People with hepatitis C don’t die from the virus alone. They die from silence. From shame. From being treated like a mistake instead of a patient.
In New Zealand, over 20,000 people live with hepatitis C. Most don’t know it. Of those who do, many hide it. Not because they’re embarrassed to be sick-but because they’re terrified of being judged. Of being called a drug user. A drunk. A liar. A failure. Even when they got it from a blood transfusion in the 1980s, or from a tattoo in a shop that didn’t follow hygiene rules, or from a needlestick injury at work. The stigma doesn’t care about how you got it. It only cares that you have it.
Why Hepatitis C Carries So Much Shame
The stigma around hepatitis C didn’t start with facts. It started with fear. In the 1990s, when the virus was still poorly understood, the media linked it almost exclusively to injecting drug use. Headlines screamed about "junkies" and "dirty needles." The truth? Only about 40% of new cases in New Zealand today are tied to injecting drugs. The rest come from unsafe medical procedures, unsterile tattoos, or even childbirth. But the image stuck.
Doctors, nurses, and even family members sometimes treat people with hepatitis C differently. One woman in Wellington told me she was refused a routine dental cleaning because the hygienist said she "didn’t feel safe." Another man in Christchurch said his employer asked him to resign after he disclosed his diagnosis-even though he had no symptoms and wasn’t contagious at work. These aren’t rare stories. They’re everyday realities.
Stigma doesn’t just hurt feelings. It stops people from getting tested. It delays treatment. It pushes people into isolation. And when people avoid care, the virus spreads. It’s a cycle: fear leads to silence, silence leads to transmission, transmission leads to more fear.
How Treatment Changed Everything-But Stigma Didn’t
Before 2016, hepatitis C treatment was brutal. Interferon injections caused severe depression, fatigue, and flu-like symptoms for up to a year. Success rates? Barely 50%. Many people gave up. Others never started.
Today, it’s completely different. Direct-acting antivirals (DAAs) cure over 95% of people in just 8 to 12 weeks. No injections. No hospital stays. No side effects worth mentioning. A single pill, once a day. And it’s free in New Zealand for everyone, no matter their background or history.
So why aren’t more people getting treated?
Because stigma still blocks the door.
People don’t go to clinics because they’re afraid of being stared at. They skip blood tests because they don’t want to hear the word again. They avoid talking to partners because they think they’ll be rejected. Some even throw away their medication because they believe they "don’t deserve" to be cured.
One nurse in Auckland told me she had a patient who’d been diagnosed in 2019 but didn’t start treatment until 2024. Why? He said: "I thought if I took the medicine, it meant I was admitting I was still using drugs. And I wasn’t. I hadn’t used in 15 years. But I didn’t think anyone would believe me."
Breaking the Silence: What Works
Change doesn’t come from laws alone. It comes from stories. From voices that say: "I have hepatitis C. And I’m still me."
Organizations like Hepatitis New Zealand and the Aotearoa Hepatitis C Support Network have started peer-led support groups. People who’ve been cured talk to those still waiting. They share meals. They go for walks. They answer questions without judgment. And something shifts. People start to feel seen.
One program in Dunedin trained baristas to recognize signs of liver disease and offer free coffee to anyone who asked for "a liver check." No forms. No questions. Just: "You look like you could use a warm drink."
It sounds simple. But in a world where people with hepatitis C are often treated like they’re invisible, a warm drink becomes an act of rebellion.
Healthcare workers are learning too. In Auckland, clinics now use non-judgmental language in every form. Instead of "Do you inject drugs?" they ask: "Have you ever shared needles or equipment?" Instead of "Are you clean?" they say: "Have you been treated for hepatitis C before?"
These aren’t just word changes. They’re mindset shifts. And they’re working. Since 2020, the number of people starting treatment in New Zealand has more than doubled.
What You Can Do-Even If You Don’t Have Hepatitis C
You don’t need to be a doctor or a policymaker to help break the stigma. You just need to speak up.
- If someone tells you they have hepatitis C, don’t flinch. Say: "I’m sorry you’ve had to go through that. What can I do to help?"
- If you hear someone say "those people" or "drug addicts" in relation to hepatitis C, speak up. Say: "Most people get it without using drugs. It’s a virus, not a moral failure."
- Share a story. Post about World Hepatitis Day on July 28. Tag your local clinic. Ask your GP if they offer free testing.
- Don’t assume. Someone you know-your coworker, your neighbor, your cousin-could be living with hepatitis C right now. They might not tell you. But they’re waiting for someone to make it safe to speak.
Stigma thrives in silence. It dies in conversation.
Where to Get Help-No Judgment, No Wait
If you think you might have hepatitis C, get tested. It’s quick. It’s free. It’s confidential.
- Visit your GP. Ask for a hepatitis C blood test. No reason needed.
- Go to a sexual health clinic. They test for hepatitis C as part of routine screening.
- Call Hepatitis New Zealand on 0800 437 777. They’ll connect you with a peer supporter or help you find a clinic near you.
- Text or chat online through the Hepatitis C Support Network. You can talk anonymously.
