Blog video

May 20, 2021, 4:30 PM

I’m a Black woman adopted from the child welfare system by White parents, and I’ve been aware of the fight for racial equality all my life. But it wasn’t until five years ago that, in the course of my work, I started focusing on equity. This is the idea that we must adjust resources, transform systems and remove obstacles to create fair and just opportunities and outcomes for Black, Indigenous and other people of color (BIPOC) so that they are supported toward success.

As an assistant county administrator for the highly diverse Broward County in Florida, I was reviewing data from our child welfare system and was struck by the disparities and disproportionality. Black families were being decimated in two ZIP codes, with child removal rates two and three times higher than that of White families.

I knew right then that we had to identify the root cause of the disparities reflected in systems that perpetuate racism—while purporting to help people—and are often a barrier to health for BIPOC in this nation.

The terrible events of the past year sparked a national reckoning with structural racism. RWJF Culture of Health Prize communities have engaged in hard conversations about the historical wrongs that perpetuate today's inequities.

So, we implemented a comprehensive training program that goes beyond unconscious perceptions and implicit bias to directly address systemic racism, shifting the focus away from individual bigotry. Having a common analysis and language as our foundation allows us to communicate effectively as we craft new services, policies, and procedures using an antiracist lens.  

To date, we have trained over 3,000 people, including service recipients, business, law enforcement, social service agencies, the local school board (including staff and students), and the public health department.

Building an infrastructure to support long-term change

Racial equity training is just the beginning. We are building an “infrastructure of support” so that people can truly practice what they are learning and support long-term change. We hold a facilitated debrief session after each training workshop to help participants navigate new emotions they experience, such as excitement, anger, and sadness, and explore questions they may grapple with.

White, Black, and Latinx caucuses also meet each month to deepen their analysis on racism and race equity work by reading works or watching videos on racism and race equity. They engage in ongoing facilitated conversations about how an antiracist philosophy plays out in practice.

Here are additional ways in which the county is working to become antiracist:

  • We’re continually assessing our progress towards becoming antiracist. Then, each agency works to change policies and practices that unintentionally perpetuate racism or racist practices. For example, over the past several years Broward County Human Services examined its requirements for the nonprofit service providers it funds to ensure we’re not excluding any groups. In our current cycle of funding, we’ve encouraged organizations to take an antiracist approach when serving primarily BIPOC populations. That means committing to becoming antiracist by participating in training and conducting an organizational assessment. Our next funding cycle will require these steps.
  • Last December, the Broward County Commission approved the establishment of a race equity taskforce to hold the county accountable to its goals. The commission also has approved a criminal justice and police review board, called for in the wake of George Floyd’s murder last year. The board will examine and seek to rectify disparities in the criminal justice system, from arrest rates all the way to sentencing rates.
  • Our business community has also stepped up in a meaningful way. The Broward County Chamber of Commerce, the Broward Alliance’s Prosperity Partnership, and others have prioritized racial equity as an issue to address through improved access to resources such as jobs, education, and self-sufficiency.
  • “Equity liaisons” in all 250 of our public schools create plans to increase equity in each school. The school district is also training high school kids in antiracist analysis so as they mature they can bring an antiracist perspective to their places of education or work.
  • The Florida Department of Health in Broward County is continuing to focus on health equity through a racial equity lens, particularly within the context of COVID-19 response and mitigation strategies.

 

How We’re Working Toward Becoming an Antiracist Community

May 13, 2021, 1:00 PM

What does it take to overcome systemic racism and become a community where race is not a predictor of success? An assistant county administrator shares the steps her community is taking to transform vision into reality.

A drop-in teen wellness center in Broward County, Florida (2019). Photo credit: William Widmer

I’m a Black woman adopted from the child welfare system by White parents, and I’ve been aware of the fight for racial equality all my life. But it wasn’t until five years ago that, in the course of my work, I started focusing on equity. This is the idea that we must adjust resources, transform systems and remove obstacles to create fair and just opportunities and outcomes for Black, Indigenous and other people of color (BIPOC) so that they are supported toward success.

