Jenny Boyce was there at the very beginning. One of AHF’s earliest patients in South Africa—and globally—she is patient number 21. Today, an HIV activist and AHF client, Jenny is featured in our I Am AHF series, highlighting people who do what’s right to save lives every day.
In the late 1990s, my life changed in an instant. A routine blood test for life insurance revealed the unimaginable—I had HIV. I remember the doctor saying, “You have AIDS,” and everything went blank. At that time, fear, stigma, and discrimination around AIDS were everywhere, and the diagnosis felt like a death sentence. As a community activist dedicated to HIV prevention I was suddenly facing the very reality I had been trying to help others avoid.
I immersed myself into my work, caring for people who were dying of AIDS while completely ignoring my own diagnosis. I lost family members to the disease, and each loss was a painful reminder of what I believed was my own fate. Still, I refused to confront my illness. That denial lasted until my health collapsed. I developed tuberculosis and pneumonia and ended up hospitalized in critical condition. I should have died then. But it wasn’t meant to be. After ten days in a non-responsive state, doctors sent me home to die with dignity—but my family refused to give up and fought to keep me alive.
It was during this time that my path crossed with AHF. In South Africa, antiretroviral therapy was scarce, especially for people without money. AHF became my lifeline. When I learned about AHF, I signed up immediately. Diana Hoorzuk, a longtime AHF board member from South Africa and member of my community, urged me to seek treatment at the clinic. In March 2002, my husband and I both started treatment at the AHF Ithembalabantu—The People’s Hope—clinic in Umlazi.
I will never forget my first visit. I was extremely ill, and walking into that clinic felt like my last hope. The room carried the smell of death, and I was anxious and desperately thirsty. But when our names were called, we were met with such kindness, empathy, and love that I felt hope for the first time in a long while. The change came quickly—my energy returned, my skin healed, and the rest, as I say, is history. More than 22 years later, I am still here. I am a survivor.
AHF didn’t just save my life—it changed how I saw healthcare workers and people living with HIV, including myself. My second life, my second chance, began in that clinic. It wasn’t just treatment; it was care, hope, and joy in that room. I am eternally grateful.
Being patient number 21 among more than 2 million people whose lives have been transformed by AHF means everything to me. At that time, antiretroviral therapy was confusing, frightening, and often completely inaccessible because of cost. Walking into the Umlazi clinic truly felt like my last chance. I wanted to live. I was desperate to stay alive.
My experience with AHF strengthened my commitment to my community. I continued my activism with renewed purpose, using my story to encourage others. I tell people that testing and starting treatment can save your life. Over time, I became someone people trusted with their own stories, and I was able to guide them to AHF for quality care, regardless of their ability to pay.
Today, as a grandmother, I continue to live with purpose. I have a 20-year-old grandson and recently welcomed a new granddaughter. My family sees my determination every day. I may struggle with energy at times, but I make the most of every waking hour. I serve with humility and lead with confidence.
My message to women—especially those living with HIV—is this: love yourself so fiercely that nothing, not even yourself or others, can cause you harm. Disclosure is freedom. Own your status, walk in confidence, and close the gap on stigma. AHF gave me that lifeline, and for that, I will always be grateful.
