Honoured Among Many: A Reflection on Receiving the King Charles III Coronation Medal

What this moment means to me—and to the community that continues to shape me

I’ve always believed that recognition only matters if it reflects the community that helped shape you. That’s why being awarded the King Charles III Coronation Medal is not something I view as a personal achievement—it’s something I hold as a shared honour.

Earlier this year, I was selected by the Canadian AIDS Society as one of 75 individuals from the HIV sector to receive the Coronation Medal. I’m still trying to fully take that in.

It was created to mark the coronation of His Majesty King Charles III, with 30,000 medals distributed nationwide to acknowledge Canadians who have made significant contributions to their communities or the country. While that number might sound large, it represents less than one-tenth of one percent of the Canadian population—making it an extraordinary and rare recognition.

That I would be considered among them—let alone in the company of so many friends and colleagues I admire—is profoundly humbling.

This is not an award I ever expected to receive. My work in the HIV sector didn’t begin until after my diagnosis in 2015, and even then, I didn’t immediately see myself as an “activist.” In truth, it was community that pulled me in and kept me going—both in my personal healing and in the journey that followed.

What started as a personal story shared online slowly grew into something more. Through the years, I’ve leaned into roles that allowed me to speak up, create space, and challenge stigma—from developing the I Can Give U campaign, to serving as a CANFAR National Ambassador, to mentoring through the International AIDS Society. But none of it has ever felt like a solo act.

The people I’ve met—the ones who have lived this work for decades, and the new voices stepping into advocacy now—have shaped everything I do. Being included among the recipients of this honour means being seen alongside them. It’s about legacy, yes—but also about momentum.

That’s why I’m especially grateful to the Canadian AIDS Society for ensuring the HIV movement was visible in the nominations. It matters that we were included. That our history, our contributions, and our communities were acknowledged.

In reading the full list of recipients, I was struck by how many names I recognized. Not just names, but faces and hearts and stories—people who’ve supported me, inspired me, challenged me. And others I’ve yet to meet, but whose work has long rippled outward.

It was never just about the medal. It’s about what it symbolizes: that our work matters. That the HIV sector—with all its diversity, courage, and complexity—continues to shape this country for the better.

And truthfully, this recognition arrives at a time when we need to hold onto that. Because the challenges facing us are still very real—whether it’s the slow pace of HIV criminalization reform, the lack of sustained investment in community-led responses, or the ongoing stigma that too many of us still face.

I think of those who didn’t live long enough to be recognized in this way. The trailblazers whose voices were silenced too soon. The activists who never stopped fighting. The people who quietly changed lives in ways that awards will never capture.

And I think of those who are just beginning their journey into advocacy—who may not yet know the power they hold, or how urgently we need them.

This medal, for me, is a reminder. Of where we’ve been. Of what still needs to change. Of the deep responsibility we all carry—to continue the work, to tell the truth, to honour each other.

I’m proud of what I’ve contributed. But I’m prouder still of the people I stand alongside. We don’t do this work for medals. But when one comes along—especially one born of nomination by peers—it’s a moment to pause. To breathe. To feel the weight of it.

I’ll continue doing this work because it matters. Because U=U changed my life. Because the person I was ten years ago could never have imagined this path.

And because someone, somewhere, is still waiting to hear that they’re not alone. That their story matters. That there’s a place for them in this movement, too.

Thank you to those who saw fit to include my name. Thank you to everyone who continues to do the work, whether or not the world is watching.

Together, we build the kind of legacy worth honouring.

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The full list of recipients nominated by the Canadian AIDS Society can be found here: cdnaids.ca/king-charles-iii-coronation-medal
You can learn more about the medal and its history at canada.ca