As an assistant county administrator for the highly diverse Broward County in Florida, I was reviewing data from our child welfare system and was struck by the disparities and disproportionality. Black families were being decimated in two ZIP codes, with child removal rates two and three times higher than that of White families.

I knew right then that we had to identify the root cause of the disparities reflected in systems that perpetuate racism—while purporting to help people—and are often a barrier to health for BIPOC in this nation.

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WIC Innovates to Support Maternal and Child Health During the Pandemic

May 7, 2021, 1:00 PM, Posted by Jamie Bussel

As unemployment and food insecurity rates soared, WIC adapted to protect access for the families it serves—but more support is needed.

During the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic, Bo-Yee Poon and her children left China, where she had been studying Tai Chi for 16 years, to return home to Vermont. What she thought would be a short stay before returning to her studies turned into a much longer one as all flights back to China were grounded indefinitely. With a home but no immediate job prospects in Vermont, Bo-Yee managed to access insurance through Vermont Health Connect, which fortunately made her and her family eligible for the Special Supplemental Nutrition Program for Women, Infants, and Children (WIC).     

WIC is a federal program that provides critical nutrition assistance to lower-income women, infants, and young children. In 2019, more than 6 million people participated in WIC each month, including roughly half of all infants born in the United States. 

WIC turned out to be just what Bo-Yee and her children needed. It provided access to healthy groceries and tips on how to feed her children vegetables and fruit. But more importantly, it helped alleviate her stress and anxiety around providing nutritious food for her family. She knew that even though she couldn’t work or afford childcare, her family would be taken care of. Today, WIC has helped millions of families like Bo-Yee’s eat healthy food on a lower budget, providing a sense of relief during particularly difficult times. 

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Java2 Blog Entry

May 6, 2021, 12:00 AM

By harnessing trust, community health workers are becoming a powerful force for achieving health equity.

Vistas of a Navajo reservation.

Featured

Dr. Kangovi discusses IMPaCT, a standardized, scalable community health worker program which has been proven in three randomized controlled trials to improve chronic disease, primary care access, mental health and quality of care while reducing hospital admissions.

If you haven’t been in the shoes of the person you are working with, you are more likely to be biased. Clinicians may believe we know what our patient needs, and screen and refer her. That’s neither effective nor trustworthy. CHWs change this dynamic.

In rural Tennessee, a CHW might work at a faith-based organization. He will meet somebody at a church, food pantry or local hospital. He’ll take an hour to get to know that person—to learn where he was born, what happened in his life, what challenges he faces, his successes, and how he wants to improve his life and health. There is some shared life experience. CHWs always reflect back to the person and ask: What do you want to do about that? Then they create a step-by-step plan together. It might include battling an eviction notice, organizing a virtual funeral for someone who died of COVID, or going together to a doctor's appointment.
What role are community health workers playing in the pandemic and what role should they be playing?

COVID disparities are a symptom of an underlying pandemic of injustice that has persisted through history. Headlines have shown that Black and Brown people are disproportionately dying of COVID. Millions of Americans are going hungry in a new Great Depression while others are getting rich. Ultimately this all stems from the same problem: the trajectory of health inequities.

That’s why CHWs are an incredibly valuable workforce. They don’t just address symptoms or disease; they go straight to the root and identify solutions. We had a pandemic of racial and economic injustice long before COVID. So we need more than a vaccine. The hardest thing is to address the full range of social determinants of health but it’s the only way to advance health eq

Bringing Clean, Running Water to the Navajo Nation

May 3, 2021, 12:45 PM

Broken promises and structural racism have deprived New Mexico’s Navajo Nation of safe, running water for generations. A Navajo woman shares how she is actively changing this reality, one family at a time.

