The emergence of PrEP has highlighted important gender inequalities in HIV transmission and HIV prevention. PrEP, or pre-exposure prophylaxis, is a drug that HIV-negative people (including women!) can take to help prevent HIV; however, most discussions about PrEP focus on men. Despite representing fewer new HIV infections than men, women also need innovative HIV prevention methods.
Je me vois souvent contraint de commencer mes billets sur le travail du sexe en parlant du Grand Prix de F1 de Montréal.
Chaque année, dans la foulée du Grand Prix – et particulièrement l’année dernière, en juin – les médias se font un plaisir, sinon un devoir, de prendre d’assaut ce qu’ils perçoivent comme une violente augmentation de l’exploitation sexuelle et de la traite des femmes dans le cadre de ces évènements sportifs. Cette médiatisation s’inscrit dans une approche abolitionniste aux effets néfastes, ceux-ci incluant une surveillance accrue, des arrestations plus fréquentes et des risques de déportation plus élevés pour les travailleuse(-eur)s du sexe.
The Gardiner Museum of Ceramic Art, in partnership with the Toronto Community Hep C Program (TCHCP), invited people with lived experience of hepatitis C to take part in an art project called The Face of Our Story. In that project, clay tiles depicting stories of lived experience would be displayed at the museum on World Hepatitis Day, July 28, 2016. This is the story of Signe and Tom who participated in the event.
The day arrived when we met with museum staff, were given a tour, and the project was explained to us. We were nervous. We were proud to be part of this experience, but at the same time unsure of our surroundings and what was expected of us. None of us had ever put on an art show in a museum. We spoke in hushed tones and experienced a feeling of reverence as we saw the beautiful work of other artists. We exchanged glances and thought, “Uh oh! What are we doing here?”
British Columbia, Vancouver Island in particular, is in the midst of health tragedy that many of us find hard to describe. In one sense, we can trace the beginning of this crisis to Thursday, April 14th, 2016 when the chief medical office, flanked by the B.C. Minister of Health, declared a public health emergency to address what had already been four terrible months of overdose-related deaths. Since then, I have been privy to receiving periodic updates from the B.C. Coroner Service on the ever-climbing death toll—the most recent post released mid-September.
On a personal note, this ever-escalating human tragedy started for me on December 21st, 2015, three weeks after the Royal Jubilee Hospital in Victoria had stolen from their premises what has since been described as the largest theft of fentanyl in the history of the Vancouver Island Health Authority. On that afternoon of December 21st, the body of a much-liked client was discovered in a parkade less than a block from the region’s largest needle exchange. He died of an overdose.
“CWGHR,” I responded to my new friend at the 2016 International AIDS Conference in Durban, South Africa. I pronounce our acronym like, “Quigger.”
“Oh, I’ve never heard of Quitter.”
“… that’s because the name is actually, CWGHR”.
Picture it … Quebec City, 1998, thirty people with diverse interests, identities and professions meet to discuss the idea of HIV and rehabilitation for the first time. All were curious, but unsure of the connection between rehabilitation and HIV prevention, treatment, care and support and the role they could play. There the Canadian Working Group on HIV and Rehabilitation (CWGHR) was born! As people were no longer expecting to die of AIDS, this group of pioneers could see that rehabilitation – in a broad sense – was key to enabling people living with HIV to not only survive, but also thrive.
Le Blogue de CATIE présente des perspectives et opinions des personnes et organismes qui travaillent ou collaborent bénévolement à la réponse du Canada au VIH et à l’hépatite C.