diagnosis in silence, a secret that crushed my spirit. I felt tainted, broken, as though my illness was a moral failure. Fear gripped me tightly, fear of rejection by my conservative family, losing friends, losing my livelihood. I was trapped in a prison of silence, confined by a fear as suffocating as any disease.
But last year, something inside me broke free. I refused to live caged by fear any longer. With my heart pounding, I recorded a video and shared it with the world: “I’m Alexandre. I’m 33 years old. I live with HIV.”
The moment I hit ‘post,’ I felt a freedom I didn’t know I was missing. The crushing weight lifted. Yes, the trolls came, faceless strangers calling me a monster, a criminal, simply for existing and loving. But their venom didn’t wound me. It ignited a fire within. Being gay means being born to fight, and their hate only strengthened my resolve.
In reality, my life blossomed. Friends rallied, and work embraced me. But the deepest strength came from my mother. She cried, yes, but then she learned. She spoke with my ex-husband, a doctor, and uncovered the truth: HIV today is not a death sentence. Now, she stands beside me, an activist herself. She even uses PrEP to protect herself, a straight woman embracing knowledge and courage. Her journey fills me with hope.
Today, this fight defines me. I am the Communications Director at Fundo Positivo, a nonprofit organisation fighting stigma and spreading knowledge. I co-authored a booklet filled with truths on how to live well with HIV, how to care for your mental health, your nutrition, and how to face stigma head-on. We’ve distributed over 100,000 copies across Brazil, from sprawling cities to the remote Amazon villages like Oiapoque. Here, the real battle isn’t medicine; it’s information. Fear still keeps people from testing. Fear still costs lives.
I want the world to see me not as a victim, but as a living testament to resilience. I work. I travel. I love. I live. I am healthier now than I have ever been, because I care for myself. This is the new face of HIV: not death, not shame, but a manageable, chronic condition. Every day, I take two small pills, that’s it. That’s the truth.
My mission is clear: to share this truth, to inspire others to test, to dismantle fear, and to fight relentlessly until stigma is a thing of the past.
I am Alexandre Putti. I live with HIV, and I am here thriving, fighting, and telling my story.