In Spanish, we have a saying: “El pueblo salva al pueblo,” something like “the community saves the community.” I kept thinking about those words throughout USCHA 2026 in Anaheim, California.

I am a fundamental scientist at heart. I have spent my career studying how viruses cause disease in a petri dish. But at USCHA, I was reminded that behind every disease is a person, a story, and a community. Listening to people living with HIV and to people who have participated in clinical research changed how I see HIV and how I think about my own work in the field beyond the bench.

The stories shared by people living with HIV, and by those who have participated in clinical trials, were some of the most powerful moments of the conference. As scientists, we often focus on outcomes, data points, and study results. But hearing firsthand how HIV and HIV research shape people's daily lives reminded me that every data point represents a person.

I still remember when William took the microphone. He has been living with HIV for 26 years and shared how he was once told there were many things he could no longer do. Through resilience and courage, he showed that living with HIV did not prevent him from living a full life. He has since dedicated his life to supporting people living with HIV in his hometown.

I was also deeply moved by Luis, who participated in an analytical treatment interruption clinical trial. Luis did not experience viral rebound for more than a year. From a medical perspective, this was an incredible outcome. But from his perspective, the experience was much more complicated. He felt isolated, and building relationships was difficult. Ultimately, he decided to go back on treatment, not because he experienced viral rebound, but because his well-being was more important.

Their stories reminded me that success in HIV research cannot be measured only by scientific outcomes. We also have to consider quality of life, mental health, relationships, and the experiences of the people who make this research possible.

USCHA also reminded me of the power that words have. As a virologist, I was trained to describe viruses, cells, and diseases with technical precision. I was not taught how to talk about viruses with the people most affected by them.

No one teaches us that there is a huge difference between saying “people infected with HIV” and “people living with HIV.” In the lab, cells are infected with HIV. People are living with HIV.

While scientific language may be accurate in a research setting, when it carries over into conversations with communities, it can unintentionally reinforce stigma. Listening to people living with HIV describe how stigmatizing language can become a barrier to seeking treatment was both eye-opening and heartbreaking. More importantly, they were the ones advocating for changes in language based on their own lived experiences. I left feeling energized to advocate for more training on stigmatizing language among scientists and researchers.

But as the conference continued, I realized that changing the words we use is only the beginning. The bigger question is whether we are actually listening when communities tell us what they need.

USCHA reminded me of the power of communities to shape their own solutions. I was inspired by community-led efforts to build trust and create change, including the work of Latinx coalitions in places like Florida, where discussing certain topics can be challenging. Despite these barriers, communities came together to build the HIV workforce and expand access to HIV services. For example, I learned about efforts to build a Spanish-speaking HIV testing workforce to better serve Latinx communities.

These conversations reminded me that community engagement is not simply a box to check. Communities themselves often identify gaps, create solutions, and support one another when systems fall short.

As an immigrant who moved to the United States for college, these conversations felt especially meaningful to me. One important lesson was that migration goes far beyond undocumented status. Migrant communities include refugees, asylum seekers, newcomers, seasonal and circular migrants, and people in transit. Their experiences, needs, and barriers to healthcare are not the same, and our approaches to engagement cannot be one-size-fits-all.

I was struck by discussions about how policy is not only about what is written, but also about what people perceive. Even when individuals or family members are eligible for healthcare or social programs, fear and misunderstanding about potential immigration consequences may prevent them from seeking services.

These conversations reinforced the importance of culturally responsive and trauma-informed care, as well as the need to build trust with communities whose experiences with migration, discrimination, uncertainty, or violence may shape how they interact with healthcare systems. This session reminded me that meaningful community engagement begins with listening, understanding lived experiences, and meeting people where they are.

Lastly, one thing I appreciated about USCHA was its focus on Gen Z and how younger generations learn about HIV today. If we want Gen Z to know about HIV, we need to let them help lead the conversation.

Two Gen Z speakers shared findings from a GLAAD study and discussed the role social media plays in how young people learn about HIV. As someone who works in science communication, this really resonated with me. We cannot expect to reach new generations using only the same tools and approaches we have always used. We need to meet people where they are, listen to how they communicate, and create space for them to become part of the conversation.

I left USCHA with a stronger understanding that community must be at the center of HIV research and the work we do. Science and research matter, but so do the people who participate in them, advocate for them, communicate them, and bring them back to their communities.

I came to USCHA as a scientist who studies viruses. I left thinking more about the people who live with them.

El pueblo salva al pueblo - the community saves the community.