If you’ve already been diagnosed: you’re not alone. You’re not broken. You’re not a burden. You’re someone who can be cured. And you deserve care-no matter how you got here.
Myths vs. Reality: The Truth About Hepatitis C
Let’s clear up the biggest lies.
| Myth | Reality |
|---|---|
| Hepatitis C only affects drug users. | Only 40% of cases in NZ are linked to injecting drugs. Many got it from medical procedures, tattoos, or unknown sources. |
| You can catch it from casual contact. | No. You can’t get it from hugging, kissing, sharing food, or using the same toilet. |
| It’s not a big deal-it’s just liver damage. | Left untreated, it can lead to cirrhosis, liver cancer, or death. But it’s 95% curable with modern treatment. |
| If I’m cured, I can’t get it again. | You can be reinfected. Protection still matters. |
| Only older people have it. | People in their 20s and 30s are being diagnosed now, often from unsafe tattoos or needle-sharing. |
Frequently Asked Questions
Can I pass hepatitis C to my children?
It’s possible, but rare. If a mother has hepatitis C, there’s about a 5% chance she’ll pass it to her baby during birth. There’s no risk from breastfeeding unless the nipples are cracked and bleeding. Treatment before pregnancy can reduce this risk to nearly zero.
Is hepatitis C the same as hepatitis B or HIV?
No. Hepatitis C is a different virus. Unlike HIV, it doesn’t attack your immune system. Unlike hepatitis B, it doesn’t usually become a lifelong infection. And unlike both, it can be cured with pills in under three months. You can’t get hepatitis C from sex alone unless there’s blood involved.
Do I need to tell my partner I have hepatitis C?
You’re not legally required to, but it’s wise. Hepatitis C is not easily spread through sex. But if you’re having rough sex, sharing sex toys, or have open sores, there’s a small risk. Being open helps your partner get tested and reduces fear. Most partners react with support-not shock.
Can I still work if I have hepatitis C?
Absolutely. You can work in any job-healthcare, food service, teaching, construction. Hepatitis C isn’t spread through casual contact. Employers cannot legally fire you or refuse to hire you because of it. If they do, you can file a discrimination complaint with the Human Rights Commission.
What if I’m not sure how I got it?
It doesn’t matter. You don’t need to prove how you got it to get treatment. You don’t need to explain it to anyone. The virus doesn’t care about your past. Your health does. Focus on getting cured-not on assigning blame.
What Comes Next
By 2030, New Zealand aims to eliminate hepatitis C as a public health threat. That means 90% of people diagnosed are treated. That’s possible. But only if stigma falls.
Every time someone speaks up, every time a doctor asks with kindness, every time a friend says, "I’ve got your back," the wall cracks a little more.
You don’t have to be a hero. Just be human.
Joshua Casella
November 18, 2025 AT 13:09Hepatitis C isn't a moral failing. It's a virus. And if we're going to call people out for how they got it, we need to start holding the pharmaceutical companies and healthcare systems accountable for the unsafe blood transfusions in the 80s and the lack of sterilization protocols in clinics. This isn't about individual blame-it's about systemic failure.
People are dying because they're ashamed, not because they're irresponsible. We need to stop treating medical conditions like character tests.
I've worked in public health for over a decade. I've seen this script play out with HIV, with TB, with addiction. The pattern is identical: fear, silence, then death. We know how to break it. We just refuse to.
Stop asking if they 'deserve' care. Ask why we're still making them beg for it.
And if you think this only affects 'drug users,' you're not just wrong-you're dangerous.
Richard Couron
November 19, 2025 AT 18:10Whoa whoa whoa-so now we’re saying it’s okay to get hepatitis C from tattoos? What’s next? Let people get HIV from shared razors? This isn’t science, it’s social engineering. They’re normalizing risky behavior by removing consequences. You think someone who got it from a needlestick at work is the same as someone who shared needles for years? No. One’s an accident. The other’s a lifestyle choice. And we’re pretending they’re equal? That’s not compassion, that’s surrender.
And don’t get me started on the free treatment thing. Taxpayers are footing the bill for people who made bad choices? No thanks. Let them pay for their own meds. Then maybe they’ll think twice before getting a tattoo in a garage.
Stigma exists for a reason. It’s a deterrent.
Alex Boozan
November 20, 2025 AT 01:36There’s a clear epidemiological hierarchy here. The vector transmission dynamics of HCV are heavily skewed toward parenteral exposure, particularly in contexts of inadequate infection control infrastructure. The conflation of etiological pathways undermines public health prioritization.
When you remove behavioral accountability from disease etiology, you dilute the efficacy of targeted prevention frameworks. The 40% figure cited is misleading-it doesn’t account for the disproportionate burden of reinfection among high-risk populations.
Moreover, the normalization of non-medical needle use-tattoos, piercings, acupuncture-without standardized regulatory oversight in low-income regions creates a latent reservoir. This isn’t stigma. It’s risk stratification.
And let’s not ignore the economic externality: curing asymptomatic individuals with zero transmission risk is a misallocation of finite healthcare resources. Prioritize those with active viral replication and advanced fibrosis. The rest? Watchful waiting.
