Night owl. GloRilla superfan. HIV survivor. Carma Bell Marshall contains multitudes, and she does so with bright eyes and a dynamite smile. A Black trans woman, she navigates through a “salacious political landscape” as program coordinator for Louisville Youth Group, co-chair of the Transgender Wellness Coalition, and the likeliest to belt a Hairspray track at karaoke.

In March, you may have heard Marshall added “woman who visited a bathroom and made headlines” to her repertoire, at the Kentucky State Capitol for the Trans Joy Party and Visibility March. All politics are local, she says, and everything happens for a reason.

“The community we’ve worked on and created here in Louisville has done a lot to make me feel seen and empowered,” she said. “My own step into political work was abrupt. I was trying to come out of my depression.”

Marshall initially attended a support group meeting and shared a little about herself. Afterward, a fellow member reached out to her on Facebook and encouraged her to start a group for people of color.

“I became the founder of Fem Club, which is a support group for trans-femme individuals here in Louisville, Kentucky, that has a BIPOC leadership, which then led me to my partner. And we created The Village, which is a mentorship program for gender-diverse youth of color.”

A day of Marshall doing what she loves begins with sleeping in, if possible, before immersing herself in advocacy. She starts the day with her partner Alexander, with whom she’s saving up to start a family.

“We are both trans and conscious about choosing gender-neutral names,” she said of their future child. “We’ve chosen the name Taylor Avery Griggs. ‘Taylor’ comes from my side of the family, an older brother who passed before I was born. ‘Avery’ is my father’s name. He has been my biggest supporter. And ‘Griggs’ comes from Alexander’s side. A little bit of both of us.”

A Kentucky native, Marshall describes home as “a place that you can breathe easy.” She was born in Louisville and grew up in Shelbyville, a graduate of Shelby County High School – “Go, Rockets!” – and her family is what keeps her here.

 “I feel like I have been blessed, and I am privileged for someone in our community, especially as a person of color, that my family is very accepting and loving and supports me in my life and my decisions,” she said. As the program coordinator for Louisville Youth Group, Marshall structures activities and events for members 5 through 24 years old.

“The joy on those kids’ faces, the evaluations they write following group meetings, seeing them leaving with smiles,” she said. “That’s a day of doing what I love, spending it with the people I care about and having an impact on the world.”

It wasn’t always clear to Marshall what her purpose was. In the early days of her diagnosis with HIV, Marshall said she endured several very difficult, dark months of isolation and negative self-talk.

“I hadn’t realized I was even exposed,” she said, noting that more than 1 in 10 people who have HIV don’t know it. “I was taken by surprise, which is why it’s so important that people make sure they know their status.”

The timing of her diagnosis happened to coincide with Marshall’s epiphany of her trans self.

“Here I am battling extreme dysphoria, then all of a sudden I get rocked with my diagnosis,” she said. “I was spending six to eight hours alone in my bathroom with the lights off – with the shower running, steaming my mirror so I didn’t have to look at myself in the mirrors. I could just be in a dark, isolated space listening to whatever music I wanted to listen to at the time … which probably wasn’t helping with my mindset. I did that for almost a year. That was my life. Work, bathroom, sleep. Work, bathroom, sleep. That was all I did.”

As for how her diagnosis has evolved with her, Marshall has come to a place of assessing how it serves her. She realized hiding herself away from the world wasn’t benefiting her, and it wasn’t benefiting the world either.

“Anybody could be experiencing what I’m experiencing,” she said. “If being open and honest about this and how I’m dealing with it can help somebody, then we’re going to do that. That’s how we’re going to turn lemonade out of these lemons.”

And there are lemons aplenty, with considerable stigma and misinformation tethered to HIV and those living with it.

“Even with people who say they love and care about you, a lot of the times, saying it’s unconditional, there are still conditions there,” she said. “I have had loved ones when I’ve told them, the very first question out of their mouth is, ‘There’s no way for me to get it, right?’ And we still have the environment of, ‘Are you clean?’ As if somebody with an autoimmune disorder is not a clean person. I’m clean! I take baths. I shower. If we want to keep it real, if we want to keep it one-hundred one-hundred, are you clean, honey? Are you tested on the regular that I’m tested?”

Marshall wants people to realize her diagnosis is just a diagnosis.

“It is just something we are going to innately have with us as we traverse and live our lives. It’s a very small piece. Don’t let that diagnosis become the person. Let the person just walk with their diagnosis.”

As for navigating visibility, choosing whether to disclose her status, Marshall describes the process as ever evolving.

“In the beginning, the only ones who knew were my mother and father,” she said. “I had a roommate for almost ten years, and that roommate didn’t know until the last two years of our living together. I wasn’t ready for people to know.”

Marshall has found a considerable benefit in people truly understanding why she’s come to certain perspectives and stances she takes.

“People don’t come to understand the full totality of myself as a person, if I’m not letting them see certain pieces of me,” she said. “I’ve had moments where someone says they’re HIV-positive, and they talk about it from a place of negativity where they’re depressed or they feel they don’t have the community they know they belong to and want to live in. We’re that cousin that y’all never know that always shows up to the family reunion. They know they’re part of this family. They want to be seen and for people to remember their names, so at the next cookout, you’ll say their name and not just call them cousin.”

What shame is there then, Marshall asked? 

“I’m stepping into the light,” she said. “I was dealt some shitty cards. It wasn’t like I was going out searching for this. Nobody asks for this. It ostracizes you so much from the world and a little while from yourself, and then you start questioning yourself and your ability to take care of yourself: how did you let it get here, a place where now you have a virus? Who makes that conscious decision though? Nobody would.”

She said she wants everyone living with HIV to step into their light and own their value. Her positive status now propels her forward, helping her serve others with firsthand understanding and a shared urgency for representation and protection.

“I couldn’t find longevity staying in my proverbial bathroom,” she said. “That’s not where I’m going to find value and the ability to contribute. We have to get out and show people like myself there is more to this life. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

Marshall can be found on Facebook at facebook.com/carma.bell.marshall and Instagram at @law_of_carma. The Transgender Wellness Coalition can be found here and Facebook as well.