Category: We Heart Health Literacy

Back in pre-COVID times, “wastewater surveillance” wasn’t a term we came across much (ever?). But that all changed due to the pandemic — and the launch of CDC’s National Wastewater Surveillance System (NWSS). Now it’s quite common to see casual mentions of wastewater surveillance, like in a news report about rising COVID cases.

As many of you know, wastewater surveillance is a way that public health professionals can track community levels of COVID. But unless you’re writing for, say, wastewater treatment plant employees (and we’re guessing most of you aren’t, dear readers), it’s a safe bet that’s lots of folks in your audience don’t know what the term “wastewater surveillance” means.

So if you find yourself mentioning wastewater surveillance in your COVID health comm materials, it’s important to clearly explain it. Here’s the gist:

Wastewater surveillance means tracking the level of COVID virus in samples of wastewater — the water that goes down the drain in our homes and businesses. It works because people with COVID (and other diseases caused by viruses) can shed very small amounts of the virus in their pee, poop, and other bodily waste. And that happens even if they don’t have symptoms. (Want to know how exactly wastewater surveillance works? Check out this nifty infographic.)

Wastewater surveillance gives public health professionals important information about how COVID and other diseases are spreading in our communities, even if people who are sick don’t go to a doctor’s office or clinic to get tested. This is very important because many people now use at-home test kits to test for COVID (if they test at all!) — meaning lots of cases aren’t reported to local health authorities. And that means official case counts may not paint an accurate picture of COVID case rates in a community.

Adding wastewater surveillance to the mix can help us get a much clearer idea of what’s going on in a community at any given time. And local public health officials can use that info to make recommendations about protective measures for their community, like mask wearing. CDC has a tool to look up wastewater reports by county and monitor trends in COVID levels over time. Put it in your health comm toolbox — and consider sharing it with your audiences as appropriate to help them stay informed and take steps to protect their health.

The bottom line: Wastewater surveillance is an important public health tool — make sure you’re clear on how to explain it in plain language if you need to.

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Copy/paste to share on social (and tag us!): Wastewater surveillance is an important #PublicHealth tool. Make sure you know how to explain it in #PlainLanguage, says CommunicateHealth: https://communicatehealth.com/wehearthealthliteracy/explaining-wastewater-surveillance/ #HealthComm 

Today, we’re shining the spotlight on a book that illuminates what it’s like to live with a hard-to-diagnose disease: The Invisible Kingdom: Reimagining Chronic Illness by Meghan O’Rourke. Part memoir, part highly researched nonfiction, it’s an eye-opening read about the experiences of people on the margins of medicine: those with a so-called “invisible illness” not easily identified or treated.

For over a decade, O’Rourke dealt with intermittent but debilitating symptoms: brain fog, vertigo, fatigue, rashes, and what she calls “electric shocks” — stabbing sensations in her arms and legs. Her symptoms were wreaking havoc on her relationships, career, and sense of self. But despite the serious impact of her illness, O’Rourke struggled to find a doctor who would take her seriously. Again and again, her symptoms were dismissed or derided, and test results and appointments often left her with more questions than answers.

The Invisible Kingdom also explores how modern medicine is contending with chronic diseases and autoimmune disorders (spoiler alert: not all that well), both of which have a lot of overlap with hard-to-diagnose conditions. We ❤️ that the author draws attention to what’s working against those with invisible illness — among other barriers to proper care, she names social determinants of health, gender bias, harmful “problem patient” stereotypes, an inefficient health care system, lack of understanding of autoimmunity, and physician burnout.

While O’Rourke eventually received diagnoses and treatments that helped, she writes that she’s never fully free from her symptoms. Health and illness are often framed as mutually exclusive states — someone is either well or unwell. But O’Rourke explains that for her and many others, the options just aren’t so clear cut. Instead, they “live in a gray area between health and disease for years … between feeling well and being symptomatic.”

There are so many important health comm takeaways from this book that we couldn’t possibly include them all. So, dear readers, here are 3:

1. Empathy is key. Of the countless doctors that O’Rourke saw, only a handful treated her with respect or took her symptoms seriously — especially after the first rounds of tests failed to identify the problem. Unsurprisingly, it’s the doctors who were willing to connect with and listen to O’Rourke that were finally able to offer some relief. Empathy, empathy, empathy!
2. Illness is isolating. O’Rourke emphasized how lonely her illness made her feel: “One of the hardest things about being ill with a poorly understood disease is that most people find what you’re going through incomprehensible — if they even believe you are going through it.” As health communicators, we can acknowledge that isolation, as well as offer guidance on how to get social support and reminders that patients deserve doctors who take their concerns seriously.
3. It’s okay (and critical!) to acknowledge what we don’t know. The Invisible Kingdom reminds us that there’s still plenty of uncertainty in medicine — particularly related to concepts like autoimmunity. And if there’s one thing we learned from the last few years, when it comes to health comm, it’s that acknowledging what we don’t know is always best.