Emotional appeals don’t replace evidence-based triage.
mithun mohanta
November 21, 2025 AT 21:56Oh my god, I’m literally crying right now. This is so deep. So profound. Like, I’ve been living this reality and no one ever said it like this before. The way you wrote about the barista offering coffee? That’s not just kindness-that’s revolutionary trauma-informed care. Like, wow. I’m just sitting here in my tiny flat in Delhi, reading this, and I feel seen for the first time since I got diagnosed in 2017.
And the part about being asked if you’re ‘clean’? I had a nurse say that to me. I wanted to die. I didn’t use drugs in 20 years. I got it from a blood transfusion after a car crash. But she looked at me like I was a dirty animal. And now? I’m on treatment. And I’m cured. And I’m still me.
Can someone please share this everywhere? I need the whole world to read this. I’m sending it to my entire family. And my therapist. And my yoga instructor. This is art. This is healing.
Thank you. From the bottom of my soul. I’m not broken. I’m not a burden. I’m alive.
And I’m so, so grateful.
Don Angel
November 23, 2025 AT 06:36My uncle was diagnosed in 2015. He didn’t tell anyone for three years. He was terrified his coworkers would find out. He worked in a bakery. Thought they’d fire him if they knew. He finally went to a clinic after his liver enzymes spiked. Got cured in 10 weeks. No side effects. Just pills.
He still doesn’t talk about it. Not even with us. But he started volunteering at the local health fair last year. Just handing out flyers. Said he didn’t want anyone else to feel as alone as he did.
That’s the quiet kind of change. Not loud. Not viral. Just… human.
benedict nwokedi
November 24, 2025 AT 23:58Let’s be real-this whole ‘stigma’ narrative is a distraction. The real issue is that we’re being sold a bill of goods by pharmaceutical lobbyists. DAAs are expensive. They’re not ‘free’-they’re subsidized by taxpayer dollars while drug companies rake in billions. The cure isn’t the problem. The profit motive is.
And don’t pretend stigma is the only barrier. Many people don’t get treated because they don’t trust the system. They’ve been lied to before. They’ve been experimented on. They’ve been told they’re ‘high-risk’ so they’re not worth saving.
This isn’t about language. It’s about power. And until we fix that, no amount of ‘kind words’ will cure what’s broken.
deepak kumar
November 26, 2025 AT 08:36I’m from India, and I’ve seen this play out in rural clinics. People with hepatitis C are often told, ‘It’s just liver problem, don’t worry.’ No testing. No follow-up. No education. Just silence.
But here’s what works: community health workers who speak the local language, come from the same villages, and sit with people over chai. Not in a clinic. Not in a white coat. Just on a bench. They say, ‘I had it too. I took the pills. I’m fine now.’ That’s all it takes.
One woman in Bihar told me she got it from her mother’s unsterilized needle during childbirth. She didn’t know until she was 32. She thought it was ‘bad luck.’ Now she trains other women to recognize symptoms.
Stigma isn’t just in the West. It’s everywhere. But so is courage.
And we don’t need fancy slogans. We need people who show up.
Angela J
November 27, 2025 AT 10:56Okay but what if this is all just a cover-up? What if hepatitis C isn’t even the real problem? What if it’s a way to push vaccines? Or to get people to take pills that make them dependent? I’ve read things… things that connect this to big pharma and government surveillance. Why is the government suddenly so eager to ‘cure’ people? Why now? Why free treatment? Why the sudden shift in language?
And what about the people who got it from blood transfusions? Were they just… unlucky? Or were they targeted? I don’t trust the system. I’ve seen too much. The ‘stigma’ is just a distraction from the real conspiracy.
They want you to feel guilty so you’ll take the pills. But what if the pills are the problem?
Sameer Tawde
November 29, 2025 AT 07:27One pill. One month. One cure.
That’s all it took.
Stop making it complicated.
People just need to know: you’re not broken.
And you’re not alone.
Erica Lundy
November 29, 2025 AT 20:52There is a profound existential dissonance in the contemporary medicalization of illness. The narrative of stigma, while emotionally compelling, risks reducing the complex phenomenology of disease to a sociological construct. To speak of ‘silence’ as the cause of death is to invert causality: the virus kills; stigma merely obscures the path to survival.
Yet, in the absence of institutional compassion, stigma becomes the operative mechanism of mortality. The body dies not because of viral load, but because the social world refuses to acknowledge its vulnerability.
Perhaps what is needed is not more advocacy, but a redefinition of care-not as a service rendered, but as a recognition of shared finitude.
And so we are called not to fix the system, but to be present within it. Not as saviors, but as witnesses.
Kevin Jones
November 30, 2025 AT 08:27They cured the virus. But they didn’t cure the shame.
And that’s the real tragedy.
Because the pills don’t erase the look in a nurse’s eyes when she says, ‘So… how’d you get it?’
They don’t undo the silence at family dinners.
They don’t bring back the years you spent thinking you didn’t deserve to live.
That’s the part no one talks about.
And it’s the part that kills.
So yeah. Cure the virus.
But then? Cure the world.