“I was an intravenous drug user with my brother. We shared
needles and injected powder Cocaine. I’m not going to lie — I
thought that I was doing something good at the time because
it made me feel good to shoot that Cocaine in my arm.”
Rose Fife, 59
Philadelphia, PA
1 out of every 5
new female
HIV cases is
related to
injection
drug use.
- U.S. Center for
Disease Control
and Prevention
I was diagnosed with HIV in 1990. After losing my niece
and brother to the virus, I decided to get tested in 1990. I
went to the Women’s Care Center on City Line Avenue.
After being tested, three days later, I had a phone call for
me to come in. The young lady who told me that I was
positive was named Ms. Shirley. She was a wonderful
person. I broke down. She said, “You have HIV.” I
thought I had an STD, but it was HIV. I cried. I really
broke down. She just hugged me, and she said, “It’s going
to be alright.”
I knew how I contracted the virus. I was an intravenous
drug user with my brother. We shared needles and injected powder Cocaine. I am not going to lie – I thought that
I was doing something good at the time because it made
me feel good to shoot that Cocaine in my arm. It gave me
a feeling of a power. I felt like I could do
anything.
The high that I got from the Cocaine was
unbelievable. Everybody is different, and HIV can be contracted in different ways. I wasn’t promiscuous, so I
knew right away that I gotten it from my brother. He died from the virus.
At that time, I had a partner. He was a Muslim. I thought
that, by him being with me, that he would be there for
me, but evidently he wasn’t. He left me after he found out
that I had HIV. So that put a whole new, totally different
perspective on it for me.
I went through depression. I was a very depressed
young lady. I just knew that I was going die. That
was all I thought. I didn’t know about HIV or AIDS. I
didn’t know about it because I wasn’t educated about it. I
said to myself, There is something I have to do. As time
went on, I went into this mental health facility for
depression and they put me in Hahnemann Hospital. I
was on the 15th floor there. I went through it emotionally.
I cut my wrists, and I tried to kill myself. The staff there
reassured me and made me feel better.
After I got out of the hospital, they told me to go to a
program for mental health, and I did. It was at 1427 Vine
Street on the 1st floor. This was where I met Pamela
Branch, the coordinator for Impact. The people in the
program were only diagnosed with mental health issues,
and not HIV. Here I was sitting in a group everyday
talking about different issues, but I never spoke about my
diagnosis. I didn’t know how they would accept it. I knew
that they weren’t educated about HIV. I figured that, if
I told them that I had been diagnosed, they
would treat me like a leper – like I was
different. I didn’t want that. I wanted to be treated like
a human being, and I wanted people to understand that
something just happened to me.
After being out in the world, working as an entertainer for
27 years, this was different. As a dancer, the whole show
was about me. After finding out that I was diagnosed, I
stopped dancing. It was a personal choice for me. I felt
that I had to give all of that up because I had to get to
know what was going on with my body and with my
depression. You see, if you don’t know about something
that you have, it is best to get educated so that you can
explain it to others: your children, grandchildren, your
friends, etc. It is important to do this because it can help
break the stigma. Not dancing was really devastating to
me. When there is something that you really love and
enjoy, it is hard to overcome not being able to do it
anymore. In the entertainment industry, people used to
look at me and say, “Here she is! She is appearing! ‘Lady
Purdue’ – the lady who laid the golden egg!” I was a star
here in Philadelphia. I danced for a lot of organizations,
and my head was filled with confidence. I performed for
The F.O.P., the Masons, The Shriners, the Elks, the
Eastern Stars, the Temptations, Bunny Sigler, I met
Michael Jackson, Mr. Rudy Ray Moore in California,
performed for many cabarets, events in D.C., and much
more. To give all of that up was difficult.
Things were rough at home also. My oldest brother’s
response to my diagnosis was tying my
silverware off with rubber bands. I would go up to
my room in isolation, and, over time, I was getting sicker
and sicker. My nose and gums would bleed, and I was
losing a lot of weight.
I had to talk to someone. So I went back into the hospital
again. I had to find a very good healthcare provider, and I
found this at the Drexel Partnership. The woman wasn’t a
doctor, but a clinical practitioner. She again put me into
the hospital. She always talked to me about the virus. She
showed me this big green ball and used it as an analogy to
teach me about the virus and my immune system. At first,
I didn’t understand what she was saying. I asked her if
there was anyone else who was suffering with the virus,
and she told me that most of the people who were coming
to the clinic were infected and that I was not alone. She
told me to get involved, and I did.
I got involved with Project Teach. The first year, I didn’t
make it – I didn’t graduate. I would always go every
Tuesday and Thursday, and I would cry. Until this young
lady named Jackie stood up in the front of the class and
she hugged me. She said, “You’re going to be alright.
