"My mom was shocked. It was already hard for her when I told her I was gay," says the man who contracted HIV. How did he cope with the diagnosis that changed his life?
Oliver Mynář, a young man living with HIV who decided to share his experience without simplifications and shortcuts, wrote to the editorial board of LUI magazine. His participation in the World AIDS Day campaign in France, where he made his first public appearance as HIV positive, led him to this interview.
Today, moreover, he is pursuing a career as a psychiatrist, and thus sees his topic not only personally, but also in the broader context of mental health and how society still perceives the disease.
In the interview, he reflects back on the moment he learned of his diagnosis and what followed afterwards. He describes, for example, the period of several months when he waited to reach an undetectable viral load - a time he describes as one of the most psychologically challenging in his life. It was then that he fully realised the importance of the N = N (undetectable = non-transmittable) principle, which he now considers crucial not only for his own life but also for the destigmatisation of HIV.
In addition to his own story, he also opens up topics that are still rather marginally discussed in the Czech environment - from the psychological impact to experiences with the health system to the persistent stigma. He also describes the pressure and insecurity associated with the idea of always having to disclose one's status, and contrasts this experience with France, where he says there is a more open and practical approach and a more informed community.
He also speaks openly about the reactions of those around him - from misunderstanding in his family to his experience of online dating, where he was met with morbid curiosity rather than respect. He reminds us that the infection was not the result of a "risky lifestyle", as many people think, but in a relationship that was burdened by psychological and physical violence. These moments, he says, show how strongly HIV is still associated with prejudices that do not correspond to reality.
What prompted you to write to us and share your story?
I think that this topic is still not talked about enough and that it is still heavily stigmatized. I think the only way to change it is to break the silence and start talking about it openly. I was also inspired by foreign magazines, for example in France, where people share their experiences quite openly. Honestly, I never thought of doing something similar in the Czech Republic before. But then I thought - why not. And so I spontaneously wrote to you, as well as to Martin Bisek, the man behind the Gay Guys podcast.
What was your idea of the disease before you met it? There are still a lot of myths about it in society. How did you feel about it?
I was a medical student at the time. I was only in my second year, so my knowledge wasn't complete, but I already had some awareness. At the same time, I was dating an HIV-positive partner, so I had personal experience of a relationship where one of us was positive and yet there was no transmission. So I was quite well informed about the issue.
How did you get the diagnosis? Or when did you first suspect it? Was it during regular testing, or were there already symptoms?
I tested regularly. My ex-partner and I had a trip abroad planned, twice. First it was to Istanbul, where I caught HIV through unprotected sex with an unknown man, and a month later to Morocco, where the first suspicious symptoms appeared. I had diarrhoea that was not stopping and at the same time not responding to any treatment, so I decided to go to the emergency room in Bulovka on my return to the Czech Republic. Here I was hospitalized for two weeks, receiving infusions and antibiotics, and at the end they gave me the verdict that I was HIV positive.
When the verdict came - how did you feel? What emotions did the diagnosis evoke in you?
The first feelings are hard to describe. All the time I was hoping that it was just some parasitic infection and that it wasn't HIV. Moreover, the diagnosis was communicated to me in a rather strange way, when immediately after I was informed of my diagnosis I was told that from now on I would only be able to have sexual intercourse with a condom. In retrospect, I think that after such a diagnosis was given, this information was absolutely irrelevant. I wish that at the time the doctors had rather told me that with the right treatment I would be able to have a life like anyone else.
What was going through your mind at the time?
After I was discharged from the hospital, I struggled with intense feelings of guilt, anger at myself and questions like "why me". Concerns about the future also came to the fore - what the diagnosis would mean for my intimate life and how, when and to whom to communicate it. Although I had a relatively good understanding of HIV treatment and the principle of non-infectivity in the face of an undetectable viral load, the reality was different. Suddenly I felt the weight of social stereotypes and stigmas associated with HIV. My main concern was that no one should know about the diagnosis - especially not my medical school classmates.
I was also concerned about the reaction of those around me. I was afraid that if my HIV status became public knowledge, I would face judgement and stigma. At the same time, I doubted my future in the medical profession. In hindsight, I was surprised when I re-read the informed consent for HIV patients - some crucial facts had not been brought to my attention at all. For example, the available materials lacked clear information about the (non-)existence of an obligation to disclose one's status to sexual partners.
The fact that in 2025, during the World AIDS Day campaign in France, I publicly stated that there was such an obligation in the Czech Republic, in my opinion, eloquently shows how poorly people are informed about their rights and obligations. I believe that I am far from the only one who has lived with the constant fear of possible legal consequences and social condemnation. Moreover, the emphasis on individual cases of prosecution of HIV-positive people still dominates the public sphere, while the popularisation of medical progress and efforts to destigmatise remain rather in the background.
Let's go back to the time just after you caught HIV. Did you feel anxiety or fear at the time? Did you seek professional help, perhaps psychotherapy?
I had a bad experience with a psychologist at the time. He basically told me I shouldn't tell my parents.
What made him do that?
