You can hear the music out in the hall — something loud with a beat you can dance to. Billy loves to have music playing, no matter what he’s doing. Though, he’s mindful of his neighbors, so he makes sure to lower the volume when people might be sleeping. “Respect starts with me,” he says.

At 63 years old, Billy has the kind of confidence that only comes from a life well-lived. “I’m proud of myself. I don’t have to prove nothing to no one,” he says. “Can’t no one make you happy but yourself.”

Billy was born and raised in Alabama, the youngest of five siblings. He knew he was gay from a young age. Unfortunately, so did other people. There were several times that he had anti-gay slurs shouted at him, but Billy always knew how to stand up for himself.

As he got older, Billy’s small town felt much too small. He needed to get out. He moved to New York in his early 20s. Billy had always loved to cook, so he enrolled in culinary school. He’d go on to work in several restaurants, as well as the kitchen of a nursing home in Queens. Sometimes, on his days off, Billy would just ride the subway and get off when he felt like it, exploring whatever neighborhood he found himself in. “I learned New York on my own,” he says, “slowly but surely.”

I have wonderful memories of being a young gay man.

That’s how he discovered Christopher Street. The site of the 1969 Stonewall Riots in New York City and a long-time mecca for the gay community, Billy instantly felt at home. One of Billy’s favorite places was a bar called Kelly’s. He’d often start off or end a night out dancing there. “I have so many wonderful memories of being a young gay man.”

It was during one of those nights out that Billy met Raymond. The couple was together for over five years. “He was the bread to my butter,” says Billy. He even took Raymond with him to Alabama to meet his parents. “My family welcomed him with open arms,” he says.  Especially his mother. She adored Raymond and was supportive of their relationship.

What Billy could never tell his mother, though, was his HIV status. “No one in my immediate family knew that I was HIV positive,” he says. “I kept that to myself.”

Billy had gotten tested with a previous boyfriend. When the doctor told him he was positive, he was devastated. At the time, he wasn’t sure what that would mean for him. “I didn’t know a thing about HIV and AIDS,” he says. “It took a while before I could accept it.” When he was finally able to open up to his mother, it was at her grave. He knows, though, that she would have loved and accepted him regardless, as she always had.

Once, there was a time when Billy doubted he’d live long enough to become an old man. Now, he has the aches and pains to show for it. A few years ago, he had to have a hip replacement. Between a bad knee and the debilitating flareups of his sciatica, it can be hard to get out and go to the grocery store. These days, Billy spends most of his time in his Brownsville, Brooklyn apartment, where he’s lived for over a decade. “I’m a homebody,” he says. “I live a quiet life.”

The home-delivered meals he receives allow him to continue to live on his own. “I love my freedom,” he says. He also loves the food. “I really do.” When he does cook, he likes to make soul food — dishes with things like oxtail and okra. “You can take a man from the country, but you can’t take the country from the man,” he says with a laugh.