NC AIDS Action Network

HIV Speaks 2026 Advocate Highlight: Robert Suttle

May 28, 2026 · 8 min read · ncaan.orgHealth

Robert Suttle is a recognized HIV racial justice leader with over ten years of standing in the gap for the HIV movement before the U.S. criminalization system; cultivating relationships with other cross-movement leaders, collectively advocating for meaningful involvement of communities most impacted, centering Black communities and communities of color, connecting advocacy to decriminalize HIV to other movements around prisons, policing, and criminalization. NCAAN got a chance to talk with him ahead of his keynote presentation for HIV Speaks on Jones Street 2026 about what he is seeing, how change can happen, and which soundtrack fuels his momentum.

Robert, thank you for taking the time to share your story and insights with the NCAAN community. Your advocacy work keeps you moving at a relentless pace, and you are constantly asked to speak on heavy, systemic issues. Before we dive into politics and policy, we’d love to know: What is bringing you joy, peace, or grounding in your life outside of the advocate spotlight right now?

What is grounding me right now is learning how to make room for myself outside of urgency. So much of this work asks us to respond to crisis, harm, policy attacks, and people’s pain. I try to remember that I am a whole person beyond the work.

Joy looks like music, quiet moments, meaningful friendships, laughter, and being around people who do not need me to perform strength. Peace comes from small rituals, listening to songs that remind me of faith, survival, and protection, and giving myself permission to rest. Rest is not a retreat from the movement. It is part of how I remain available to it with integrity.

You’ve spoken passionately about the overlapping crises of HIV, mass incarceration, and racial injustice in the American South. Why must modern HIV advocacy look beyond medicine and look directly at the criminal justice system?

Because HIV has never been only a medical issue. Medicine can tell us how HIV is transmitted, how it is treated, and how people can live long, healthy lives. But medicine alone cannot explain why stigma follows people into courtrooms, why some communities are denied care, or why outdated laws still punish people based on fear rather than science.

In the South, especially, HIV sits at the intersection of race, poverty, sexuality, gender, incarceration, and access to healthcare. If we talk about ending the epidemic without talking about policing, prisons, surveillance, and criminalization, then we are only addressing part of the problem.

Modern HIV advocacy has to ask not only, “How do we treat HIV?” but also, “What conditions create vulnerability, and what institutions punish people after they become vulnerable?”

For those unfamiliar with your story, your life was drastically altered by an unjust HIV prosecution under an outdated law. What is the biggest misconception the general public—and even lawmakers—still hold about HIV criminalization laws?

The biggest misconception is that these laws are about public safety. Many were created during a time of fear, misinformation, and moral judgment. They often do not require intent to harm. They often do not require transmission. In some cases, they punish people even when there was little or zero risk of HIV exposure.Another misconception is that HIV criminalization only affects people who are reckless or malicious. That is simply not true. These laws can and do affect people navigating complicated relationships, intimate partner violence, poverty, racism, stigma, or inconsistent access to medical care.My life was changed not because I was a danger to the public, but because the law treated my HIV status as evidence of criminality. That is what we have to confront.

North Carolina modernized its HIV control measures a few years ago, shifting away from a strict felony approach for some nondisclosure cases. However, advocates note the work isn’t done. What should the next phase of legal reform look like in states like NC to truly align with modern science (like U=U)?

North Carolina’s 2018 modernization was an important step, and advocates should be recognized for what it took to move policy reform in a Southern state. But the next phase has to go further.

First, the law should fully reflect the science. People who are undetectable do not transmit HIV sexually. At the same time, policy reform cannot only protect people who have been able to reach and maintain viral suppression. Some people are not undetectable because they face barriers like unstable housing, lack of insurance, limited access to affirming providers, transportation challenges, or gaps in care.

Second, the law should require proof of intent to transmit and a realistic possibility of transmission. It should not punish people based on HIV status, fear, or assumptions about risk.

Third, we need to move away from criminal penalties that turn public health guidance into legal surveillance. The goal should be care, support, education, and prevention, not punishment.

In North Carolina, Black and African American residents account for nearly half of new HIV diagnoses, yet face massive disparities in access to preventative tools like PrEP. How can groups like NCAAN as well as our many collaborators better tackle the structural racism that drives these health inequities?

Portrait of activist Robert Suttle with the quote "Structural racism requires structural responses. Awareness is not enough. Equity has to show up in budgets, leadership, policy priorities, and accountability.”

