COVID-19 Is Not The Only Pandemic We Are Facing

Recently, I have been doing quite a bit of reflection about the state of affairs related to the many inequities afflicted upon the Black, Indigenous and People of Color (BIPOC) community. The COVID-19 pandemic has been a double-edged sword. On the positive side, it has shed a light on the unacceptable and long-standing health disparities that have disproportionately impacted the BIPOC community, disparities we all knew existed but were vastly ignored. On the negative side, it has further exacerbated those health disparities, widening the income and wealth gap, and worsening food, economic, and housing insecurity. 

Irrespective of the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic, inequitable policies, such as redlining, or minimum wage, have damaged the overall health of our communities for far too long. I expect our legislators to represent all community members, including the BIPOC community in an equitable way. I’m beyond disappointed that this has not always been the case. Even decisions that were made decades ago such as zoning, segregation, and unequal investment in communities still plague the BIPOC community today. Racial inequality in home ownership is only one glaring result that still exists. 

These inequities determine investments that are provided, or not, to certain communities which influence the social determinants of health that in turn impact quality of life within certain communities, which ultimately impact health disparities. It’s a vicious cycle that explains why we see a direct correlation between zip code and the life span of residents in certain under resourced and neglected communities. The lack of equitable community investment creates a lack of access to resources available to meet basic needs. This translates into the creation of food, medical, and Wi-Fi deserts. These are all critical elements that prevent people from living and sustaining healthy lives. 

A Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority report shows how structural racism, discrimination, and unconscious bias in housing, employment, criminal justice, and child welfare policies have led to overrepresentation of Black people experiencing homelessness. For example, Blacks represent only 9% of LA’s population yet account for 33% of the homeless population. 

While reflecting, I asked myself, “Why is that?” This simple question sparked my curiosity and challenged me to dig deeper, especially in light of many recent events.  

I can’t help but ask why is it that unarmed Black people ended up dead after a simple, and often unwarranted, traffic stop when people of other persuasions commit mass murders and get to walk away alive and often completely unharmed? 

And, why is that at 36, Shalon Irving, with a B.A. in sociology, two master's degrees and a dual-subject Ph.D, a promising epidemiologist at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) and among their elite ranks, collapses and dies from complications of high blood pressure three weeks after giving birth? Why are Black women

243% more likely to die from pregnancy, or childbirth-related causes? Why are Black women two to three times more likely to die than white women from medical complications that are common causes of maternal death and injury? And, why, according to a CNN report, are Black babies more likely to survive childbirth if they are cared for by Black doctors, but three times more likely than White babies to die when looked after by White doctors? 

How can we ignore all the evidence that points to the fact that racism is a public health crisis?  

Why are voting rights being rolled back with surgical precision? Why have legislators introduced 389 bills with restrictive provisions in 48 states. Twenty-two of those bills with restrictive provisions have already been enacted. In addition, at least 61 bills with restrictive provisions in 18 states are moving through legislatures: 31 have passed at least one chamber, while another 30 have had some sort of committee action. 

Why is this happening? 

Why are legislators trying to block the teaching of The 1619 Project in public schools as part of U.S. history? Why was Nikole Hannah-Jones, a New York Times Investigative Journalist, a 2017 Emerson Fellow at the New America Foundation, a recipient of the MacArthur Foundation fellowship, and a Pulitzer Prize Winner for her work on The 1619 Project denied a tenured professorship as the Knight Chair in Race and Investigative Journalism at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, of all things? 

Why do Black-led nonprofits suffer from inequities too? Something otherwise referred to as the philanthropy giving gap. Black-led organizations remain underfunded compared to organizations led by our White counterparts, according to a report published by Echoing Green and Bridgespan. The report also found that the revenues of Black-led organizations are, on average, 24% smaller than those of White-led nonprofits. The study also found that organizations led by Black women consistently receive less funding than those led by Black men or White women. 

Why is this happening? 

Why was Naomi Osaka fined $15,000, threatened with suspension, and then chastised by the tennis federation for her decision to put her own mental health and well-being first rather than grant an interview with the press after her first round French Open match last weekend? Yes, she violated article III H. of the Code of Conduct, but I couldn’t help but wonder what the overall response would have been if Roger Federer had done the exact same thing?  

Asking the “why” about Naomi was sort of the tipping point for me. Not that all of the aforementioned “whys” don’t bother me more, it’s just that it hit me even harder that racial bias, whether conscious or unconscious is everywhere – in sports, at work, in healthcare, in income, and I could go on. I would even venture to say that racism is itself a pandemic. It’s not just here in the U.S., but it seems much more pervasive here –definitely even more so as of late. 

Just like policies can create inequities, policies in turn can be used to create more equitable conditions for all. Policies like SB 464, SB 17, and the Racial and Health Equity Fund all aim to achieve greater racial equity and close the gap in health disparities for the BIPOC community in California. 

So, we believe that there is hope. That’s why we, at the California Black Health Network, work tirelessly every day to do our part to ensure we create a California where every African American and Black Immigrant has the opportunity to live long healthy lives, free from violence, racism, and health inequities. We know that we would not be able to accomplish this without the help and support of our partners who do the same thing, and who are as passionate as we are about creating a more equitable and just California. 

We recognize what a difference it makes and how important it is that we work together when there’s one common goal, and we would like to extend our deepest gratitude to those individuals who went above and beyond to the call of duty, and to all our Health Equity and Racial Justice Fund Coalition partners who were instrumental to get us one step closer to realizing this vision. Thank you to the Asian Pacific Partners for Empowerment, Advocacy and Leadership (APPEAL), Black Women for Wellness Action Project, California Black Women’s Health Project, California Latinas for Reproductive Justice, California Pan-Ethnic Health Network, Latino Coalition for a Healthy California, Public Health Advocates, Public Health Institute, Roots Community Health Center, and Roots of Change.