On a bright morning in Makurdi, the capital of Benue State, a quiet but urgent conversation was taking place. Journalists, editors, and health reporters had gathered in a modest hall, not to celebrate a victory, but to confront an uncomfortable truth: HIV has faded from the headlines, and that silence is dangerous. The training session, organized by Kids and Teens Resource Centre (K&TRC) in collaboration with SHOGDI and the Positive Health Media Initiative, was designed to remind the media of its power and responsibility in shaping how the public understands HIV. For years, the virus dominated global consciousness, driving fear, activism, and scientific breakthrough. But in recent times, coverage has dwindled, and with it, public attention. This decline, as participants were told, has created the false impression that HIV is no longer a real health threat. Nothing could be further from the truth. While new treatments have transformed the lives of many, the virus continues to affect communities, and stigma remains a stubborn barrier to prevention and care. Journalists, therefore, are being called back to the story — not with sensationalism or outdated fear tactics, but with renewed purpose, sharpened accuracy, and a deep commitment to human dignity. The gathering in Makurdi was not just a training; it was an invitation to rethink what ethical, compassionate HIV journalism looks like in today’s world.
At the heart of the discussions was a simple but powerful message about language. Martin-Mary Falana, the Executive Director of Kids and Teens Resource Centre, urged journalists to choose their words with care and intention. He emphasized the importance of using what he called “people-first language,” which means referring to “people living with HIV” rather than defining individuals by their diagnosis. This might seem like a small adjustment, but it carries profound weight. Language shapes perception, and the way a story is told can either reinforce stigma or dismantle it. Falana also encouraged reporters to explain the science of hope, particularly the U=U principle: Undetectable equals Untransmittable. This means that people living with HIV who are on effective treatment and maintain an undetectable viral load cannot sexually transmit the virus to others. It is a message of reassurance and empowerment, yet it remains widely misunderstood or unknown among the public. Journalists, he argued, have a duty to bring this information into everyday reporting, not as a footnote, but as a central part of the story. Falana also warned against sensational and fear-based reporting. Yes, HIV has no cure, he acknowledged, but antiretroviral therapy can suppress the virus to undetectable levels, allowing those infected to live long, healthy, and productive lives. The media must help people understand that HIV is a manageable chronic condition, not a death sentence. By framing reports around fear, journalists risk driving people away from testing, treatment, and honest conversations. What is needed instead is reporting that is truthful, clear, and deeply human.
The role of the media was further explored by Mrs. Anthonia Oladapo, Executive Director of the Positive Health Media Initiative. She reminded the assembled journalists that they are not passive transmitters of information, but active shapers of public understanding. In her view, the media has the power to build bridges or walls. When it comes to HIV, too many stories have been built on numbers alone — statistics about infection rates, prevalence patterns, and mortality data — without ever touching the lives behind those figures. Oladapo called for a shift. She urged journalists to go beyond the data and to include context, personal experience, and the voices of those most affected. Reporting should reflect the realities of people living with HIV: their challenges, their triumphs, their everyday struggles and hopes. This kind of journalism humanizes the issue and makes it impossible for the public to look away. Equally important, she said, is the protection of privacy and confidentiality. Journalists must never expose a source or reveal a person’s status without explicit consent. The fear of being identified has kept many people from seeking testing and treatment, and careless reporting can deepen that fear. Oladapo’s message was clear: ethical reporting is not just about accuracy; it is about respect, empathy, and the responsibility to do no harm. A journalist who treats a person’s health status with care is not only telling a story — they are helping to create an environment where more people feel safe to access the services they need.
The training also delved into the practical skills necessary for responsible journalism, particularly in the age of misinformation. Participants were coached on fact-checking techniques and reminded to rely on credible, authoritative sources such as the World Health Organization, UNAIDS, peer-reviewed research, and recognized health institutions. This might sound like basic advice, but in a media environment where viral claims often outpace verified facts, it is more relevant than ever. The consequences of inaccuracy in HIV reporting can be severe: myths about transmission, false cures, and misleading representations of treatment can cost lives. Attendees were encouraged to treat every statistic with skepticism, to verify claims before publication, and to seek out the expertise of public health officials and researchers. Yet, the training also stressed that facts alone are insufficient. A story can be technically correct and still fail its audience if it lacks nuance, cultural sensitivity, or an understanding of the structural forces that shape health outcomes. Journalists were urged to think about who is missing from their coverage: women, youth, rural communities, sex workers, men who have sex with men, and others whose voices are often excluded. By broadening the scope of sources and stories, the media can help ensure that responses to HIV are inclusive and leave no one behind. In this way, fact-checking is not just about avoiding error; it is about building trust with the public, one carefully reported story at a time.
The significance of the gathering was not lost on local media leaders. Chairman of the Nigeria Union of Journalists (NUJ), Benue State Council, Bemdoo Ugber, addressed the participants and praised the initiative. He thanked the organizers for creating a platform for reflection and learning, and expressed confidence that the training would have a lasting impact on reporting in the state. His words carried a sense of optimism, but also a challenge. If journalists leave the session with better note-taking skills or a few new statistics, the workshop will have failed. The real test, he suggested, will come in the weeks and months ahead — in the stories that are written, the sources that are consulted, and the language that is used. Ugber’s endorsement of the program is significant because it signals institutional buy-in from the media establishment, not just individual reporters. It also points to the possibility of a ripple effect: journalists who attended the training can mentor their colleagues, advocate for more thoughtful editorial policies, and push for HIV coverage to be treated with the seriousness it deserves. In a state like Benue, where health and social challenges are deeply intertwined, the role of the press cannot be overstated. The workshop was not an isolated event; it was part of a larger movement to reimagine how the media contributes to public health.
As the training came to an end, the journalists carried with them more than just notes and handouts. They carried a renewed sense of purpose. The story of HIV is not over, and it must not be allowed to fade from public consciousness. But the way that story is told matters immensely. It is no longer enough to report on HIV as a distant catastrophe or a moral lesson. The new face of HIV journalism is one of compassion, precision, and hope — one that recognizes the scientific advances that have changed the landscape while acknowledging the persistent gaps in access, ignorance, and stigma that remain. Journalists have a unique opportunity to shape the narrative. They can choose to be part of the problem by spreading fear and misinformation, or they can be part of the solution by presenting the facts clearly, respecting the dignity of every individual, and reminding the public that the fight against HIV is far from finished. The message from Makurdi is simple: revive awareness, protect privacy, use inclusive language, and tell the real stories of real people. In doing so, the media can help create a society where HIV is no longer a source of shame, but a manageable aspect of health care — and where every person, regardless of status, is treated with the humanity they deserve.