The bottom line: Check out The Invisible Kingdom for the story of one woman’s experience with invisible illness — plus powerful health comm lessons about empathy, isolation, and uncertainty.

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Tweet about it: Check out @CommunicateHlth’s latest pick for the We ❤️ Health Literacy Book Club, The Invisible Kingdom by @meghanor. Part memoir, part nonfiction, this powerful read has powerful lessons for #HealthComm professionals: https://bit.ly/3YYlj8g

Here at We ❤️ Health Literacy HQ, we’re fond of rethinking terms that have been hanging around for a while — but, for one reason or another, aren’t getting the job done anymore. Today, we’re pondering a term that often comes up in health care: “noncompliant.”

Health care providers and other professionals may label a patient “noncompliant” if the patient isn’t following instructions or taking steps to care for their health at home (like taking medicine consistently or making changes to their eating habits). Well, we think it’s time to ditch “noncompliant,” whether you’re talking to consumers or professionals.

First, “noncompliant” paints people as rulebreakers. The word reminds us of a student getting sent to the principal’s office — or someone who has “failed to comply” with a judge’s order. It sets up an us-vs.-them dynamic, painting doctors as the authority figure and “noncompliant” patients as people who choose not to follow their simple instructions. This dynamic brings shame into the conversation — and we know, dear readers, that shame isn’t an effective tool for behavior change.

“Noncompliant” also fails to acknowledge the many reasons why people may struggle to follow health advice. Sure, it’s possible that some people just don’t like being told what to do. But we’d argue that many more people “fail to comply” for reasons outside their control. For example, if a doctor tells their patient to eat more fruits and veggies, but the patient lives in a food desert, they’re going to have a hard time finding those healthy options.

Or let’s say a doctor tells a patient who’s struggling with depression to get more physical activity. A 15-minute walk might boost the patient’s mood, but when you’re depressed, it can feel impossible to leave the couch. Similarly, many people with ADHD and other neurological conditions struggle with executive function— basically, the skills you need to plan ahead and stick to your plan. AND lest we forget that the instructions may have been so convoluted and jargon-y that the patient wasn’t clear on what they were supposed to do in the first place!

The way we talk about people influences how we treat them. Taking “noncompliant” out of our vocabulary reminds us to look at the whole picture, consider how social determinants of health play a role in individual well-being, and build respectful relationships with our audiences. Now that’s something we can get behind.

The bottom line: We think it’s time to ditch “noncompliant,” whether you’re talking to consumers or professionals.

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Tweet about it: This week, @CommunicateHlth explores why it’s time to ditch “noncompliant,” whether you’re talking to consumers or professionals: https://bit.ly/45CJL1H #HealthComm #HealthLiteracy

Here at We ❤️ Health Literacy HQ, finding effective ways to fight misinformation is one of our top priorities. It’s why we’re big fans of the trusty truth sandwich. And today we’d like to tell you about another important mythbusting method: prebunking.

Prebunking is based on inoculation theory, a psychological framework that aims to prepare people in advance to resist unwanted persuasion attempts. The idea? Just like giving people a weakened dose of a virus protects them from a disease, giving them a “weakened dose” of misinformation can help them spot misinformation in the future. And when it comes to health info, that can go a long way toward helping people make super important decisions.

Like its cousin debunking, prebunking disproves false claims — but prebunking is likely to have a more widespread impact. That’s because prebunking equips people to think critically about (mis)information rather than automatically accepting it as fact. Effectively debunking false claims, on the other hand, is notoriously hard. Once people accept something as true, explaining that it’s false may just not work.

Okay, back to prebunking. There are 2 main types of prebunks:

• Fact-based: warning people about a specific false claim they might see or hear — and correcting that claim
• Logic-based: explaining the techniques that people who spread false information use to manipulate folks

While both can help us combat misinformation, logic-based prebunks in particular can have far-reaching effects. Let’s play out an example. Say you’re creating materials to warn newly pregnant people about the dangers of crisis pregnancy centers — which masquerade as legitimate health centers but often lie and use shame and fear to keep people from getting abortions.