He thought parents should be spared. He also said he didn't understand how this could happen to me when I had enough information. But I'd been to him before, so it was more complicated than that. Plus, he was my ex-partner's psychologist.
Did he side with him?
Yes, I had that feeling. Like he was more on his side and I felt more rejected in the relationship.
Isn't that a paradox? After all, he was a psychologist who worked with HIV-positive people.
That's what struck me as odd. He was working with positive people, but his approach seemed very outdated. In therapy, he often put me in a role in relation to my ex-partner instead of focusing on me. When I discussed it with other therapists afterwards, they agreed that it wasn't quite right.
What were the first weeks after diagnosis like? It takes a while to get into an undetectable state after starting antiretroviral treatment. How long did it take for you?
It's very individual. Because it was a fresh infection for me, I had a high viral load initially and had to protect myself. Of course, I was very careful not to infect anyone. I got to an undetectable state after about six months on antiretroviral therapy.
Was it hard for you to hide it?
It was. I remember being sent home from the hospital and I was figuring out how to take my medication without anyone noticing. I was a medical student at the time, living with roommates who were studying the same field, and yet I kept it a secret from them. It was strange to have something that I didn't actually have to hide, and yet I hid it. And it was a burden.
Who was the first person you finally told?
First my then-boyfriend, who I had also just broken up with, found out. I didn't have any close friends at the time, so that was my only support at the time, even though there was a big disagreement about the breakup going on at the same time. He responded very well and was actually glad I confided in him. In retrospect, I realize that sharing a secret with someone can foster the creation of close relationships that I missed so much at the time. It also allowed me to detach from my ex-boyfriend. Later, I started a new relationship and opened up there too - and the response was again positive. But I didn't tell my parents until much later. First to my mom, my parents are divorced, and about a year later to my dad. Although I'm otherwise a pretty open person, it took me a really long time in this one.
How did your family and friends react?
The reaction from friends was mostly good. With my parents, of course, it's more sensitive. My mom was very shocked at first. It was already hard for her once when I told her I was gay years ago. And the fact that she doesn't have any homosexuals in her circle made the experience all the more powerful for her. So that was another hard message for her.
Have you had a downright negative reaction?
The negative reactions came more from people who didn't know me than from people close to me. Mostly in situations involving dating or potential sexual partners.
So let's get to those situations. How did people react when you were in close contact with them, even intimate contact?
I tried different approaches because I wasn't sure when was the right time to say it. A few times I wanted to be honest right at the beginning. I remember I met someone, I told them - and the person just up and left. He said he couldn't have anything to do with me. That kind of situation happened again and again. Sometimes the people left right away, sometimes it gradually fizzled out. And even in the cases where I didn't say it, I felt that if it came up, it would have turned out the same way.
Did you try to explain the principle of "undetectable = non-transferable" to these people?
I didn't quite have it down myself in the beginning. And I think that's the main problem - it's one thing for a doctor to tell you it's non-transmissible in the case of an undetectable viral load, but it's another to actually believe it. When I was in France, the "N = N" campaign was very visible there, it was even on posters. It's not as widespread in the Czech Republic. And there is another level - you have to convince yourself, not just the other person.
What conclusion did you come to in this respect? How did you go about it?
I gradually came to the conclusion that if I want to have uncommitted sex, I can't say it openly.
So you were met with rejection in most cases?
Yes, I have. Either people left or I felt like they would have left if they knew. Then there's the dating experience. When I've written or mentioned it, some have rejected me outright. There's often wording like "I'm looking for a healthy partner" which is problematic enough in itself.
How do you perceive this "healthy" label?
Honestly, the idea doesn't make much sense to me. I see it more as a feeling construction - a kind of illusion of safety or an ingrained habit. It is based on the false assumption that a person living with HIV is automatically infectious. In fact, transmission most often occurs in people who are unaware of their diagnosis and would therefore answer in the affirmative when asked about their health status. At the same time, it is important to remember that even a recent negative test is not indicative of current status, as it does not pick up a possible infection at an early stage.
Conversely, a person who knows about his or her diagnosis usually approaches the situation responsibly - protecting him or herself initially and considering further steps individually once an undetectable viral load has been reached. For me personally, however, it was very uncomfortable to answer such questions. I perceived them as indirect pressure: either to disclose my diagnosis, even though I was not prepared to do so, or to resort to untruth. This is a highly intimate area. From the beginning, I felt that society automatically expected me to disclose my HIV status to everyone, and this added to the pressure.
How do you feel about the way HIV is communicated in the public space?
I think there is a big difference between what the science says and how people actually perceive it. I have seen campaigns in the Czech Republic that stress that an HIV-positive person can live a normal life or that they are not infectious.
But I feel that it often stays on the surface and people don't delve deeper into it. I think it would be helpful if there was communication that gave people more confidence and explained it more clearly - perhaps based on specific studies that show that transmission does not occur with an undetectable viral load.
Did you start to feel more fear or anxiety about STDs after your diagnosis?
