For disadvantaged people with HIV, the road to health and recovery can be a slow and difficult process.  For those who persevere—aided by their own determination and accessible, available vital services—a better future awaits.

Consider the path of Carlos (not his real name). He suffered homelessness, drug addiction and alcoholism. To treat his mental and physical illnesses, including HIV, he bounced from hospital to hospital in search of temporary shelter and assistance with urgent medical needs.

With guidance from his Ryan White case manager, Carlos obtained permanent housing through AFC’s Samaritan Program, which provides apartments and supportive services for people with a history of chronic homelessness.

Carlos exemplifies how a small, subsidized apartment and a caring case manager can be a catalyst for change.

Recent high-profile articles about homelessness in the Chicago Tribune and Chicago Sun-Times suggest that such models of care may be at risk in Chicago. In response, AFC and its partners have drafted a sign-on letter to Mayor Rahm Emanuel, emphasizing the important role housing and food securities play in creating safe, vibrant communities.

“The erosion of affordable housing in Chicago means people like Carlos will spend more time on the streets, debilitating their already compromised immune systems,” said David Ernesto Munar, AFC president/CEO.  “We believe expanded affordable housing opportunities create stability for individuals and communities. Simply put, affordable housing and vital health and human services are essential building blocks for the fight against HIV/AIDS.”

As the federal government enters a period of significant budget belt-tightening (i.e., sequestration), critical funding for these very strategies will be even harder to secure. 

According to John Peller, vice president of policy at AFC, the Centers for Disease Control reports that there will be 424,000 fewer HIV tests across the U.S. as a result of sequestration. Moreover, 7,400 fewer patients across the U.S. are projected to benefit from the AIDS Drug Assistance Program, and 7,300 households will lose assistance from federal Housing Opportunities for People with AIDS.

Please endorse AFC’s letter urging Mayor Emanuel to ensure no one is made homeless under his watch.  Laudably, his administration’s plan against homelessness details the critical steps Chicago must take to help people like Carlos.  Now the hard work begins to make the plan a reality.

ATLANTA, GA - The stories we tell ourselves about the world we live in matter.  While we celebrate this week’s story of an HIV-miracle cure, let’s not forget the story of injustice that made it possible.

There have been a lot of stories about this week’s “Mississippi Miracle”—the apparent functional cure of a two-year-old girl who was born with HIV.

But I’d like to tell you another story: one that’s based on the few details that have emerged about the Mississippi case and the hard truths we know about the challenges facing many people living with HIV in the U.S.

It’s a story about our health care system:

A young mother in Mississippi goes into labor early.  Her arrival at the hospital is the first time she has received medical care during her pregnancy.

She has no documented HIV status, prompting hospital staff to test her for the virus. 

The test comes back positive.  Her baby is born prematurely, also infected with HIV.

In a matter of hours, the life of the young mother has been turned upside down.  She is now forced to confront the reality of living a lifetime with an incurable disease, one that could have been prevented.  Whatever life circumstances prevented her from accessing pre-natal care are likely left unaddressed. And then, at 18 months after birth, mother and baby are disconnected from care for a period of six months.

Sadly, if the story ended here, it would be unremarkable.  Despite over a decade of knowledge on preventing mother-to-child-transmission of HIV and the amazing success of public health programming, the CDC reports that about 300,000 children are still born with HIV each year globally and about 200 here in the U.S.

Of course, this particular story has quite a silver lining.  Defying all previous scientific knowledge and after a six-month gap in care, the toddler appears to have achieved a “functional cure” of her HIV infection.

Media attention has understandably focused on this historic observation and its potential implications for research that seeks a cure for HIV and mother-to-child-transmission.

But lurking behind this feel-good narrative are several heart-wrenching questions:

How is it possible for a pregnant woman in the world’s wealthiest country to not receive prenatal care? 

Why is it that our medical care system did not detect the HIV status of this young woman until she was about to delivery her baby?

Why is it that even after the mother and child were diagnosed with HIV that they were “lost to care” for over 6 months?

Why are we not asking these questions?

The fact of the matter is this “natural experiment” was brought about by a failure of our health care system to protect the most vulnerable (and often most invisible) members of our communities.  It should never have happened.

Our excitement and thrill over the breakthrough made by this accident of injustice should be matched by an equal sense of shame that we continue to allow our fellow human beings to slip through the cracks of a broken health care system.

However, the little girl blessed with a miracle need not be left to the mercy of the same social safety net that clearly failed her mother.  This is a story we can still change.  I hope you will stand with HIV Prevention Justice Alliance as we speak truth to power, putting pen to paper and bringing our bodies to streets, to write the story of a more just future for all.

John is a 26-year-old black man on Chicago’s West Side.

He’s HIV-positive.

And his name’s not really John. He wouldn’t tell me his real name, which makes sense, as he hasn’t even told his immediate family that he’s been living with HIV for five years. Nor has he told any of his friends. He hides his pill bottles. He admires women from afar, but rarely talks to them anymore.

What would he say?