30/09/2026
Un témoignage émouvant encore une fois.
🇺🇸 My mom, Deborah Denise Williams, was a beautiful, free-spirited woman, who lived life on her own terms. As her son, we share that in common. My mom had a very difficult upbringing, raised by my grandma, who didn’t have a healthy relationship with my mom.
Deborah was a typical wild child, dropped out of high school, dating older men, and just roaming the streets. From the stories I’ve been told by my uncle, my mom’s older brother, my grandma was very cold and nonchalant bout my mother’s reckless ways.
Being born in 95, I saw two sides to my mom: the beautiful, kind, and loving side but I also sensed the darkness and hidden sadness. Deborah was addicted to crack and led a promiscuous life, which at some point, she contracted AIDS.
As a kid, I was aware my mom was hospitalized on several occasions and I had stay with my uncle Aaron on the weekends but I wasn’t educated about HIV. Aside from that, she did her best to make sure I had toys, video games and just have a happy childhood, something I think she never had.
Career-wise, my mom didn’t have a legitimate job but she hustled by selling b**r and liquor on our front porch in the Bankhead area of Atlanta on Fox Street.
My childhood was a blend of joyful moments and tragedy. When I felt depressed and alone, I often internalized my feelings because I knew my mom wasn't in the greatest head space, so when it came to the kids bullying and teasing me or had tons of homework to do, I had to adjust and push through every day.
After losing my grandma to lung cancer in 2003 (age 😎, I lost my uncle Junior in the spring of 2006, he was addicted to drugs and paint thinners, dying from a brain bleed.
As I was transitioning from elementary to middle school, my mom started to get really sick. One day, her friends and my uncle Aaron came to check on her, I noticed something different bout my mom's appearance. She looked so frail and I couldn't react how I felt. I started attending middle school in the fall and living with my uncle Aaron and his family.
Deeply concerned, I wanted to see my mom so my uncle took me to the AIDS hospice floor and I was so confused and shocked how sick she gotten.
On September 29th 2006, my mom passed away from AIDS related complications on my uncle Aaron’s birthday. At her funeral, I cried so much because I loved my mom so much and to this day, I still miss my mom.
After losing my mom to AIDS at the age of 11, something in me felt broken on the inside. As a teenager and young adult, I was a bit rebellious, not in roaming the streets kind of way, but not respecting adults like I should. Like my mom, I was sleeping around with a different man almost every month and going to gay bars as I started to grow comfortable in my sexuality. I knew I was different in my youth but I didn’t have the language to describe it.
It wasn’t until I was 16 and I came out to my uncle Aaron, who always been a sounding board and father in my life. I continued in a self destructive path until I contracted HIV in 2019. Learning my status and how it destroyed my parents to their demise, rocked my core and I needed to learn my self worth.
Today, while I still battle a few insecurities, I’m a lot more stronger and confident than I was in my naive youthful years. If my mom was here today, I believe she would’ve been proud of the resilient, brave young man I have grown and continue to grow into. I carry my mom’s spirit within each and every day.
Between healing and overcame my childhood insecurities and traumas, fighting against homophobia and the stigma of being HIV positive, I’m a strong, resilient and fearless person because I don’t let life’s challenges and dark times bring me down. I love you my mommy. 📖 by Dionta Williams