You’re around people that love you. Don’t cry in here.”
This is where I met Mr. Anthony Weldon. He assured me
that if I just kept the faith, I would be alright. I didn’t
believe it. I had to find out by myself. I found that I could
get stronger. I just flowed. Everyday I would go home, lie
down, listen to my music, and just think, How can I tell
my grandchildren and my children that I have
HIV?
I think it was in 1995 when I moved to 33 rd and Diamond
with my daughter – my oldest child. I had a friend who I
had known since he was eighteen years old. He came to
visit me, and he hadn’t seen me in years. I disclosed to
him that I had HIV. He cried, and then I broke down and
cried. I said, Here I go again. We were both crying
together. He hugged me and said, “You’re going to be
alright. You have to get yourself together and live your
life. Get yourself together. You are losing it. You are
losing weight. You aren’t yourself.” He was right.
I went back to Philadelphia FIGHT, and I graduated. I
wanted to do more because I felt that there was
something else that I could be doing. I figured that I
could be a peer educator and a motivational speaker. I
became just that, and I love what I do. I love speaking to
people and letting them know what this virus is and that
you can live. It is no longer a death sentence. The
face of HIV has changed. If Magic Johnson can do it,
so can I. He has money, and I didn’t have any money, but
I was still surviving.
The only problem was getting access to medications. As
time went on, my doctor put me on Sustiva and Trivada
to build my immune system up. It didn’t work, though –
my numbers stayed the same, while my doctor was trying
to get me to the undetectable level. Over time, things
improved. Today, I want to live as long as I can. I
know that, if I could use drugs, then I can take
my medications. I have been on my medications now
for over five years. I am doing excellent. My CD4 Count is
up, and my Viral Load is undetectable. I still see a
psychiatrist and a therapist. It is nice to be able to go and
talk about my feelings and experiences.
Today, I live with the virus, and I go all around the world
speaking about HIV. The one challenge that I experienced
with going public was when I moved to North Carolina in
around 2000. I moved just to get away after all that I had
been through. When I did, I went to Raleigh, NC, to an
office for infectious diseases. When I walked in there and
explained my situation, the lady there said to me, “You
are the first Black woman to ever come in here with HIV.”
I said to myself, WOW! The stigma down there is
unbelievable. If you die down there from the virus, they
call it Cancer. They don’t even call it HIV. I suggested to
According to
2005 Census data, AfricanAmerican and
Hispanic women
account for 24%
of the U.S. female
population and
82% of the U.S.
HIV-infected
female
population.
- U.S. Center for
Disease Control
and Prevention
In 2001, the rate
of HIV diagnosis
for AfricanAmerican women
was 20 times
higher than that
of Caucasian
women.
- U.S. Center for
Disease Control
and Prevention
that woman that she open up a group for women to talk
about their conditions. I said it would be a good thing for
women to be able to communicate with one another. She
said that it was a good idea. You see, in the South, they
have two people come to your house in a White car, and
when they do that, people know that you have HIV. I said
to myself, I can’t have people coming to my son’s house
and letting his neighbors and others know that I have
HIV. I didn’t want people thinking that. So I left North
Carolina because of that, and I returned to Philly. I got
involved back home. I had to check my reasoning all over
again. I knew that I wanted to live, and this was
something that I had to do.
I also just recently got out of a relationship with a man
whom I was with for eight years. We had made
commitment vows. I thought he loved me. He was there
in the program for mental health with me. We met
because he asked me to tell him my deepest darkest
secret, and I told him I had HIV. He told me that if he
didn’t take his medications, he would die and that, if I
didn’t take mine, I would die. This was what we had in
common. We just broke up three months ago. I was okay
with it. He had been trying to hold be back because I was
out here speaking about the virus. I was always on the go
– going to speak in different places. He didn’t like that.
After our split, I told my family what was going on with
me. That disclosure piece was the hardest thing I
had to do – to tell my daughter, my sons, and my
grandchildren that I had HIV. They asked me,
“Well, Mommy, how did you get it?” I told them that it
was from shooting drugs. My daughter was educated, and
I thank God for that. My sons weren’t, so I had to sit
down and explain it to them. It was really difficult
with my youngest son. He wouldn’t bring his
daughter around me because he believed that, if
I hugged or kissed her, she would get HIV. Until
this day, I still don’t get to see her. I love her. She is five,
and her name is Reese. I wish I could see her more, but I
don’t. I think his wife has something to do with the way
he thinks about the virus. It hurts me so much not being
able to have the kind of relationship with my
granddaughter that I would like to.
No one knows what I go through. I try to walk the walk
and hold it together, but it is hard. I have found my faith
in God, and I was baptized three years ago. I am a Latter
Day Saint, and I was confirmed in the church. I told my
church members that I have HIV. I stood up on the pulpit
and told them about my condition, and they accepted me.
