These days, our busy, digital lives leave us obsessed with what’s in front of us, and often ill equipped to reflect on what is larger than us. H.I.V. and AIDS advocacy forces us to think big: to consider the progress we have made — as a movement, and as a society — in a very short time.
Just a few decades ago, I saw people living with AIDS taken to hospitals in wheelbarrows because they could not walk. Today, science has made possible treatments that give people with H.I.V. the opportunity to live lives as long, full and healthy as their peers.
But for too many people around the world, those benefits are still out of reach. Even in places where treatment is available, the stigma that persists around H.I.V. — along with the shame imposed by homophobia — contributes to new infections and keeps people from seeking treatment even when they know they need it. Our work as advocates is to help end that hopeless feeling of invisibility.
Visibility, after all, is power. My organization, the Elton John AIDS Foundation, asked the photographer Robin Hammond to take his camera to countries like Kenya and Ghana, where homosexuality is illegal, and to Mozambique, where it is widely condemned, as part of his “ Where Love Is Illegal ” project. By depicting local advocates and by sharing their stories, these images and narratives show that those affected by this epidemic are not evil. In fact, they’re not really any different from anyone else.
As an artist, I know that a single photograph can tell a greater truth than a pile of statistics, and there is profound humanity in giving individuals at the margins the opportunity to step into the light. Robin’s images tell the story of struggle and survival, of resilience and empathy, of discrimination and the hard work and advocacy needed to overcome it. These images show us people who seek only to live honestly, openly, with dignity and without fear.
The good news is that in each of these places — and everywhere around the world — local activists, advocates and everyday heroes are working to build better, healthier and more inclusive societies. Their efforts, supported by grants from organizations like mine, are making a real difference.
In Kenya, L.G.B.T. people fleeing Uganda, Somalia and South Sudan arrived in the Kakuma refugee camp only to find that they faced poverty and prejudice there as well. With the help of a grant, however, they now have access to safe housing, food and H.I.V. testing and treatment at the camp. In fact, Kakuma just observed its first Pride celebration.
In Mozambique, H.I.V. is prevalent among gay men, but because of stigma, many don’t have access to care. New hope comes in the form of a program that will test thousands for H.I.V., as well as train L.G.B.T. people to test their peers confidentially and in their own homes. Confidential treatment means freedom — from the risk of having your H.I.V. status made public, from the burden of stigma in the community you’ve always called home.
These images do more than tell stories of progress; they remind us of our shared humanity, of our responsibilities to one another. When you look at these photographs, don’t do so for merely a split second, as though you’re scrolling through your Instagram feed. Take the time to see the great hope contained within them. These brave people living their lives openly and honestly are pioneering a future without stigma. All of us should follow their lead. — ELTON JOHN
“I’m not doing sex work, but most of the people — most of my refugee friends — are engaging in sex work, because they want to earn a living. And most of the people that are engaging in sex work are getting different diseases like H.I.V./ AIDS .”
“He went to the kitchen and got a big wood and started beating me with it. I bled.”
“She also told me to go slow, as the community and culture do not accept homosexuality, and if they knew, I would be killed, disowned, imprisoned, abandoned and cursed.”
“The prison was hell. They made us walk totally naked from the prison entrance to the prison wards. Everyone knew we were homosexuals. They bullied us, gave us hard tasks and with hardly no food.”
“God knows us. God loves us, so he managed to protect us.”
“We are so far from the hospitals. And so can’t walk there, because if you do, you can be stoned to death. Even if you are sick, you have to just suffer.”
“I found that the place was so terrible, and the situation will remain that same situation, the same I was facing in Uganda.”
“They took me to a mud house in the village for two days. I was screaming for help, mercy. A cattle keeper heard me, broke in to rescue me. I ran away the same evening.”
“One time, my family was attacked in the middle of the night. They came at my home. They kicked the front door of our house. They entered, searching for me.”
“At the moment I am just waiting for death. I have the disease. I could not go to the hospital for treatment. I was persecuted everywhere, even inside the hospital.”
“I got married because I didn’t want people to know the truth about me. If they knew they would have killed me. They would have killed my family also.”
“We used to face a lot of issues in camp. Today I breathe, tomorrow I cannot breathe. That is the way we live.”
“Today, I can say I’m happy.”
“It’s not just a man who can give a woman a good life. We have strength too. We have determination.”
Many gay men in Mozambique, he says, end up “married with members of the opposite sex — many times, many times, mainly to try and keep their image in front of family.”
“I have to expose myself and run risks. I have to fight this fear.”
“I intend to get married abroad, and, here in the country, have children. In this case, the children I want to have will be adopted and be happy.”
“I do not regret anything. If I had to go back in time and do something different, I would not do anything different. I would do everything the same.”
“Before I got married, I stayed out, I stayed back from having sexual intercourse with my fellow woman, and I thought that was me. I was only deceiving myself. Then after a year I met someone, and I was like, that is when I discovered who I am.”
“Coming out in Ghana can be very dangerous. It can even cost your life.”
“My parents and family loved me so much. But when they realized my sexuality, everyone started to see me as evil. I was taken to churches, special places, because they felt I was possessed.”
“He’s our everything, our life and our future.”
Being H.I.V. positive “doesn’t mean your world is at end. You have life. ”
Elton John is a musician and the founder of the Elton John AIDS Foundation.
Robin Hammond is a photojournalist and founder of Witness Change .
Video by Shannon Sanders, William Lounsbury and Robin Hammond.