You might say: “Abortion does not raise your risk for cancer. Clinics that say it does are usually fake health centers that spread false information to prevent abortion. But the truth is that abortion is very safe. So be on the lookout for fake clinics that say otherwise!” (Look familiar? Yep, that’s a prebunk that basically takes the form of a truth sandwich!) This is a fact-based prebunk, and it may make sense to use fact-based prebunks strategically to address particularly widespread or harmful false claims. That said, crisis pregnancy centers spread so much false information that trying to refute each claim would be inefficient — and likely ineffective.

That’s where logic-based prebunks come in. Sticking with our example, this means clearly explaining the tactics these places use to prevent folks from getting abortions. For example, you could say: “Crisis pregnancy centers use fear and shame to try to keep people from getting abortions. So if a clinic gives you information that’s overly scary or makes you feel ashamed for considering an abortion, it’s probably a crisis pregnancy center and not a real health clinic. Clinic staff should give you the facts in a non-judgmental way that doesn’t make you feel bad about yourself or your decision.”

The bottom line: Prebunking is an effective method for fighting misinformation — especially when it helps audiences understand and spot misinformation tactics.

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Tweet about it: Prebunking is a super useful #HealthComm tool for fighting #misinformation, especially when you expose misinformation tactics. More from @CommunicateHlth: https://bit.ly/3sdLknU

Here at We ❤️ Health Literacy HQ, we don’t really need another reason to love libraries — but they just keep popping up on a printing press-sized platter. Yep, we’re talking about how libraries across the country are pushing back against attempts from conservative lawmakers and advocacy groups to ban books and restrict what people can access through their local library. (Don’t even get us started on recent book bans in schools!) For example, check out this TikTok video by a group of Illinois librarians, featuring a special guest appearance by a former President.

To no one’s great surprise, many of the books being targeted showcase representations of communities of color, LGBTQ+ people, and other groups already marginalized by right-wing conservative politics. As health communicators, we know how much representation matters. We also know that health education doesn’t just happen at the doctors’ office or in a classroom. It happens when kids look at a picture book that helps them understand how their bodies work. Or when tweens pick up a novel that gets them thinking about their gender identity. And yes, sometimes it happens when teens read about tough topics — like abuse or depression — and start asking equally tough questions.

The ability to make informed decisions about health — that is, the desired outcome when we create health education materials using health literacy best practices — depends on having access to accurate information, without censorship or political agenda. Full stop. And that’s exactly what our libraries are fighting for. So go ahead and show them some love in the name of (health) literacy!

The bottom line: Libraries provide free, equitable access to (health) information. Let’s help it stay that way.

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Copy/paste to share on social (and tag us!): As libraries nationwide are facing funding cuts, books bans, and more, let’s show some love to these invaluable community orgs. CommunicateHealth reminds us why it’s important to show up #ForOurLibraries: https://communicatehealth.com/wehearthealthliteracy/things-we-3-libraries/ #HealthComm #UniteAgainstBookBans

Today, we’re going to finish our conversation about implicit (or unconscious) bias. As you may recall, we started talking about this topic last month, and it was clear right away that it was going to be a 2-parter. So, if you missed it or need a refresher, check out the first installment of this set before you read on. In that post, we discussed what implicit bias is, why it happens, and why it’s important.

We also explained how actively challenging stereotypes can help us work against implicit bias. Indeed, research suggests that when we intentionally challenge stereotypes, we can retrain our brains so that our automatic responses aren’t shaped by our implicit biases. For example, the piece we shared in part 1 from the American Academy of Family Physicians discusses the specific strategy of “counter-stereotypic imaging” — essentially, once you’ve identified a bias, you actively work against it by bringing positive, non-stereotypical images to the surface of your brain in order to replace your implicit responses. According to the piece, “as positive exemplars become more salient in your mind, they become cognitively accessible and challenge your stereotypic biases.” That’s the retraining part.

Here are a few more tips to help you check implicit bias at the door:

