Crystal Milner

The average life expectancy of a trans woman of color is 35 years. (Huff Post)

Weekday mornings begin around 6 a.m. for Persia Brewer. First, she takes a shower, next, she brews a pot of coffee while she picks out an outfit, then she begins her makeup routine. There was once a time Brewer could not wear makeup so freely. "I can remember going in my grandmother's closet, taking her shoes out, walking around the house in her shoes, taking her dresses out, putting on her lipstick, playing in her makeup and trying to put it all back before she came home. Of course she knew because I was a little kid, so nothing was where she put it. My family always knew," Brewer said. Born as Jason Wade Anthony Brewer, March 17, 1981 in Roxbury, Mass., Persia legally changed her name to Persia Lynette Brewer in 2014.

Every morning for the past three years, Brewer wakes up in unit three of an apartment complex just off Blue Hill Avenue in Dorchester, Mass. It is the exact complex she lived in 19 years ago. "I was 17 and living here, we lived upstairs from this apartment, and they kicked me out. Well, my dad kicked me out," Brewer said. Majority of her adolescent years, Brewer's father was in prison. He was a local drug dealer. Brewer visited her father in prison almost every weekend. While she didn't consider herself to be transitioning, at the time of each visit, she sat across from her dad, nails painted, permed hair, wearing tight jeans and a shirt to match.

Being ostracized by family was only the beginning. At age 25, Brewer was diagnosed with HIV.  Every two weeks she takes a Delestrogen shot (hormone injection) in addition to the three pills she takes each morning and evening to control her chronic disease. Although Brewer began survival sex work when she was kicked out of her home, during times she was in a committed relationship she would stop. "Stepping out on my partner -- I don't believe in that," she said.One day during an argument with her then boyfriend, she discovered his HIV medications. The pills were tucked away in a drawer. She immediately made an appointment at Sidney Borum Health Center to get tested. To Brewer's dismay the diagnosis was positive. Four medication changes and 11 years later, the virus is undetectable within Brewer and has been for the last two years.

When Brewer left home, she made sure to keep in contact with her family. She would visit for birthdays and during the holiday season. Their relationship was slowly healing. When Brewer decided to begin hormone treatment, she felt strongly about sharing that information with her family. Though her mom had defended her against her father in the past, this was a change she had difficulty accepting. "She was actually very upset that I was going to start taking hormones. She really did not agree with me taking a medication that would change the child, that I guess she thought she raised," Brewer said. 

Chastity Bowick (left) and Brewer (right) work at Aids Action Committee in Roxbury, Mass. For thirty years, Aids Action Committee has been advocating at all levels of government for fair and effective AIDS policies, conducting cutting edge HIV prevention programs, and providing health and wellness services to people already living with HIV. A few times a month from 11 p.m. until 2 a.m., Brewer and a fellow colleague walk the streets of Boston. They keep a calendar of where the hot spots are during the week. The goal during outreach is to bring awareness to their organization, available resources, and at the very least to pass out condemns and pamphlets. This particular evening, they took a walk down memory lane. As a sex worker, Brewer frequented Dorchester Avenue. "Persia, is that you?" a woman asked as she walked toward Brewer from a dark parking lot. Once Brewer distinguished who she was, they embraced -- she was an old friend. They shared some laughs then went their separate ways. "I really try to make an impact because those people I pass by, a lot of them know me, a lot of them have watched me transition from being a homeless trans woman on the street to a secure trans -- I don't even want to say trans -- a secure advocate of women and struggling people," Brewer said.

The night was full of familiar faces. Recognizing this man from behind, Brewer lovingly yelled, "Chocolate!" a few times before the man turned around. When she was living on the streets and and found herself in trouble with her pimp or a client, Chocolate always provided a safe place for her to take refuge. Brewer and Bowick give the condemns away for free, however Chocolate planned to sell them each for $1.

Brewer witnessed a lot of violence as a sex worker living on the streets. "I learned in time that the sex work industry is compiled into so many different facets that there is a huge portion of it that can be done without having sex at all. I really worked that niche as much as I could. I had one client who paid me $20,000 to put a leash around his neck and sponges on his knees and arms and he cleaned my whole house -- walking around like a dog and barking," she said. Brewer spent more time with these clients -- those who had a fetish -- but it would always result in more money and a safer environment.

Your twenties are a time of self-discovery, and while Brewer was on that journey as she transitioned, she was also homeless and in and out of jail. At a time of distress and uncertainty, Brewer found solace in a local Dorchester drug dealer. "He made sure that I had money, shelter, food, pretty much anything I wanted, he would take care of," Brewer said. However, this was no ordinary drug dealer. He was known as a "weight man," which is someone who sells drugs in large quantities. He would not sell to anyone in the neighborhood. Because Brewer would be seen coming to and from his apartment rumors began to spread. Dealers in the neighborhood thought he was selling to her. "They assumed I was purchasing weight from him, " Brewer said. When in actuality that was her boyfriend at the time. One evening as Brewer was leaving her boyfriend's house, three men sitting on his stoop began harassing her. They yelled derogatory things such as, "faggot." She brushed it off and continued walking towards the car her boyfriend had waiting for her. When she got in the car the driver asked, "Where's my stuff?" stuff meaning drugs, that was his payment for driving Brewer. She did not have the drugs her boyfriend owed the driver; she told him to come back for them. A sense of urgency came over Brewer when she realized the boys from the stoop approaching the car. "The next thing you know, two of them sort of move back, the other one takes a step back, I see the barrel of a gun and i'm out," Brewer said. She woke up three blocks from where she was covered in blood. At age 27 Brewer had been shot in the face twice. She was passed out for 45 minutes. She awoke to the driver rummaging through her purse, searching for the cocaine he was owed. Realizing the driver was no help, she called the ambulance and was eventually rushed to the hospital. "The doctor actually look his hand and went from the roof of my mouth and stuck his fingers from out of my eye socket because my skin was separated from my bone. I was in the hospital for 3 months" Brewer said. Brewer's face was reconstructed with 52 titanium plates and 36 screws. The boys who shot her were never found. "It took me awhile to really start like loving myself again because I think the girl that existed before I was shot, she loved herself but she didn't value herself," Brewer said. Here, she pets her teacup chihuahua, Versace in her home in Dorchester, Mass.

