Andrew Keates: Real Stories from the AIDS Pandemic

Andrew Keates grew up in Dorset and realized he was gay at 13. He loves the theater and is now an award-winning director. Some of his productions have been performed in the West End, including 'As Is', 'Dessa Rose', and 'Dark Sublime'. In 2018, he received the 'Young Achiever of the Year Award' for his success in theater and his work raising awareness about HIV and under-represented communities.

Andrew felt let down by the lack of education about HIV and the absence of gay role models when he was young. In 2013, he directed a revival of 'As Is' to honour those lost to the AIDS pandemic and raise awareness about HIV. He made a pact with his cast and crew to get tested for HIV. At the end of the production, he found out he was HIV positive.

This podcast series features stories taken from our first book, a collection of essays, reflections, and testimonies also entitled ‘Love, Loss & Life’ which you can buy here.

An audiobook is also available here.

Visit the National HIV Story Trust website

Transcript

Christopher Ashman: 0:06

Love loss and life real stories from the AIDS pandemic. This is Andrew Keates story read by Christopher Ashman with an introduction by Anita Dobson.

Anita Dobson: 0:34

Andrew Keates grew up on a council estate in Dorset and came out as gay at the age of 13. always drawn to the theatre. He is now a multi award winning theatre director, many of whose productions have found their way to the West End, including William Hoffman's AIDS play, as is the European premiere of DISA rose, starring Cynthia Erivo and in 2019, Michael Dennis's play Dark Sublime. In 2018, the Vice Chancellor of Surrey University awarded him a Young Achiever of the Year Award in recognition not only of his success in the theatre, but also of his work raising awareness of HIV and those from under-represented backgrounds. Andrews generation was failed by section 28. The non promotion of homosexuality in schools didn't provide them with any relevant sexual health education at that time. Nor were their authentic gay role models in the media. Thanks to an overwhelming sense of shame, Andrew freely admits that as he came into adulthood, there were times when he didn't care if he lived, let alone whether someone was wearing a condom. In 2013, after seeing HIV infection rates in London soar, he decided to direct a revival of William Hoffman's AIDS play, as is honouring all those who were lost to the AIDS pandemic, whilst raising awareness about HIV today, giving others what he had lacked as a younger man. He had a pact with his cast and creative team, that they would all have an HIV test. At the end of the production, he discovered he himself was positive.

Andrew Keates (read by Christopher Ashman): 2:34

It never occurred to me for a moment that I was anything but negative. I sat in a room at the sexual health clinic flirting and joking with a very attractive nurse who took a small prick of blood from my finger and popped it into a little pot. Then he went quiet. I saw his expression and said,"It's not positive, is it?" He put his hand on my shoulder and said, "It is mate, and we're going to look after you." I don't remember much about what happened next. I was in intense shock. In that moment, my only thought as I reeled out onto the street was 'who do I tell?''Whom can I ask for help?' 'How can I phone my mum and tell her this'. The one thing she was frightened of when I told her I was gay. I was referred to a clinic at St. Thomas's hospital. I sat looking around the waiting room which was full of people. A mother with a baby screaming its head off a smart man in a grey suit, some old queens in their leather and plenty of young people. I longed to have some simple STD like chlamydia or gonorrhoea, which I presumed was what most of them had, waiting to be diagnosed. When I went in to see the nurse, he quickly disabused me. "We don't do sexual screening in this clinic", he said. "Every single person in that waiting room is HIV positive". At that moment, I felt a little less alone. I understood I had a virus that affects all generations, all genders, all colours, all creed's. That in any carriage on a tube train in London, as that nurse explained, you are guaranteed not to be the only person with HIV. But what people need to realise is that it's not those who know they are HIV positive that are passing the virus on. Anyone on effective medication has undetectable amounts of virus which cannot be passed on. It's the people who don't know who may well be laughing the loudest and pointing the finger at others who could be passing it on themselves. Young people often downgrade the risk of AIDS and HIV because they imagine you take a pill and everything's fine. But that's not always the case. In the first six months on medication, in my case, it was Atripla, I lost two stone in weight. The days were like walking through cotton wool, and the night brought chronic insomnia, hallucinations and the worst night terrors you can imagine. My brain felt on fire. Every other day I had to change my sheets because either they were saturated in sweat or my bowels had relaxed. I accepted this state of affairs because I didn't realise there were other drugs out there. But fortunately, my doctor took one look at me months later and realised I needed to change regime. That one wasn't ideal either. But eventually, we arrived at the point of me being able to take a single pill every day that keeps my viral count undetectable, and gives me a strong CD4 (T-cell count) reading so I know my immune system is relatively strong. Of course, no one can say how fine I will be in later years. The medication controls the virus, but it is not a cure. I was tempted to keep the fact I was positive secret, because I feared the way others would treat me. But my mum had always brought me up to own who I am, and be proud of it. I was already working with a charity in the theatre, called the 'Make A Difference Trust', which builds awareness of HIV and AIDS and raises money for projects all over the world. They were holding an event at the Dominion Theatre in the West End, and I volunteered to go on stage and come out as being HIV+ to inspire others to get tested. Since that day, I've been messaged by hundreds of 1000s of people who have been afraid to reveal their status, thanking me for being open. It sounds strange, but in many ways, being HIV positive is the best thing that ever happened to me, because it gave me a purpose and a reason to live. The biggest obstacle for people with HIV isn't the virus. It's what everyone around them is saying and thinking. And we have to change that because it denies them the most incredible experience, which is to fall in love and be with someone. Couples who once would have been separated through death and now separated through prejudice. The message we have to get across is that with today's HIV medication and viral load testing, not to mention PrEP, undetectable HIV equals on transmissible, HIV, and serodiscordant couples can keep themselves safe and still enjoy sex. I know now I can still love and be loved. And that is the most precious gift in life.

Christopher Ashman: 8:06

Thank you for listening to this story from Love Loss & Life, a collection of stories reflecting on 40 years of the AIDS pandemic in the 80s and 90s. To find out more about the National HIV Story Trust, visit nhst.org.uk. The moral rights of the author has been asserted. Text copyright NHST 2021. Production copyright NHST 2022.