• Get comfortable thinking critically about your own perspectives and sitting with tough stuff. Challenging implicit bias isn’t easy — but it’s one of the most important things we can do as health communicators and, frankly, as people. Over the last few years, there’s been a long-overdue reckoning with the damaging health effects of institutional racism and the fact that traditional public health approaches have reinforced harmful inequities. That’s why our equity-centered health comm framework includes nuggets like this: “Humility in health communication is the practice of self-reflection on how our own background and biases impact every aspect of the communication process. And this includes an examination of power dynamics and imbalances in our work.” Try to make friends with the discomfort so that challenging implicit bias becomes second nature.
• Let your audience share their experiences and preferences. That means getting real feedback from real audience members to ensure you understand their needs and leverage the right strategies to meet them. It does not mean creating a narrative for them based on our understanding of their experiences.
• Build in time for reflection — on your own and with your colleagues. Put simply, uncovering and challenging our own implicit biases takes, well, time! That said, the public health field isn’t known for its abundance of available resources, so we recognize that this might not always be realistic. But when you can, take time as you develop your health comm materials or design your intervention to reflect on your own and with others on your project team. Talk to each other about what’s coming up for each of you — good chance you’ll learn something (and more likely, lots of things).
• Think carefully about intersectionality within audience segments. Effectively reaching our priority audiences often means tailoring our materials to very specific subgroups, or audience segments. But what we often overlook is the intersectionality that exists within these segments — we need to think both across and within audience segments. So if you’re working on materials tailored to Black women, are you also thinking about Black lesbians? Biracial women who identify as Black? Essentially, make sure the conversation you’re having with yourself and your colleagues is the whole conversation.
• Read materials multiple times with different lenses. Disclaimer: There’s nothing evidence-based about this, but we find that it can make a difference. If you’re working on an original material, “assign” yourself different lenses for multiple reviews. For example, if you’re writing about diabetes among Hispanic people, read the whole material through once while thinking only about how the content might land with your audience — not about whether your plain language explanation of diabetes is getting the job done. Isolating specific things you want to focus on helps your brain do just that: focus on them. (This is also a good strategy for proofreading. But we digress.)

Before we close this one out, we want to acknowledge that this is hard. Trying to be conscious of something that literally (sometimes) has unconscious in its name is hard! But if we’re going to approach this work with empathy — and help make sure our audiences feel seen, respected, and valued — it’s a must.

The bottom line: Challenging our own implicit biases is tricky. It’s also a must for health communicators.

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Tweet about it: In part 2 of a mini-series on #ImplicitBias for health communicators, the @CommunicateHlth crew shares tips to help challenge those biases in #HealthComm. Take a look: https://bit.ly/43F7MTX

This week, we’re discussing something we often encounter in health comm: BMI, or body mass index. As you probably know, BMI is a number calculated using a person’s height and weight. In the most basic terms, doctors (and insurance companies!) use it to put people into 1 of 4 categories: underweight, healthy weight, overweight, and obesity. This is supposed to help assess how much body fat a person has and their relative health.

But, as you also probably know, BMI has long faced criticism from experts in just about every relevant discipline — not-so-favorable characterizations have ranged from just not that useful for individuals to a racist, sexist, misused tool that’s done serious harm. Regardless, for the most part, BMI has stuck around. But a recent announcement from the American Medical Association (AMA) may be about to change that, and we’re here for it.

Last month, the AMA issued a press release detailing its new policy that clarifies how BMI should be used (with “other valid risk measures”) and aims to build that knowledge among health care providers. The release references a report that concluded BMI is “an imperfect way to measure body fat in multiple groups given that it does not account for differences across race/ethnic groups, sexes, genders, and age-span.” The press release doesn’t mince words:

Under the newly adopted policy, the AMA recognizes issues with using BMI as a measurement due to its historical harm, its use for racist exclusion, and because BMI is based primarily on data collected from previous generations of non-Hispanic white populations. … The policy noted that BMI is significantly correlated with the amount of fat mass in the general population but loses predictability when applied on the individual level. The AMA also recognizes that relative body shape and composition differences across race/ethnic groups, sexes, genders, and age-span is essential to consider when applying BMI as a measure of adiposity and that BMI should not be used as a sole criterion to deny appropriate insurance reimbursement.

Well! It certainly sounds like this could have some serious (and overdue) implications for the health care field and health communicators like us. There’s a lot to say about how this might affect the conversation about weight in health care more broadly (be on the lookout for more on that!). But for now, we’d love to hear from you: Does BMI have a place in health care? Are you celebrating its apparent demotion? What broader implications could this update have? How should we contextualize BMI in plain language health materials?

Respond to this email or find us on social (LinkedIn or Twitter) and let us know what you think! And to learn more about this topic, check out the July issue of AMA’s Journal of Ethics — it includes multiple articles that explore BMI’s history, its current use, and related ethical issues.

The bottom line: Hats off to the American Medical Association, which recently released a new policy scrutinizing BMI and clarifying its appropriate use. This could have big implications for health care (and health comm).

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Tweet about it: This week, the @CommunicateHlth crew is chatting about @AmerMedicalAssn’s new #BMI policy, which could have big implications for health care (and #HealthComm): https://bit.ly/46U0Yo5 #HealthLiteracy

Here at We ❤️ Health Literacy Headquarters, we find ourselves writing about clinical research on the reg. That means we spend a lot (like, a lot) of time thinking about the best way to explain various clinical trial jargon terms in plain language. And frankly, sometimes we could use a little help!