Darlene Arviso fills water tanks for Navajo tribal members. The "Water Lady" Darlene Arviso fills water tanks for Navajo tribal members who do not have access to running water. Photo credit: DigDeep, 2019.

Go to the sink, turn on the tap, get yourself a glass of water. To most people in America, this sounds like the most routine of activities. But for the families I work with on the lands of the Navajo Nation in northwest New Mexico, it is not something we can take for granted. And so when water does flow from a faucet inside a home for the first time, the tears often flow with it. This is a moment of deep gratitude and joy for us.

Tó éí ííńá át’é. In the Navajo language, that means water is life. You’ll see these words painted onto our homes and graffitied across the landscape because we understand that life can not be sustained without water. In our culture, it is a sacred element, along with Earth, fire, and air.

And yet almost one-third of my tribe lacks running water. Pause for a moment to consider what that means. The U.S. Geological Survey estimates that people in America use an average of 80-100 gallons of water every day. Our families know how to preserve scarce resources, so we use a lot less than that—but meeting basic water needs is still a complex, time-consuming task. Imagine the difficulty of attaching a hose to a 55-gallon water barrel, filling a bucket, and hauling it inside every time you want to cook, bathe, do laundry, or clean the house. Add in the costs of buying bottled water to make sure that what you drink is safe.  

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Bringing Clean, Running Water to the Navajo Nation

May 3, 2021, 12:45 PM

One third of New Mexico’s Navajo nation lacks access to running water, a resource that became even more crucial during the pandemic. Learn about efforts to improve access to this sacred resource.

Darlene Arviso fills water tanks for Navajo tribal members. The "Water Lady" Darlene Arviso fills water tanks for Navajo tribal members who do not have access to running water. Photo credit: DigDeep, 2019.

Go to the sink, turn on the tap, get yourself a glass of water. To most people in America, this sounds like the most routine of activities. But for the families I work with on the lands of the Navajo Nation in northwest New Mexico, it is not something we can take for granted. And so when water does flow from a faucet inside a home for the first time, the tears often flow with it. This is a moment of deep gratitude and joy for us.

Tó éí ííńá át’é. In the Navajo language, that means water is life. You’ll see these words painted onto our homes and graffitied across the landscape because we understand that life can not be sustained without water. In our culture, it is a sacred element, along with Earth, fire, and air.

And yet almost one-third of my tribe lacks running water. Pause for a moment to consider what that means. The U.S. Geological Survey estimates that people in America use an average of 80-100 gallons of water every day. Our families know how to preserve scarce resources, so we use a lot less than that—but meeting basic water needs is still a complex, time-consuming task. Imagine the difficulty of attaching a hose to a 55-gallon water barrel, filling a bucket, and hauling it inside every time you want to cook, bathe, do laundry, or clean the house. Add in the costs of buying bottled water to make sure that what you drink is safe.  

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Jave Blog Entry

Apr 28, 2021, 5:52 PM

A third lesson is that health equity will only result from more equitable opportunities, such as better education that can lead to higher incomes and more lifetime stability. “We know that if you haven’t graduated from high school, your life expectancy — has gotten worse over last 20 years compared to people who have high school diplomas, whose life expectancy has improved, —” Schwarz says. Thus, the focus on “cradle to career” education in Woodlawnstarting with a plan – to create a new child development center for zero-to-three year oldscan be understood as a means to improve public health as much as anything else.

boardwalk

How Communities Can Support Children and Families to Recover From the Impacts of COVID-19

Apr 26, 2021, 3:00 PM, Posted by Brian C. Quinn, Carolyn Miller

Communities nationwide are showing that helping families recover helps our society recover.

Family greets each other while wearing masks.

COVID-19 has been devastating for children and families.

