HIV/AIDS served as a springboard for Tenzin’s journey from despair
to hope
At 29 years old, Tenzin Wangmo (name changed) was already a mother of two young daughters when she again found herself pregnant with her third child. A routine blood test at Pemagatshel hospital was meant to be just another step in her journey, but the results would turn her world upside down.
The next day, she received a call from a health worker, asking her to come in for a follow-up test. “I never thought anything serious could be wrong,” Tenzin reminisces, the memory still lingering afresh in her distorted mind. What followed, however, would haunt her for the rest of her life. The words she heard from the health worker – “You have HIV/AIDS”- seemed to pierce right through her heart, a reality she prayed never to confront. “I thought it was a dream, a nightmare,” Tenzin recalls. “I couldn’t even process what they were saying. All I could think about were my daughters. Were they infected too?”
At that moment, Tenzin didn’t understand the full extent of what the diagnosis meant. She was overwhelmed by fear, and the uncertainty of the future weighed heavily on her as if the whole world came crashing upon her already traumatic life. How would her family react? Would they accept her? Would society shun her? These were the questions that kept her awake at night, as she wondered whether her aged parents could bear the social stigma that would inevitably ensue with such a diagnosis in a small community.
Returning home, Tenzin tried talking to her second husband, hoping that he would lend his ears, hoping that he atleast-of all the people in the world-would step up to support her. Instead, she was welcomed with utmost rejection, with blatant curses. “He started ignoring me, even accusing me of bringing this disease into our lives,” Tenzin shared, her voice simmering as she summoned up the painful experience. “The weight of his indifference was crushing, and eventually, I had no choice but to sever ties with him.”
Left alone and emotionally shattered, Tenzin fell into a spiral of depression. She turned to alcohol to numb the pain, isolating herself from everyone, even her own family. “I couldn’t tell my parents,” she admits, her face pale. “I couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in their eyes. I couldn’t imagine how they would react. Would they think I deserved this? Would they disown me? I was afraid they would look at me as someone unclean, someone damaged.”
But after months of silent suffering, Tenzin began to realize that hiding wasn’t going to heal her. It wasn’t going to bring back the peace she so desperately longed for. So she reached out to a health worker for help, not knowing what to expect but still full of determination.
That was when she found Genekha, the community that gave birth to Tenzin
Far off from a world that rejected her, Genekha gave Tenzin the courage to see herself as more than her HIV status. It was here that she learned she wasn’t defined by the label society wanted to imprint upon her. The stigma no longer held the same power over her. She began to heal, not just physically, but emotionally, as she found a community of people who had walked a similar path. “At Genekha, I felt like I had finally found a place where I could truly be myself,” she said, her eyes lighting up with a quiet sense of relief. “For the first time, I was surrounded by people who understood what I was going through. They didn’t judge me. They didn’t treat me like I was different. I felt at home.”
At Genekha, Tenzin not only received emotional support but also began to rebuild her life with the help of a network that provided job opportunities, counseling, and a sense of belonging. The overwhelming sense of shame that once consumed her slowly began to fade, replaced by a renewed sense of strength and purpose. “I thought I had lost everything, but Genekha helped me realize that I still had the power to move forward,” she said, as a faint smile lit up her face.
Her life, once filled with uncertainty and fear, began to take on a new shape. With the birth of her third child, healthy and uninfected, Tenzin now focuses on providing a better future for her daughters.
Yet, Tenzin’s story is not unique. According to the Stigma Index 2.0: People Living with HIV in Bhutan, internal and external stigma continue to plague people living with HIV (PLHIV) in Bhutan. The report highlights the self-stigmatization that many experience, like feelings of shame and fear that often prevent them from disclosing their status. Tenzin, like many others, kept her diagnosis a secret for years, revealing it only to her mother. She believes that secrecy was the best option to avoid stigma and isolation from loved ones. “I think with the secret, it is best that one can ensure continued access to treatment without prejudice.”
The stigma doesn’t end with self-doubt. The study also sheds light on external stigma, stating that PLHIV often face discrimination from their families, healthcare providers, and society at large. This discrimination takes many forms, from verbal abuse to social ostracism, and deters many from seeking necessary medical or social support.
Women, in particular, are more vulnerable to both internal and external stigma, with long-term diagnoses often exacerbating the intensity of the discrimination they face.
Wangda Dorji, founder of Lhak-Sam, an organization that supports people living with HIV in Bhutan, points out that despite 28 years of the HIV epidemic in Bhutan, discrimination remains rampant. He stresses the need for widespread education and awareness campaigns to reduce stigma and ensure that PLHIV can access care and support without fear of discrimination.
He said that there is a need for stronger support systems, especially in remote areas, and highlights the importance of training healthcare workers to provide compassionate, stigma-free care. “PLHIV should feel safe while seeking medical help and know their privacy is respected,” he said. He also calls for policies that protect the rights of PLHIV and for empowerment programs that give them the tools to advocate for their own rights.
The Stigma Index 2.0 also emphasizes the need for ongoing research to monitor trends and assess the effectiveness of interventions, ensuring that policies remain responsive to the needs of PLHIV.
The stigma index also emphasized that by implementing these recommendations mentioned in the index, it will significantly reduce stigma and discrimination against PLHIV in Bhutan, enhance their access to care and support, and contribute to the national goal of ending the AIDS epidemic by 2030.
Meanwhile, Genekha had already been the benefactor for around 60 people like her. Tenzin said, “I am not defined by the disease I live with,” her voice steady with conviction. “I am defined by the resilience and hope that now guide me.” And with each step she takes, Tenzin continues to build a future not just for herself, but for her daughters, one that is free from the shadows of disgrace and full of promise. Through places like Genekha and the wider network of support for people living with HIV, Tenzin has found her strength. And in doing so, she is rewriting her life, one step at a time.
The publication of this story is supported by the EU-funded project managed by Save the Children Bhutan in collaboration with Bhutan Transparency Initiative and RENEW. The publication is implemented by RENEW.
Nidup Lhamo from Thimphu
