A Beautiful Woman

A Beautiful Woman

She sits before the class. She’s probably 60, with Mardi Gras beads around her neck for Fat Tuesday. She’s spunky, she’s fun, and she’s inviting. She looks like my old kindergarten teacher. Her hair is auburn with a bit of gray. Her mouth wrinkles with years of laugh lines.

She has AIDS.

She was an elementary school teacher. She loves children. Her husband worked in a factory and was a blood donor whenever given the opportunity for the paid time off and free juice and cookies. He found out over the telephone that he was HIV positive. She got tested. At 31, she too was HIV positive.

He had an encounter that contracted him the virus. A one night stand, a one time thing. She took care of him until he died. He was 39.

When asked how and why she stayed with him she said, “I loved him. He was my partner. I’m more pissed at him for leaving me here than having the affair.”

She went on to offer advice on anger: “I’m a fan of holding anger. There’s nothing wrong with it. I’ve made myself 3 rules: 1.) I can’t hurt myself. 2.) I can’t hurt anyone else. And 3.) I have to clean it up."

She now speaks to schools and training classes of her experience living with HIV/AIDS. She is an educator. A survivor. A fighter. A lover. She is a beautiful woman.