As part of our Loud & Clear event, we interviewed the speakers and facilitators of these critical advocacy events leading up to HIV Speaks 2026. This interview is with A Great Idea owner, public speaker, and bodily autonomy advocate Shane Lukas who speaks about amplifying advocacy.
For those who are meeting you for the first time, who are you and what brought you into health justice and HIV advocacy?
I’m Shane Lukas, speaker, activist, and the owner of A Great Idea, a queer-affirming, social justice–minded agency and studio. I’ve spent years helping mission-driven organizations and communicators tell the truth of their work with clarity, courage, and care. I’ve also lived the stakes of what it means to fight for access, dignity, and survival.
My advocacy started early. I began working with Planned Parenthood when I was 14. I came out at 17. In college I studied queer communities, and that learning quickly became real-world work. I did HIV outreach in King County, Washington, often in public parks and arcades, meeting people where they were, without judgment, and with a deep respect for the complicated realities of sex, safety, and stigma.
That path also brought me into harm reduction education and awareness work with communities involved in sex work. I learned from organizers and advocates who were unapologetic about bodily autonomy and human rights. They understood that “care” isn’t just a service you receive. It’s a system you have to fight to make real.
Today, I bring that history into every room I’m invited into because health justice isn’t abstract. It’s personal. It’s political. And it’s shaped by who gets listened to, who gets believed, and who gets access.
How has your understanding of health justice evolved over time?
At first, health justice looked like information and access: getting people resources, helping them reduce risk, connecting them to services. Over time, I came to understand that access isn’t only about availability. It’s about power.
Who has transportation? Who has time off work? Who can risk being seen walking into a clinic? Who is treated with dignity once they get there? Who is criminalized, shamed, or dismissed? The deeper I got into this work, the clearer it became that health outcomes are shaped by systems: policy, funding, stigma, racism, homophobia, transphobia, and the everyday decisions that either widen or close the door.
What role do power dynamics play in who gets care and who doesn’t?
Power dynamics are everywhere in healthcare: in who is believed, who is policed, who is protected, and who is punished. They show up in intake forms, in waiting rooms, in the language providers use, in the assumptions they make, and in the policies that decide what gets funded.
When you’re marginalized, you’re often asked to “prove” your need, your pain, your worthiness. Health justice is about changing that equation so care is not conditional on respectability, resources, or silence.
Who has shaped your approach to advocacy and organizing?
Sex work rights organizers have shaped me profoundly, especially those who insisted on dignity, safety, and autonomy in a world that often denies all three. I’m grateful for the trailblazing work and influence of people like Scarlet Harlot, Annie Sprinkle, Sylvia Rivera, Miss Major, Ceyenne Doroshow, Savannah Sly, and many others.
They modeled a kind of advocacy that is both fierce and tender: clear-eyed about harm, unwilling to accept dehumanization as normal, and committed to community care that doesn’t require people to become “palatable” to deserve support.
What feels distinctive about HIV advocacy in the South?
HIV advocacy in the South is shaped by a unique mix of deep community resilience and deep structural barriers. You see extraordinary organizing and mutual aid. You also see the weight of stigma, underfunded systems, and political climates that can make basic healthcare feel like a battleground.
There’s also the reality of geography: rural communities, limited transportation, fewer providers, and fewer affirming spaces. The South has always been a place where people build what they need when the system won’t, and that spirit is powerful. But it shouldn’t be required for survival.
What are some of the biggest barriers to HIV prevention and care for marginalized communities?
Barriers stack. Stigma. Cost. Transportation. Housing insecurity. Lack of culturally competent care. Fear of being outed, of being judged, of being criminalized. And then there’s the exhaustion that comes from navigating systems that were not designed with you in mind.
When people are already carrying so much, “just go get care” can sound like someone describing a world that doesn’t exist for you.
What is your vision for equitable HIV prevention and care?
My vision is simple to say, harder to build: care that is affirming, accessible, and rooted in dignity, without hoops, without shame, without punishment.
Equity means investing in community-based organizations, funding what works, and listening to the people most impacted. It means prevention and care that account for real life, not idealized behavior, and systems that treat people as whole human beings.
Your workshop is titled “Your Advocacy Amplified.” What does that mean to you?
To me, “Your Advocacy Amplified” is about moving from effort to impact.
A lot of advocates are already doing meaningful work, but it can be hard to see what’s adding power, what’s draining energy, and what’s simply not being counted. This workshop helps participants name what they’re doing, measure what they’re building, and connect daily actions to bigger outcomes.
It also pulls from my first book project launching this fall, The Advocacy Advantage, where I’ve been developing practical tools for understanding advocacy-building in a way that is measurable, human, and grounded in real life.
What can participants expect from the workshop, practically?
This workshop is practical by design. We’ll use tools and exercises that help people measure and understand advocacy-building in real terms. That way, we can start putting meaning to our actions, not just our intentions.
Participants will leave with a clearer sense of what they’re already doing, what’s working, what’s missing, and how to make their advocacy more strategic and sustainable.
Where do you find hope right now?
I find hope in people who keep showing up, especially when it would be easier to numb out. I find hope in organizers who are building networks of care, in young advocates who are refusing to accept the old stories, and in the moments when someone realizes they’re not alone.
Hope isn’t passive for me. It’s a practice.
How do we advocate sustainably, without burning out?
Sustainable advocacy starts with telling the truth about what this work costs us.
When your values and your reality are constantly in conflict, your body keeps the score: stress physiology, burnout, nervous system overload. So sustainability isn’t just “self-care tips.” It’s boundaries, community, realistic expectations, and cultures that don’t glorify martyrdom.
It’s also learning how to make hard choices without abandoning yourself.
You’ve spoken about values and hard choices in your talks. How does that connect to this work?
A lot of advocacy comes down to crossroads moments: the choice between keeping the peace and telling the truth, between being liked and being aligned.
My most recent TEDx talk focuses on making hard choices and living your values when it would be easier to compromise. My first TEDx talk is about destigmatizing the careers and the lives of people who engage in sex work. Both are rooted in the same idea: when we live out of alignment, it doesn’t just affect our work. It affects our health, our relationships, and our capacity to keep going.
How does A Great Idea connect to your advocacy work?
A Great Idea is part of how I practice my values in the world. It’s a queer-affirming, social justice–minded agency that supports this work for our client partners, and through our own initiatives.
For client partners, that means having a creative team that understands the stakes: how to communicate equity commitments without flattening them into slogans, how to avoid tokenizing communities, and how to move with urgency without losing integrity. We help partners protect trust, internally with teams and externally with audiences, so their work lands as credible, human, and aligned.
And we practice what we support. Through our own initiatives like Power Beyond Pride, we invest in community-rooted, justice-forward storytelling and advocacy. This isn’t a trend for us. It’s the work, and it’s personal.
What do you want participants to walk away with after the workshop?
I want people to leave with language they can use, clarity about what they’re fighting for, and a stronger sense of their own authority.
This workshop isn’t about perfection. It’s about voice: how we name what’s true, how we ask for what we need, how we advocate without shrinking, and how we build a future where care is real.
What would you say to the next generation of advocates?
You don’t have to do this alone.
Find your people. Learn the history. Protect your nervous system like it matters because it does. And remember: your voice is not a bonus feature of this work. It’s one of the tools that makes change possible.
Shane Lukas is one of four brilliant facilitators and speakers bringing Loud & Clear to life! It’s time for us all to unite and activate in one movement for healthcare justice!
