The Dedicated Advocate

Gina Lamar Evans has dedicated more than 30 years to the fight against HIV, a journey she once hesitated to acknowledge because it revealed her age. Now, she sees it as a badge of honor.

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“It’s powerful,” Evans says of her decades of work as an HIV Training Specialist. “I bring that experience to my team and our clients.”

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Her extensive career spans hospitals, educational institutions, and correctional facilities, where she’s trained physicians and healthcare providers across Illinois. Beyond her hands-on training work, Evans is also a published author and researcher, contributing to advancements in HIV care and education.

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Evans traces her passion for patient advocacy back to her roots. The daughter of Mary Louise Berkeley, a patient advocate at Cook County Hospital, Evans grew up immersed in a culture of activism. “All her children learned advocacy from her,” Evans says. “She took care of patients and held doctors and nurses accountable if patients were treated poorly. Her example showed us that’s what you do to advocate for others—you work on their behalf, you fight for their rights, you protect their interests.”

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That early exposure shaped Evans’ approach to her own work in HIV care. “That’s where it all started, and that’s why I love the fact that my work closes the circle. I do patient advocacy. Even though my clients don’t always want it, I make sure they get the best for themselves,” she says.

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Though her parents didn’t march in protests or sing “We Shall Overcome,” Evans is quick to point out, “My parents were activists.” She recalls accompanying her parents to the voting booth as a child, a tradition that instilled the value of civic engagement. “That’s why I’m one of those people who likes to vote on Election Day,” she says proudly. “I grew up in a voting family, an activist family, and we remain active in the community.”

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Evans pauses, reflecting on a deeply personal milestone. “This coming January, less than 60 days from now, it’ll be 25 years since I buried my parents in a double casket funeral. They died six days apart—January 10 and January 16, 2000. Back then, you couldn’t have told me I’d be here 25 years later.”

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Evans recalls how her parents instilled independence in her from a young age. By her second semester of freshman year, her parents had already taught her how to drive, entrusting her to make the commute to school alone—without a license or permit. “My mother instructed me, ‘Go straight to Oakley, turn and go straight down Park, and when you’re done, come straight back down Western,’” she says, reflecting on their complete trust in her sense of responsibility.

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Her stepfather, however, made sure she understood the stakes. “He used to say, ‘I’m telling you now, if the police stop you, I’m denying any responsibility. You will be accountable for your actions.’” Looking back, Evans laughs but also recognizes the lesson: “My father was giving me the opportunity to choose. I chose the risk. I was so excited to be able to drive, I didn’t think about the consequences—or the impact it could have had on my family.”

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Graduating high school at just 16 years old, Evans was the youngest in her class and the youngest of her six siblings. Being surrounded by older peers shaped her sense of maturity early on. “They knew they could trust me to do as asked,” she says, reflecting on how those formative experiences paved the way for her to embrace responsibility and independence.

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Evans credits much of her growth and advocacy spirit to her stepfather, the man she proudly calls her dad. Her biological father passed away when she was just two years old, but her stepfather married her mother when Evans was nine, embracing the entire family as his own. “He didn’t have children of his own, but he fell in love with us and treated us as if we were his bloodline,” she says.

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Their 25-year marriage, Evans recalls, was “the best thing to ever happen to our family.” Her stepfather’s unwavering support and belief in her shaped her understanding of trust, responsibility, and the value of standing up for others—principles that continue to guide her work as an advocate today.

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Her parents’ legacy lives on in Evans’ work, as she continues to champion the rights and well-being of her clients, embodying the lessons in advocacy she learned at home.

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Evans' journey through university and marriage was shaped by both maturity and missteps. Initially enrolled at Iowa University, she was summoned home by her parents to attend Chicago State University, where the costs were more manageable. Though responsible in many aspects, Evans admits she lacked emotional maturity, which became evident in her personal decisions. While at CSU, she met her future husband, a Chicago police officer pursuing law school. “I just remember him studying all the time, and all I could think was, ‘Oh my goodness, these books are everywhere. I don’t know how you get this done,’” she recalls. Their relationship blossomed into a fairytale romance, culminating in a lavish wedding complete with a horse and carriage ride. However, their marriage unraveled just 18 months later, a situation Evans attributes to her own immaturity. “I just didn’t want to be married,” she admitted, adding, “I dared not say I was responsible.”

Reflecting on their relationship, Evans acknowledges the profound impact her husband had on her life. A pivotal moment came during their marriage when he pointed out her struggle to complete her degree. “I was being critical of his study habits, and he responded, ‘I’m working on a law degree, and you’re still trying to work on a four-year degree. I must be doing something right.’” That comment, she says, “catapulted me to pull it together,” and she completed her BA within a year. Despite their divorce, Evans holds her ex-husband in high regard. “I loved him. He was tall, dark, handsome, educated, and respected women,” she reflects. Even after their separation, he remained a presence in her life, including carrying her mother’s casket at her parents’ funeral. “One would think we had never been apart,” she says, marveling at his kindness. Looking back, Evans recognizes the wisdom her father offered during that time, which helped her reflect on her choices and grow into the woman she is today.

