Thinking about PrEP, A Year Later
About 1 year and two months ago I first starting taking Truvada as Pre-Exposure Prophylaxsis, or what many people these days are simply referring to as PrEP. This method of HIV prevention works by taking a daily pill that prevents HIV from infecting cells in your body and replicating.
Truvada, contrary to popular belief, is not a new drug. It has been tested and evaluated for over a decade, first in combination with another HIV drug to stop the spread of HIV in someone who is HIV-positive, and more recent years as a prevention method.
Truvada as PrEP has been shown to have minimal side effects in its clinical trials, the worst of which include temporary nausea and digestive problems upon taking the medicine, possible elevated kidney function tests, and very minor bone density loss. People who take Truvada for prevention are required to have HIV tests every months, and most also have STI testing in the same interval through their primary care doctors.
(And no, Truvada doesn’t prevent against STIs but there is no evidence that being on Truvada increases chances of getting an STI. Even if that were the case, regular care and treatment can help stop the spread of untreated STIs and mutations.)
When taken daily, Truvada is likely at least 99% effective at the individual level, though those numbers could be even higher. There has not been a single reported case in a study (or in managed PrEP programs like Kaiser’s in San Francisco) where someone who is highly adherent to PrEP gets HIV.
Even in countries like the United Kingdom (where Truvada as a prevention method is not yet approved), exploratory PrEP studies (like the PROUD Study) have surprised researchers and clinicians alike, as evidenced by the following video:
Why did I decide to start PrEP a year ago? Quite simply: I was having sex without condoms and was terrified of getting HIV, even if using condoms often hasn’t felt right for a complex number of reasons, many of which I’ve not yet fully understood.
I was equally as scared about Truvada though. Why were these pills so expensive? Why was Gilead so awful? What about the side effects? What was on the other side of taking this drug daily?
But then I came across a Facebook group where members were talking openly about their experiences on PrEP. I also knew a number of other individuals in HIV prevention and treatment work who were educating, not moralizing, about this prevention method.
Back in August last year, I was underemployed. I worked as a contractor and didn’t have health insurance. Even with healthcare subsidies, monthly premiums were burdensome under the Affordable Care Act. In this process of research, I learned about the SHINE Program through the failed HIV vaccine trial I am still part of.
I could not only get access to sexual health services as someone who was LGBTQ-identified, but during my first visit I also learned about an assistance program through Gilead that would allow me to have access to Truvada every month for a whopping price of $0. Yes, that’s right, a drug that retails for $1,500 a month in New York City could be mine for free.
So I took the required HIV and kidney function tests, submitted my paperwork to Gilead, and a few weeks later I had my bottle in my hand. The evening of September 15th, I looked at the bright blue pill emblazoned with 701. I placed it on my tongue, and swallowed. Little did I know what would happen next would change my life in so many positive ways.


A year later things are much better for me, in a variety of ways. At the beginning of 2015, I received a job offer which finally gave me full full health benefits. I had to part ways with SHINE Project but ended up finding one of the most professional, compassionate and efficient primary care doctors in Dr. Robbins Gottlock at Beth Israel. As a gay doctor, he’s been able to speak with me frankly and without judgment in all of the questions I’ve asked.
When I switched from being uninsured to insured, I also had to switch assistance programs with Gilead. For those who are insured, Gilead offers a co-pay coupon card that can reduce the monthly copay by up to $300. I still pay nothing per month for Truvada. For those who have high deductibles, the Patient Access Network (PAN) Foundation can help offset the deductible costs if you make below 500% the current federal poverty line (or $58,850 for 1 person).
One of the biggest (unexpected) benefits has been getting quarterly testing with a dedicated doctor.
Before, I would get an HIV test every 3–6 months, depending on my perceived risk of HIV infection. I would only get a urine test for gonorrhea and chlamydia every 6 months through the vaccine trial I’m part of, never oral or anal swabs for the same things, despite the fact that both sites are as vulnerable (or not more) for contracting an STI.
Now, on PrEP, I get tested in all three sites every 3 months, along with an HIV and syphilis test. When I first met with Dr. Gottlock, we also went through and confirmed previous Hep A/B vaccines, and I received a meningitis vaccine.
This kind of comprehensive testing happens in many other countries like the United Kingdom and Australia, but sexual health care is still not seen as a right in the United States.
On this last point, I’ve come to realize how Truvada as PrEP is by no means a substitute for the deeply engrained ways in which we police and devalue bodies of LGBTQ folks, particularly those who are low income, trans and people of color. But it is, however, an opportunity to become an advocate for better sexual healthcare for all.
It’s also an opportunity for individuals not only to stay HIV negative but become HIV-neutral in the process. By this term, I refer to the fact that discrimination against HIV-positive people is rampant, even in queer communities. By being HIV-neutral you make a pledge to not discriminate against sexual partners on the basis of HIV-status.


This is just one of the ways in which I’ve started devoting my life to talking about HIV/AIDS and sexual health because of this realization. Even if what I do might not solve all of the structural inequalities, I hope to get more people talking about these issues and making a positive change in some way.
In the next few months I’m traveling to Mexico City, Johannesburg and Cape Town to collect stories of younger queer people who are contending with many of the same issues I’ve faced over at Our Viral Lives. This is an archival and documentary project that is evolving as it goes online, but there are so many stories to tell that don’t yet have a home.
Since I’ve been on PrEP, and been so vocal about my experiences, I’ve gotten dozens of messages from others who have been considering PrEP (and don’t really know what it’s about), who recently started it, or who have been on it for a while and wanted to thank me for being so open about my struggles.
In this process, I’ve been much more honest about my sexual experiences. Even if they haven’t changed a lot, I definitely have many more HIV-positive partners than I did before PrEP, and I feel much more strongly connected to the ways mainstream LGBTQ culture is erasing their experiences. I know that we need to talk about sex differently.
Swallowing a little blue pill day after day will not make HIV go away, at least not entirely.
Swallowing a little blue pill day after day will not obliterate shame, silence, self-erasure, or a myriad of other emotional and psychological scars of an HIV epidemic.
Swallowing a little blue pill day after day will not liberate those who access to sexual health care is already extremely limited on the basis of class, gender identity or racial identity.
We will, collectively, save each other through our dedication to sexual and reproductive health justice.
A little blue pill can be part of that because Truvada as PrEP is effective at an individual and population level to stop the spread of HIV. We live in a sexual world where condoms are being ditched and rather than beat the same dead horse that hasn’t lowered HIV infection rates in 20 years, we have to adapt.
I’m hopeful that access and education will be quickly expanded around the world so that more have the choice to make for themselves. Slut-shaming anti-sex arguments were never relevant and are still not relevant in 2015.
My PrEP journey, then, ends (or begins, depending on how you want to look at) not with the pill itself but the sexual possibilities it has awoken within and outside of queer communities. There’s now a revival of advocacy work we haven’t seen in a long time.
The word “cure” is still elusive, but new individual possibilities for having and thinking about sex are here. Nothing excites me more.