Catholic nuns in Vietnam bring compassion, care, and dignity to people with HIV as infections rise among gay and transgender communities.
Newsroom (25/02/2026 Gaudium Press ) By the time 23-year-old Vinh H. found the courage to seek help, he had already endured three years of silence. Once a computer science student, he had dropped out of university and drifted between temporary jobs — saving just enough to afford his medication. Like many young men living with HIV in Vietnam, he feared that a visit to a public clinic might expose his secret.
“I rarely visit my family now,” he said. “If they knew, they would be shocked and insult me terribly. I’m terrified of anyone knowing.”
When chronic infections and sleeplessness left him too weak to continue hiding, Vinh turned not to doctors, but to a trusted figure — St. Paul de Chartres Sister Josephine Huynh Thi Ly, who has spent 26 years caring for HIV/AIDS patients at Hue Central Hospital.
“I trust in her,” he said simply.
Faith on the front line
Sr. Josephine Ly and fellow sisters serve daily in some of Vietnam’s toughest hospital wards. They are nurses, counselors, confidants — and for many who come through the door, the first faces unclouded by judgment.
“After learning they are HIV-positive, many collapse emotionally,” Ly explained. “They fear abandonment, stigma, losing their jobs, and having their whole family looked down upon.”
Vietnam’s HIV landscape has changed. At a recent Ministry of Health briefing, Dr. Nguyen Luong Tam noted that over 80% of new infections now occur among men. Sexual transmission has far surpassed intravenous drug use, and infections among gay and transgender people rose by 7.2% last year alone. Synthetic drug use, group sex, and limited prevention outreach have deepened the crisis.
Since 1990, Vietnam has recorded 245,762 people living with HIV and 116,004 deaths. More than 13,000 new cases are detected each year — a figure that highlights both ongoing spread and the country’s testing gaps.
Quiet healers amid stigma
When Vinh arrived at Hue Central, Sr. Ly helped him access antiretroviral treatment and navigate the complex hospital system. She brought him food when he could not afford to eat and stayed by his side through the worst of his illness.
“Now my health is stable,” he said. “I even bring other young men to the sisters. Many won’t go on their own.”
Public health officials say stigma remains Vietnam’s greatest obstacle to ending AIDS by 2030. Dr. Doan Thi Thuy Linh of the National HIV Division called discrimination “one of the biggest challenges” to care. Many people avoid testing out of fear; others simply cannot afford it as funding declines. Nearly half of Vietnam’s HIV-prevention budget still relies on international aid, which is dropping rapidly.
Most of the sisters’ patients are between 25 and 29 — young men, drug users, or sex workers. Ly’s mission, she said, is not just medical but deeply human.
“We stay close, we listen, and we help them remove their shame,” she said. “Only then can healing begin.”
Beyond the hospital walls
Sr. Marie Nguyen Thi Hoa leads Niem Tin — “Faith” — a volunteer group of 15 people living with HIV who once received the sisters’ care. Now, they reach out to others like them, bringing information, emotional support, and pathways to community reintegration.
“We explain the disease, bring them to detox centers, and prevent transmission,” Hoa said. The sisters assist roughly 20 newly infected people every year, helping them find medical treatment and dignity.
For many, that care continues at home. The nuns and their volunteers visit patients weekly, help with hygiene, teach self-care, and guide those strong enough into small livelihoods: poultry raising, tailoring, or running local shops. “These activities give patients joy,” Hoa said. “They lessen the psychological shock.”
‘They make us feel wanted’
Twenty-four-year-old Kien N. from Quang Tri understands that shock all too well. After contracting HIV through multiple male partners, he faced open discrimination from clinic workers. “They made me wait until every other patient had been seen,” he recalled. The humiliation drove him to move to Hue, where he now works as a delivery driver and receives discreet care.
At the Kim Long Charity Clinic run by the Daughters of Mary of the Immaculate Conception, Kien found acceptance. Sr. Marie Magdalene Duong Thi Nguyet, who oversees the program, said that emotional pain often outweighs physical symptoms.
“We meet them every month, give food and medicine, and support them long-term,” she said. A team of 17 volunteers — Catholic, Protestant, Buddhist, and nonreligious — now helps care for 178 of Hue’s 587 known HIV patients.
They clean homes, bathe patients, and even prepare bodies for burial. Amid funding cuts, overseas partners have continued their modest support.
For many like Ho Thi C., who has lived with HIV for years, this compassion is a lifeline. “They talk with us, listen to us, and understand things we’ve never been able to tell anyone,” she said. “They are the only ones who come when no one else will.”
Hope in a hidden war
As Vietnam’s HIV epidemic enters a new and more complex phase, its quiet warriors wear habits instead of hospital coats. These sisters tend wounds that medicine alone cannot touch — the deep scars of stigma and isolation.
“They help us, who are seen as invisible numbers,” said Ho Thi. “They make us believe our lives are still worthy.”
- Raju Hasmukh with files from UCA News
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