The Face of Our Story

By Signe Dewar and Tom Barnard

signe-photo-cropped tom-photo-croppedThe 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?”

More obvious and sinister villains are responsible for the number of drug overdose deaths in Vancouver Island

By Shane Calder

shane-speaking-at-rally-croppedBritish 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.

From CWGHR to realize: A Coming of Age Story

By Tamtcy-pic-croppedmy C. Yates

“So what organization do you represent?”

“CWGHR,” I responded to my new friend at the 2016 International AIDS Conference in Durban, South Africa.  I pronounce our acronym like, “Quigger.”

“Quitter?”

“No, CWGHR.”

“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.

We need to address the unique and complex issues of Indigenous people living with HIV

By Cécile Kazatchkine and Sandra Ka Hon Chu

cecile-k-2SANDRA_HI_RES- croppedIndigenous people in Canada are disproportionately affected by HIV, representing 10.8 per cent of new HIV infections and 9.1 per cent of people living with HIV in Canada.[1]  In Saskatchewan alone, the number of Indigenous people living with HIV is around twice the national average and the highest in Canada and “one of the few places in the industrialized world where people are still dying from AIDS and HIV.”

Lack of access to HIV treatment and care among other complex factors contributes to these alarming rates: in many rural or remote areas, HIV-specific services are simply not available, or the small size of the community creates concerns around confidentiality for those accessing care. Indigenous people in Canada — many of whom are surviving a legacy of colonization and the intergenerational effects of residential schools — continue to experience systemic discrimination and extremely high rates of incarceration. In this context, the criminalization of HIV non-disclosure may be perceived as yet another form of institutionalized violence and discrimination, amplifying the negative impact of the HIV epidemic on Indigenous communities.

The Canadian Consensus Statement. Sign it. Use it. I have and here’s why.

Glenn BetteridgeBy Glenn Betteridge

Many of you may have noticed the ebb and flow of the community-based HIV movement, influenced by medical and scientific breakthroughs, funder priorities, community activism and larger political, social and economic forces.  Throughout my 20-plus years in HIV community-based work and volunteering, I have tried to ground myself in a few bedrocks as a way of anchoring my work. The essential connection between health and human rights. The need for policies, programs and services grounded in evidence and lived experience. Recognition of the central role played by the social determinants of health. And a commitment to social justice and taking seriously the voices of those most affected.  That’s why I signed on to The Canadian Consensus Statement on the health and prevention benefits of HIV antiretroviral medications and HIV testing. The Consensus Statement uses these same foundations to ground a comprehensive, community-driven, holistic response to the HIV epidemic that combines HIV treatment and prevention, and health and human rights.