Millions of parents and caregivers lost jobs and income, hindering their ability to put food on the table. School closures, remote learning, and limited-to-no access to child care has weighed heavily on many, especially those with lower incomes working essential jobs everywhere from grocery stores to nursing homes. The pandemic has also exacerbated existing housing challenges, from high rental costs to an ongoing eviction crisis.

In spite of these challenges, our colleague Jennifer Ng'andu recently noted that families are resilient and hopeful. Because the pandemic weighs so heavily on working families, a key piece of inclusive recovery is ensuring that caregivers and their children have the support they need to thrive.

As researchers, our job is to glean lessons from the data and understand what will help communities recover. Since 2016, we’ve been following 29 diverse communities to understand how they approach health, well-being, and equity. When the pandemic hit, we pivoted to focus on nine of these communities. Doing so allowed us to closely follow COVID-19’s impact and understand local response and recovery efforts.

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It Is Time to End the Sale of All Flavored Tobacco Products

Apr 23, 2021, 12:30 PM, Posted by Matt Pierce

Taking flavored tobacco products off the market would save millions of lives, reduce health care costs, and ensure an equitable approach to better health in the United States.

Smoke free signage is on display at a bustop.

Over the past few years, we have seen a growing number of states and cities adopting policies that restrict or end the sales of flavored tobacco products. For these policies to work for everyone, equity must be a central focus, and all populations must benefit from the movement’s success. This means we must push for comprehensive flavor bans and, above all, restrictions on the sale of menthol cigarettes and flavored cigars.

Tobacco companies rely on flavors because of how well they work to attract and keep new customers. For decades, the tobacco industry has specifically targeted Black people in America with advertising campaigns for menthol cigarettes and other tobacco products like flavored cigars. Like menthol cigarettes, flavored cigars have been designed to hook kids and have disproportionately harmed Black youth. After Congress banned all flavored cigarettes except menthols, cigar manufacturers increased their marketing of flavored little cigars—or cigarillos—which closely resemble cigarettes. Youth use of flavored cigars increased in subsequent years and has remained especially high among Black youth.

As a result of these pernicious marketing and sales tactics, tobacco use is the number one cause of preventable death among Black people in America, claiming 45,000 Black lives a year. Black people in America die at higher rates than other groups from tobacco-related causes like cancer, heart disease, and stroke.

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Climate Change, Environmental Justice, and the Rise of Local Solutions

Apr 15, 2021, 1:00 PM, Posted by Sharon Roerty

How can U.S. cities inspire us to tackle climate change and its health impacts? An urban alchemist-turned-funder shares reflections on where we’ve been and where we’re headed with the movement for environmental justice in the United States and abroad.

Volunteers work on an urban farm operating as a community project.

Earth Day will be 51 years young this April 22nd—and I have been a witness to every one of them. The environmental activism that it launched and inspired has shaped me as an individual, shaped culture in the U.S. and beyond, and shaped the planet we all share. And it continues to evolve, as evident by the present-day focus on environmental justice and disproportionate health impacts felt by low-income communities and communities of color. As a child of the 1970s, I have seen momentous changes—environmental policies and discoveries that pointed in the right direction, setbacks and disappointments, and profiles in courage.

As a youngster, I drew inspiration from the boldness of Jacque Cousteau, the brilliance of Jane Goodall, and the courage of Norma Rae. As an adult, I look to the power of local change agents like Majora Carter of South Bronx, NYC and Margie Eugene-Richard of Southern Louisiana. In my lifetime, I have seen the institution of recycling, lead removed from gasoline and paint, asbestos banned from buildings, and consumer preference shift toward plant-based cleaning products and chemical-free food. I am excited by the burgeoning international movement for green schoolyards. I have also seen devastating environmental crises in places like Love Canal, N.Y., Flint, Mich., the Gulf of Mexico, and Prince William Sound. All of these represent both the incredible harm and good we can do when we act collectively.

I hope in my lifetime to witness less David vs. Goliath battles for the environment and a reckoning of environmental injustices. I have hope to share.

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