My name is Jonatas. I’m 32 years old. And I live with HIV.

I was almost 30 when I received my diagnosis July 7, 2022. That day will never leave me. At the time, I didn’t even know how to say the letters “HIV” out loud. I didn’t talk about it, I didn’t think about it. I had no idea what it really meant to live with HIV.

I wasn’t sick. I had no symptoms. Something inside me just told me to go get tested. And I went. And when I got the result… I froze. I didn’t understand what it meant. It felt like I disappeared. I thought: I’m no longer here. Not for my mother, not for my sister, not for my friends. It was like I had stopped existing. The fear took over.

To be honest, before I was diagnosed, I was a prejudiced person. I had judged people living with HIV. So when it happened to me, it hit even harder. Everything I once judged… was now about me. And that made the process of accepting myself incredibly painful.

But I wasn’t alone.

My family, including my mother, father, and sister, supported me. My boyfriend stood by me. And above all, I had my faith. I believe God gave me another chance. Not just to survive, but to live really live even with HIV. I opened my mind and my heart, and I realised I’m lucky. Because so many people, especially in the past, died without access to medication, to doctors, to care. They didn’t get this chance. I did.

When I started learning more, studying, researching, listening to people’s stories, I began to understand: I’m not dying. I’m not dangerous. I’m not dirty. I’m alive. I’m strong. And I can live a full, happy life.

I learned that I can be undetectable. That means I can’t transmit the virus. I learned about U=U, which stands for undetectable equals untransmittable. And it changed everything for me. I realised I could still have relationships, even children, without passing the virus on. I never knew that was possible.

So I started talking. I started sharing. I opened up on Instagram. On December 1st World AIDS Day just months after my diagnosis, I posted publicly. I showed my face. I told my story. And people responded with love. “You’re so brave.” “You’re courageous.” I heard those words over and over.

And I felt them. I was brave.

Because many people still live in silence. Many don’t have support like I did. And that’s why I speak up. That’s why I tell my story.

I’m not sure if I’m an activist. But I believe in visibility. I believe in education. When someone newly diagnosed comes to me, scared and lost, I want them to know: It’s not the end.

You can live. You will live.
You are not a danger. You are not your viral load.
You are worthy of love. Of joy. Of hope.

Today, I work with SUS in Brazil. I help promote health, and I speak openly about HIV. Because the real virus that kills now… is not HIV. It’s stigma. It’s ignorance. It’s silence.

So I speak. I live. I love. I take my medication. I am undetectable.
And I am alive fully, loudly, joyfully.

I was born to live. And that’s exactly what I’m doing.

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