My name is Philip Baldwin. I am a human-rights activist and writer with a particular focus on HIV, LGBTQ+ issues, homelessness, asylum and faith inclusion.

I was diagnosed with HIV in January 2010 when I was 24 years old. The HIV diagnosis took place over my lunch break from work. When the nurse told me that I was HIV-positive it came as a complete shock. It took me about three years to come to terms with my HIV. It was not until the end of 2012 that I had the confidence to tell my employer or my parents that I was living with HIV. Sometimes it can be hardest to tell the people you love the most. From about 2014, I began to get involved in HIV campaigning as I wanted to help and advocate for other people living with HIV. I was fortunate in that I was offered a column by the Huff Post discussing what it is like to be gay, HIV-positive and working in financial services as a lawyer, which was my job at the time. My activism snowballed from that point. I now write for many different publications and am also a trustee of a number of charities. I know that I am very fortunate to have the voice that I do on HIV and LGBTQ issues. My HIV was at first incredibly frightening but I now feel more empowered than ever before.

Home for me is my apartment in London. I’ve lived in London since my early twenties and have always felt at home in the city. Coronavirus aside, it always feels alive. It has a special energy. It’s a joy being close to museums, theatres and other cultural institutions. There are many other parts of the UK which have special memories, such as where I grew up in Cumbria, Edinburgh – where I went to school – or the universities where I studied. London is home, though, and I would say that my apartment is my sanctuary.

My apartment is contemporary in design and I’m surrounded by books relating to my degrees and LGBTQ campaigning. I’ve lots of photos of my friends. I live alone and don’t really cook so in terms of smells I’m afraid it doesn’t get more exciting than the occasional scented candle. I live near the river Thames and you can often hear the boats making their way up and down the river. Importantly, my home is somewhere for me where I feel safe. As a writer, I do often spend days at my desk in my apartment and it is a place of nourishment, comfort and inspiration.

I wasn’t actually living in my current apartment when I was diagnosed with HIV, back in 2010. I moved several years ago. I don’t believe my perception of home changed as a consequence of my HIV-diagnosis. It is worth noting that following my diagnosis I left the sexual health clinic and made the short journey back to where I was living. I curled up on the sofa in a foetal position and cried. I went back to my apartment because, again, that was where I felt safe. At this time of crisis, my apartment is where I sought shelter.

In terms of positive reactions, I’ve had people I’ve never met before come up to me, tell me I’ve read my columns or an interview and they confide in me that they’re HIV-positive and haven’t told anyone else. I always emphasise that they should reach out to peer-support services but it’s touching to know that I can have impacted even a few people in a small way. In terms of the strongest negative reaction, I went on a date with a guy a few years ago. We were sitting at the bar and had just ordered some drinks. I hadn’t… I mentioned that I had been writing something about HIV the other day and he asked me if I was HIV-positive and then flipped out. It was really strange, He called me dirty and a slut in the bar, loudly in front of lots of other people. He left shortly afterwards but that really shocked me. It demonstrates how real stigma of HIV remains.

For the first few years, following my HIV-diagnosis, I didn’t tell my employer about my HIV-status. I had previously felt comfortable in my work environment but now I suddenly had this secret. I felt I had to be furtive about my HIV at work and that changed the dynamic in the workplace a bit, although I never felt excluded. In terms of my living situation my HIV status has never impacted this.

My HIV-diagnosis has actually brought me closer to my parents. I’m lucky to have their support. However, my friends were the first people I spoke to following the HIV-diagnosis. I needed their support. They were very kind, one of them even accompanying me to my first appointment at the specialist HIV clinic.

I have another safe space now. I am gay and Christian. Around 2013, I began to explore faith and I was fortunate to find inclusive churches in London. I am very aware that many LGBTQ+ people have not had this journey, some being rejected by their faith communities and families on account of their sexuality or gender identity. The church I attend most often was built at the end of the seventeenth-century but has a modern interior. It’s quiet, contemplative. I was confirmed in 2015. The churches I attend are Church of England churches and I get a lot of support from my priests and the congregation. Church for me is a place of peace, prayer and community, but also where I gain strength to push forwards with my campaigning. I see a happy and confident young man who is trying to do his very best.

I’d just like to thank you for inviting me to participate in this project. If anyone would like to find out more about my campaigning, I can be found on Twitter and Insta @philipcbaldwin.