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Evans’ journey into working with HIV/AIDS patients was both personal and serendipitous. Following her divorce in the mid-1990s, she found herself living alone and focused on her career. One day, while flipping through the Chicago Defender, she came across an ad for a part-time case manager position at Come Alive Social Services, a community organization led by Vicki D. Johnson and Mary Marion Johnson on Chicago’s South Side. She applied and joined their team in 1995, staying until 2000. The experience sparked a passion for advocacy and care that would shape her career. Evans recalls, “As a matter of fact, when I received the Woman of Excellence Award in 2017, my mentor, Reverend Vicki D. Johnson, was there as my guest.”

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Her work at Come Alive led to new opportunities, including a pivotal role in opening the Ruth Rothstein CORE Center, an infectious disease clinic on Chicago’s West Side, in 1998. This facility became a major hub for HIV treatment and advocacy. By 2009, Evans' expertise in the field was widely recognized, prompting the center’s executive director, Kathy Broswell, to call on her for her insights. These experiences, coupled with her tenure at Roseland Hospital, gave Evans a profound understanding of how to address the unique challenges faced by those living with HIV/AIDS.

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Evans' fearlessness toward HIV/AIDS advocacy was deeply influenced by her mother’s compassion and open-heart policy. Growing up, she watched her mother—an advocate at Cook County Hospital—bring patients in need into their home, often providing care to those stigmatized by society. “At some point, my father said, ‘Gina is now 13. You can’t keep bringing folks home. She’s impressionable,’” Evans recalls with a smile. But her mother’s example left an indelible mark, teaching Evans the importance of standing up for others. That foundation of advocacy now drives her work with people affected by HIV, echoing the lessons her mother instilled in her.

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Reflecting on her career, Evans often tells audiences, “If you had asked me at age 26 if I’d get paid to talk about sex for a living, I would not have said yes.” Yet today, she educates people about HIV prevention, openly addressing sex as the primary mode of transmission. While advances like medications to prevent mother-to-child transmission and safe practices for IV drug users have drastically reduced cases, Evans notes that unprotected sex continues to fuel new infections. “HIV is manageable now but not gone,” she emphasizes, underscoring the continued importance of education and advocacy in her work.

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After years of experience working in HIV/AIDS advocacy, Evans' path to founding her organization, NEFUSE, was driven by both persistence and faith. She began building her expertise as a trainer for the Midwest AIDS Training + Education Center (MATEC), where she trained healthcare providers and correctional nurses on managing HIV cases in prisons. Later, Evans managed HIV programs at Provident and Mercy Hospitals, where her commitment to serving patients deepened. In 2020, inspired to create her own agency, she secured the paperwork to establish NEFUSE just before the COVID-19 pandemic shut down much of the world. Despite the challenges, Evans pressed on, recognizing the critical need for her services during a public health crisis. “We had to mask up, glove up, and go to work,” she says, recalling how she and her team supported patients during those difficult months.

Launching NEFUSE, however, came with obstacles. Although Evans initially planned to bring 104 patients with her from her previous job, she was blocked from doing so, leaving her without a client base. Determined to make her vision a reality, she began driving for Uber while waiting for her first patient. When that patient finally arrived, Evans took it as a sign. “My very first patient’s initials were MB—my mother’s maiden name, Mary Burke. It was like a message from her to not worry. I just knew everything was going to be okay.” Gradually, Evans built her patient roster, balancing Uber trips with her growing caseload. Today, NEFUSE serves 185 patients and continues to expand its reach.

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One of NEFUSE’s newest initiatives is a re-entry program for individuals impacted by the justice system, including those returning from prison. Evans' advocacy for this community is deeply personal, shaped by her family’s experiences with the criminal justice system. She also fought for ex-felons’ right to vote in Illinois and helped push for policy changes that allow formerly incarcerated individuals to gain employment with companies they worked for while in prison. Evans' re-entry work recently caught the attention of the University of Chicago, which partnered with NEFUSE on a research grant to support employment services for justice-involved clients. Reflecting on her mission, Evans emphasizes the need to ensure that everyone, regardless of their past, has a fair shot at rebuilding their lives.

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As NEFUSE approaches its fifth anniversary in June 2025, Evans is determined to make the milestone year a pivotal one. Guided by the campaign mantra “Let’s Stay Alive in 2025,” the organization is redoubling its efforts to combat the twin crises of HIV and gun violence in Black communities. “We want to lower the number of men and women who die from the virus,” Evans explains, highlighting the alarming statistics that underscore the urgency of their work: in 2023, 53% of people living with HIV were women and girls, and 5.5 million people worldwide were unaware of their status. Children aged 0-14 remain the least likely to receive HIV treatment, while older adults—those 50 and above—now represent nearly a quarter of people living with the virus. NEFUSE’s mission focuses on bridging these gaps, ensuring early testing, treatment, and awareness to prevent more lives from being lost to AIDS-related causes, which claimed an estimated 630,000 lives in 2023 alone.

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Another core goal for NEFUSE is addressing the epidemic of gun violence, particularly the shootings and killings of Black men. For Evans, this mission is personal. The organization’s motto, CHRIS—an acronym for Case management, Health relations, Reentry, Interruption of violence, and Science—honors the memory of her sorority sister’s son, whom she considered a nephew, lost to gun violence. NEFUSE is committed to tackling the root causes of community violence while providing resources and support for reentry and healing. Evans sees this work as not only lifesaving but also essential for the long-term health and safety of the communities NEFUSE serves. As she envisions the future, Evans hopes to deepen the impact of the organization’s programs and further embody the spirit of CHRIS—transforming pain into progress.

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