We have to begin with honesty: racial disparities in HIV are not caused by Black people making poor choices. They are produced by systems – healthcare, housing, education, employment, and criminal legal systems that have never served all communities equally.

For groups like NCAAN and its collaborators, the work is not only to expand access to PrEP and HIV treatment. It is also important to ask who controls the resources, who designs the programs, who is trusted to lead, and who continues to be described as “hard to reach” when the real issue is that institutions have failed to reach them.

That means investing directly in Black-led organizations and community leaders. It means culturally grounded messaging, sustained resources, and services that are easy to access in the communities most impacted.

Structural racism requires structural responses. Awareness is not enough. Equity has to show up in budgets, leadership, policy priorities, and accountability.

North Carolina has major urban centers like Charlotte and Greensboro with high diagnosis rates, but it also has sprawling rural communities. How do we ensure that rural North Carolinians aren’t left behind when it comes to harm reduction, syringe service programs, and stigma reduction?

We have to stop assuming access exists just because a service exists somewhere in the state. Rural communities often face transportation barriers, provider shortages, limited anonymous options, and greater fear of being judged or exposed.

The answer is not simply to tell people to travel farther for help. The answer is to bring services closer through mobile outreach, telehealth, trusted local partnerships, pharmacy engagement, faith and community-based relationships, and harm reduction programs that are protected and funded.

We also need to support the people already doing the work in rural areas. Many are operating with limited resources while carrying deep community trust. They need funding, legal protection, training, and political backing.

And we have to talk about stigma directly and take confidentiality seriously. In smaller communities, privacy can determine whether someone gets tested, picks up medication, accesses syringes, or asks for support.

You are a powerful storyteller. NCAAN focuses heavily on building statewide advocacy power through its Action Teams and events. What is your advice to grassroots advocates in North Carolina on how to effectively share their stories to move policy on Jones Street (the NC General Assembly)?

My advice is: your story is powerful, but it should not have to stand alone. A strong advocacy story connects personal experience to a policy problem and then to a clear ask. Legislators may remember your story, but they also need to know what you want them to do with it.

I encourage advocates to think in three parts: What happened? What did it (your lived or professional experience) reveal? What needs to change?

You do not have to share every painful detail to be effective. You get to decide what parts of your story are yours to offer and what parts are yours to keep. The goal is not to perform trauma. The goal is to make the consequences of policy impossible to ignore.

And when advocates go to Jones Street, they should go together. One story can move a heart. Organized stories, connected to strategy, can move policy.

A core tenet of your work is the meaningful involvement of people living with HIV (MIPA) in leadership roles. Why is it vital that those most impacted by these laws are the ones driving the legislative strategy?

Because people living with HIV are not just affected by these laws. We understand their real-life consequences. When those most impacted are not helping lead, reform can become too narrow, too symbolic, or disconnected from what people actually need.

People with lived experience can identify harms that may not be obvious to lawyers, public health officials, or policymakers. We can also help shape solutions that are practical, humane, and accountable.MIPA is not about inviting someone to tell a story after the strategy has already been decided. Meaningful involvement means shared power. It means people living with HIV help define the problem, set the agenda, craft the message, meet with lawmakers, evaluate compromises, and decide what victory should look like.“Nothing about us without us” is not just a slogan. It is a strategy for better policy.

I’m a music nerd, and I need a soundtrack whether I am heading on stage or just getting my day going. We know that sustaining this work requires a lot of energy and inspiration. If you had to pick one song that serves as the ultimate soundtrack or fuel for your activism right now, what would it be and why?

Right now, I would say “A Secret Place,” written by the late Richard Smallwood and sung by renowned gospel artist Karen Clark Sheard.

That song speaks to sanctuary, a place of covering, safety, and restoration. And in a way, that connects deeply to my work. Systems are supposed to protect people. Public health, legal, and healthcare systems, they are supposed to be places of safety. But for many people living with HIV, especially Black people, LGBTQ people, people who use drugs, and people impacted by incarceration, those institutions have often created more harm than good.So that song reminds me that protection is not just spiritual language. It is also a political demand. People deserve places of refuge, dignity, care, and accountability. That is the energy I want to carry into this work right now: grounded, protected, and still committed to changing what has failed us.

Learn more about Robert at his site, robertsuttle.com