During her three month stay at the Boston Medical Health Center, Brewer was given dilaudid pills, morphine, and oxycodone to help manage the pain from the extensive surgeries. "Once those medications stopped, I ended up with a heroin addiction," Brewer said. Recognizing the toll substance abuse had taken over her life, she signed herself into rehab where she met Ralph Garcia (right).  As recovering drug addicts and HIV survivors, Garcia and Brewer had a lot in common. What started out as a friendship over time grew into a romantic relationship. "We enjoyed being social, going to movies, going shopping, we had a lot of similarities," Brewer said. 

Shortly after the relationship began, Garcia moved in with Brewer. Life was looking up for the two of them. They had a roof over their heads, Brewer was thriving at her job, and Garcia was hired to be a maintenance technician in their building. While things were falling into place for Brewer, she was stepping into the next phase of her transition -- gender reassignment surgery. "He had never been with a trans woman before," Brewer said. Garcia supported her before, during, and after her gender reassignment surgery. "She's a real woman to me," Garcia said. 

In addition to working at Aids Action Committee as the Transgender Health Navigator, Brewer lends her efforts and talents to other grassroot causes as well.  On Wednesday evenings she, along with a colleague facilities the Chronic Disease Health Management Program at Fenway Health. It is a free 6-week course open to anyone with a chronic disease, their family members and friends as well as caregivers. The class offers techniques for dealing with issues such as frustration, fatigue, pain and isolation, how to advocate for oneself during doctor's visits, diet and exercise and overall how to increase their quality of life. "That's one of the things I really try to push in the class is don't allow your disease to be the reason why you don't live," Brewer said. 

Brewer and Garcia were together for three years when Brewer decided to end the relationship in early November 2017. He had a gambling problem and wasn't contributing to any of the bills or household chores. "His gambling was ultimately what did it," Brewer said. Garcia had is own bank account along with the bank account he and Brewer shared. In the aftermath of the breakup Garcia drained their shared account leaving not one penny to Brewer's name. Unfortunately that was not the worst of what was to come. 

Monday, Nov. 13, 2017 Brewer awoke to Garcia entering her home at 3 a.m. Using a golf club he destroyed the living room television and ransacked the kitchen. As he tried to enter Brewer's bedroom, she used her strength to lean against the door as Garcia  repeatedly bashed the golf club into it. The police arrived before any further damage was done. "I thought my parents had taken the keys from him," Brewer said.

The following day she changed her locks and filed a restraining order against Garcia. As the week progressed Brewer packed the remainder of Garcia's belongings and stored them in the basement. Brewer was cautious as she entered the basement. Brewer's landlord noticed a pallet compiled of sheets and blankets arranged against the basement wall. He suspected it belonged to Garcia and warned Brewer. Also, Garcia had yet to return the building keys, allowing him access to every tenant's apartment. 

The four leaf clover is considered lucky because of its rarity. According to "The Daily Telegraph", an Australian publication, the chance of finding a single four leaf clover is about one in 10,000. Whether you believe the Irish Folklore to be true or not, Brewer's life is a testament to what each leaf of the four leaf clover represents: hope, love, faith, and luck. 

Hope: Brewer is the change she wants to see in the world. Each day she goes into work, advocating for her clients -- sometimes for basic needs -- she's giving them hope for a better future. "That's my first and foremost goal when I go to work everyday, reaching out to my trans clients that are [HIV] positive, making sure that they're receiving whatever care they need. Whether it's getting food to their house from a food pantry or, making sure that they made it to their doctors appointment, or making sure they can get to their doctors appointment," Brewer said.

Love: "I really started learning to love and to value myself and it wasn't instantaneous, it literally took about 4 or 5 years of just figuring it all out. If I wanted to really make the best of the life that I have, I've got to really work at it and give myself the same amount of energy that I think I gave so many other people," Brewer said. 

Faith: Brewer began her transition 15 years ago, during a time it was less sociably acceptable. "They had always put it under a term of like drag queens. My mother had been friends with drag queens growing up, but they didn't live their lives fully as women," Brewer said. Not having the language to express it for herself,  yet still taking the plunge and embarking on this journey attest to her faith in herself and humanity. 

Lucky: "I think I would tell my younger-self that your family is always going to love you even when you don't believe it," Brewer said as she reflected on her past. In her time of need, these words have proven true. Showered with the love and support of her family, Brewer has found the strength to move forward. She's now dating Cambridge, Mass. native, Felipe Rodriguez.