My dentist and his family attend the same church, and
they took me in and accepted me. They ignored the stigma. I needed to be hugged, and they embraced me. My
eye doctor at Hahnemann Hospital, who is also from my
church, accepted me too. I met a whole lot of people at
my church. It was a big change coming from North Philly
to Logan where I live now. I feel welcomed in my church
community, and it has been wonderful.
Today I give out condoms. I collect them, and I talk to the
young boys on the corner selling drugs and being
promiscuous. I tell them to use the condoms that I give
them. They call me “The Condom Queen.” I am out here
steady moving and doing a whole lot of work. I am part of
the Positive Women’s Network, I am a peer educator, and
a motivational speaker. I have spoken at Congreso, I have
spoken at Temple to the students who are studying to
become social workers, and I have even spoken to a
sorority. I am just trying to do my part.
These days, I am clean from drugs, but I have a new
addiction. I like to get dressed. I dress up on the outside,
and it helps dress my mind up on the inside. There is
nothing that anyone could say to tear me down. When
people ask me about my diagnosis, I answer
their questions, and explain things to them so
that they can have a better understanding.
I have also begun to feel more love and appreciation in
my life. My daughter gave me a gift recently: a mini
poodle. He has no sight, but that dog loves me, and he is
very smart. I’ve never walked him on a chain, and yet he
knows where to go to the bathroom, how to find me, and
he senses how I am feeling. He senses things that a
human being wouldn’t know. Plus, I have a wonderful
new relationship.
After I started at the Partnership, a lot of people would
see me there always coming and going with my Peer Educator badge on. However, I didn’t know the whole time I
was there that there was young man who had his eyes on
me. I really prayed that God would send someone good to
me, and he answered my prayers. I believe that I’ve made
the right choice. I call him, and he is there. He calls me
too, and it feels good to say, “I love you!” on the phone. It
is also so nice to hear. I don’t get that from my youngest
son. To hear someone say, “I love you!” is a beautiful
thing. I can just go on with my life.
I tell people who have HIV, “Don’t let anyone insult you.
Don’t let them break your spirit. Encourage them to get
tested, and just live your life.”
I will be 60 in December, and I am too hot to trot. I have
a lot of certificates. Come June 11th, I will be graduating
from Circle of Care for a Community Leadership
Initiative. I have also been a part the Drexel Partnership
for years. My pictures are all over. I was rewarded with a
digital camera and gift certificates. I have a new doctor
now, and she even came to my apartment and took
pictures of me two weeks ago.
I know that I can do this now. I’ve been clean for years,
and it feels good. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I have
my power back. I can just go and do what I need to do. All
I have to say is this, “Never let anybody take your power
from you.” I will never let anyone take my power again,
like people have done to those who have HIV. It has been
a change for me. I love life, and I wouldn’t trade it for all
of the tea in China. It is a big deal when you become 60,
but here it is. Everything is going uphill for me. I can
smile again. It may simply be sunny outside, and it brings
a smile to my face.
My latest mission is to eventually go down South again. I
want to let my brother know about my diagnosis because
I never told him. I am ready to open up a whole can of
worms down there. I want to let people know that it is not
Cancer that people are dying from – it is HIV. The problem is that people are still afraid, and it isn’t just in
Raleigh — it is in other parts of North Carolina too. People are really afraid of this disease. Yet they have
problems like we do up North: prostitution, drug use, etc.
I want to tell them to beware – they better beware. It
is out here, and it doesn’t discriminate.
There are people out there everywhere using
drugs and shortening their lives. That is why I
speak about it. If I had the opportunity to go on national
television, I would. I want people to know that there are
plenty of young girls out here that are hot – they
are promiscuous. And there are men out there
who are on the down low and in denial.
It is so important to be careful and cautious. Don’t be
afraid to ask a person if they have been tested
for HIV and if they know what it is. If they don’t
know, refer them to the AIDS Library. You can find
information at so many social service organizations.
There is no excuse these days not to know about
it. There are people that I still know who are scared to
disclose it. I don’t care. I will disclose it to the Pope.
Guess what, I got it, but it ain’t got me. I am going to
live my life my life to the fullest. I am going to keep on
going.
The HIV
diagnosis rate in
Philadelphia is
5 times the
national average.
- The Public Record
Today Rose continues to participate in
BEBASHI Support Group Meetings. She has
guest lectured on a number of occasions, and
she visits the office occasionally to greet and
spend time with the BEBASHI staff members.
Rose is very open about her HIV status, and
she never hesitates to share her story with
others. With her bright smile and brightly
coordinated outfits, she offers a great deal of
inspiration to so many of those around her.
Rose is determined to continue living life to the
fullest, and she refuses to let her diagnosis
stand as an obstacle to her enjoyment.