I think that's another big topic. There is a stigma attached to HIV and everyone deals with it differently. Some people stop having sex altogether. Others, on the other hand, start to live a riskier life because they feel that "it doesn't matter anymore". And then there are those who slip into drugs or chemsex. For me, the problem was more that I felt I was on my own. The doctor said to me: you have a diagnosis, here are the drugs. But nobody told me how to live with it.
You also have experience of France, where you were studying at the time of your diagnosis. How do you think it's different abroad than in the Czech Republic?
In France, I was involved in the support groups I mentioned earlier. There are a number of organisations that work systematically with people living with HIV - they organise meetings, create space for sharing experiences and various community activities. I met people from different parts of the world, especially from Africa and Latin America, men and women, heterosexuals and homosexuals. It was very valuable for me to meet such a diverse group of people with different life stories.
Discussions in these groups often went beyond the topic of HIV itself and raised broader social issues - from racism to the workings of patriarchal societies to ways of defending oneself in situations of sexual or physical violence. A crucial role for me was played by psychologist and sexologist Caroline Janvre, with whom I gradually became close during the groups and later co-facilitated them. It was through her that I was able to gradually deconstruct the stigma associated with HIV and begin to see my own story in a different, less burdensome context.
What do you think should change in the Czech Republic to improve the situation?
While studying medicine in the Czech Republic, we were taught not to discriminate against patients. However, the topic of sexual minorities or the stigma associated with certain diagnoses was practically not raised in this context. On the contrary, during my teaching I repeatedly encountered homophobic remarks and a moralising attitude which, in my opinion, does not belong in medicine.
At the same time, it is important to remember that establishing relationships in the gay community is not easy in itself and that no one - let alone a doctor - should interfere in or evaluate the intimate life of patients. As a recent graduate, I can also confirm that even doctors often do not follow the principles of a healthy lifestyle as consistently as one might expect. Their approach reflects not only their professional training but also their personal experience, upbringing or temperament. While medical education undoubtedly has the advantage of providing the tools to make more informed decisions, it should not lead to a feeling of superiority. Doctors sometimes forget that they themselves had only a limited knowledge of health before studying.
I consider it crucial to strengthen education - both on homophobia and HIV stigma. It is equally important to systematically support organisations that address these issues. For example, when I asked my infectious disease specialist about the existence of support groups, I was told that there was no interest in them. It is the social dimension of living with HIV that is so often neglected.
I believe that the reality may be the opposite - people tend to deal with their situation more individually and lack the space to share. Creating a safe environment where they can meet, share experiences and not be alone would therefore make sense. If any of the readers with the same experience are interested in creating such a community together, feel free to contact me.
So far, we've talked mostly about casual sex. But what's it like when a relationship is brewing? How are you doing with relationships?
I'm single right now, so feel free to write. (laughs)
Seriously though, I had a short relationship in France and the guy responded well. I think it's a little bit different in a relationship - when someone falls in love with you or wants to be with you, they're more likely to accept it. But at the same time, I realised one thing that we also addressed in the support group. I tended to push myself into a relationship because it seemed like the only way to be open with someone.
With casual sex, I felt like I couldn't say it, so I kept it to myself. At the same time, I was afraid that the other person would somehow find out. So the relationship was, to some extent, an escape for me. In retrospect, though, I'm not sure if I was really ready for the relationship, or if I wasn't in it mainly because the other person accepted my HIV. Ideally, that should have played no part in the relationship.
What advice would you give to a person who is newly diagnosed, afraid to come out, and experiencing anxiety or depression, for example?
I'm a future psychiatrist, so feel free to come to me. (Laughs) But I wouldn't rule out the possibility of depression. In my case, I was already prone to it before, I just didn't admit it, and this experience may amplify it. Mental health is still a stigmatized topic, and when combined with HIV it can multiply. At the same time, it doesn't mean that every HIV positive person will have mental health problems.
On the contrary, I would like to add some hope. For me, it also brought positive things - new friends, a relationship that was fulfilling at the time. Society often thinks of well-known stories like Freddie Mercury or Charlie Sheen and associates it with drugs or the downfall of life. But I would like to point out that it doesn't have to be that way. I live a relatively orderly life and I think it's important to say that it can happen to anyone. And that even with this diagnosis we can live full and happy lives. We have the right to do that.
Aren't you worried that you might face stigma among your colleagues when you start as a psychiatrist?
That remains to be seen when it comes out.
Have you experienced stigma from doctors as a patient? This is a topic that comes up quite often in the Czech Republic.
Yes, and I think it's important to confront it. But doctors are still part of society, so to some extent they reflect its settings. I don't want to excuse them, but it shows what prejudices still exist in society. You can come across a doctor who is professional and understands the situation, but you can also come across someone who is influenced by their own ideas. I'd like to see more of this talked about outside the community so that it reaches the wider society.
Do you think more education towards doctors would also help?
Absolutely. I think change needs to come from the outside as well. In France, for example, non-profit organisations organise training for dentists and other health professionals. I think it would make sense here too. I have personal experience, for example, that my dentist always books me in for the last appointment. I still feel that there is a certain distance and stigma in society.
