December 31, 2007

LaTrischa Miles

In 1971, a group of doctors, hippies and concerned locals founded the Westport Free Health Clinic in Kansas City to serve the low-income community. Since the ’80s, the clinic has focused largely on HIV prevention and care. Now known as the Kansas City Free Clinic, it still provides comprehensive, free health care—and is the only site in Kansas City offering anonymous HIV testing.

LaTrischa Miles serves as the clinic’s Treatment Adherence Specialist. In both career and life she attacks AIDS through awareness and education—whether speaking to a class of 20 at her daughter’s high school or to a congregation of 600 in Africa. At a community education project called HIV University, Miles co-facilitates the Community Wellness Project, educating people about how to achieve heart health and emotional and spiritual peace. She sits on the Consumer Advisory Committee of the Ryan White Planning Council, speaks at churches during the Black Church Week of Prayer and has participated in a National Minority AIDS Council training program to train leaders in reducing HIV stigma.

How did you get from being diagnosed with HIV to working at the Free Clinic?

I remember my diagnosis like a birthday—December 15, 1995. [After hearing the news] I went through a three-year period of depression and non-acceptance. It took me that long to finally accept my diagnosis and move on.

When I began to see changes in my body [as a result of anti-retroviral treatment (ARV)], I called some 800 numbers [of AIDS support lines] and was referred to HIV University in Kansas City. With support from other women I called “seasoned”—women who knew how to live with HIV successfully—I began to say, “You know, you can do this too.” I didn’t want another woman to go through what I did—the three years of depression. No woman should have to do that.

At the time I was working, and didn’t see how I could be active in the HIV community. But I kept in contact with the founder of HIV University of Kansas City, who eventually went to work at the Free Clinic. After I was laid off from my job, a peer educator position opened up at the Free Clinic.

Today, I’m a Treatment Adherence Specialist—which means I wear more than one hat, because adherence is not just about taking the medicine. It’s about taking advantage of education, keeping your doctors’ visits; it’s about exercise, nutrition, taking care of the mind. My job is to engage my clients and keep them engaged.

I supervise the clinic’s HIV peer-to-peer treatment adherence program. We work on helping clients understand the basics of HIV—from labs to terminology—and help them learn to communicate with their health care providers, serving as advocates for themselves.

What do you say to a woman who is newly diagnosed?

First, I try to offer hope. I try to let her know that this is not the end; this is not a death sentence. It is a chronic illness, and it is manageable.

We talk about where she is today. I try to look at her holistically—where is she living? Does she have a home? What are her basic needs? I can talk about meds and all that all day, but if you’re hungry, you need help for today.

But beyond this is the advocacy piece, which is very important to me. I let clients know how they can get help with housing—what plans and resources are available for people living with HIV/AIDS. If I’m dealing with a lady from Africa, then I may write letters concerning immigration on her behalf. We have a broad range of African immigrants in the clinic—from West Africa to South Africa.

What’s the most rewarding experience you’ve had at the Free Clinic?

I worked with an immigrant who knew nothing about HIV and English wasn’t his native language. Disclosure, adherence—he knew none of these words. I thought, “How do I educate this person for a lifetime of living with this disease?” I primarily used visuals—we drew a lot of pictures, and we were on the Internet a lot. It was about two months before he could recall the meds he was on—but today he knows. That was success. 

You’re involved with the Black Church Week of Prayer, an annual call to action aimed at expanding HIV/AIDS awareness in the African-American community through its churches. What’s your approach when you speak to church congregations about AIDS?

I raise the question of why we care about this disease. Why not talk about cancer, diabetes or something else? [The reason I give is that] HIV is the only disease that is associated with stigma. That is why we need to continue talking about it. I also challenge them to think outside the box. Even if they can’t put themselves in the position of a person living with HIV, they can still have compassion. Because people living with the disease don’t want your pity, but they do want your compassion.

Do you find that people are open to what you’re saying?

Yes, generally they are. In most of my speaking visits, the number one question people ask is, “How did you get it?” That’s what they’re curious about. I always tell my audience, “It doesn’t matter how you got it, because we all still feel the same.”

Are you ever in conflict with what your own church teaches?

I’m able to work it out. My church did a missions trip to Africa in July, and I broached the topic with our pastor. I know he believes in abstinence only, but I said, “Pastor, I would like to give the people of Africa the facts so that they can live long enough to get the message of Christ, rather than see them die.” He allowed me to talk about condoms. I appreciated that. There were between five and seven hundred people inside the church where I spoke—and some spilling out of it.

How did you get over your post-diagnosis depression?

During the three years that I was depressed, I wasn’t very effective. Then I decided I would either be bitter or better. I chose to be better.

I credit forgiveness with turning things around for me. I was married for fifteen years; we’re divorced now. I knew I was being faithful, but what I didn’t know was that he wasn’t. I thought, “Am I going to continue to punish the person who infected me?” But really, the forgiveness was for me.

What did you think of the HBO film, “Life Support,” in which Queen Latifah played an HIV-positive mother?

That was awesome. I think she really drew attention to people living with HIV and the different lives that we live. Her character struggled to separate the drug addict she had been from the mother she had become through life transitions. Some people, even in our support group here, talk about how HIV turned their lives upside down—but for the better. Of course no one asks for it, but HIV does put some on a right path, especially those dealing with other challenges, like substance use. And that was a message I got from the movie.

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