Luckily, when we need an assist, we can turn to the Clinical Research Glossary from the Multi-Regional Clinical Trials (MRCT) Center of Brigham and Women’s Hospital and Harvard. It provides clear, simple definitions for a bunch of research-related jargon terms. And while we may adapt the definitions — say, to better fit the tone of a material — they can go a long way toward helping us clearly explain tricky terms.

So whether you’re writing materials for study participants, explaining vaccine trial phases to boost public confidence in the process, or reporting on the results of a specific study, give MRCT’s Clinical Research Glossary a look!

(One quick aside: While glossaries can be super helpful for health communicators like us, we generally still recommend against including them in consumer-facing materials — or at least relying on them alone to help consumers navigate jargon-y materials. Glossaries require cross-referencing, which can be hard for folks with limited literacy skills. Instead, stick with tried-and-true plain language best practices!)

The bottom line: Communicating clearly about clinical research is tricky. The MRCT Center’s Clinical Research Glossary makes it easier by providing plain language definitions for a long list of jargon terms!

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Tweet about it: Looking for a #HealthComm resource to help you write #PlainLanguage content about clinical research? Check out @MRCTCenter’s Clinical Research Glossary, says @CommunicateHlth: https://bit.ly/3pufzpw #HealthLiteracy

Here at We ❤️ Health Literacy HQ, Ted Lasso has been one of our fave binges. It’s got it all: sporty spirit, lotsa laughs, trendy mustaches, feelgood vibes, realistic depictions of panic attacks, wait a second… yep, that’s right! Ted Lasso also brings some important lessons about mental health to the proverbial table. And we’re not the only ones who have been thinking about — and appreciating — that part of the show. In fact, a few months ago, some of the cast visited the White House to talk about mental health.

“No matter who you are, no matter where you live, no matter who you voted for,” said Lasso (aka Jason Sudeikis) at a press briefing during the visit, “we all know someone — or have been that someone — that’s struggled, that’s felt isolated, that’s felt anxious, that has felt alone. And it’s actually one of the many things that — believe it or not — that we all have in common as human beings. And it’s something that we should all talk about.”

We couldn’t agree more, dear readers! And we ❤️ to see messages like this coming from pop culture superstars like our friend Ted. Here are 3 key mental health lessons we’re taking from Ted Lasso:

1. It’s okay not to be okay. The show normalizes depression, anxiety, and panic attacks in a way that few pieces of fiction do — without theatrics, but with empathy, honesty, and authenticity. It sends the message that it’s human to struggle, as most of us do at some point in our lives. And if that’s not an important message right about now, we don’t know what is.
2. It’s okay to ask for help. At first, Ted rejects the idea of getting counseling to deal with his panic attacks and past trauma. He’s not alone in his initial skepticism — mental health problems, and services designed to address them, still come with a lot of stigma. By learning to embrace his therapy sessions with Dr. Sharon, and opening up about his struggles, Ted sets an example for all of us.
3. It’s okay not to be perfect. The show is full of imperfect characters. They’re jealous, vindictive, and grumpy. They make questionable decisions that hurt the people they love. They are, in Ted’s words, a “work in prog-mess”. But they’re trying — and at least in Ted Lasso’s world, that’s enough.

Is Ted Lasso going to miraculously solve the mental health crisis in this country? Sadly, no. Conditions like anxiety, depression, and panic disorders (and the issues that cause them) are very real, and a TV show isn’t going to change that. But the way mental health issues are portrayed in the media matters, and it’s nice to see a show do this realistically, accessibly, and with kindness. And maybe, just maybe, watching Ted Lasso can make some of us feel just a little less alone.

To close with the words of our protagonist: “There is something worse out there than being sad, and that is being alone and being sad. Ain’t nobody in this room alone. Let’s be sad now. Let’s be sad together.”

The bottom line: We’re long overdue in terms of normalizing talking about mental health. Popular TV shows like Ted Lasso — with realistic and empathetic depictions of mental health issues — can really help.

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Tweet about it: Ted Lasso brings the feelgood vibes — and a few lessons on talking about #MentalHealth. @CommunicateHlth is here for it: https://bit.ly/3qXgfEi #HealthComm

This Pride Month we’ve been reflecting on some of the amazing accomplishments of LGBTQ+ people across the country and around the world. Accomplishments made in the face of discrimination that’s existed for centuries and persists today — as demonstrated by the 300-plus anti-LGBTQ+ bills introduced in U.S. state legislatures in 2022 alone. (Note: This post was first published in 2022. To get an idea of current legislation targeting the rights of LGBTQ+ people, check out the ACLU’s tracker.)

So today we’re honoring some of the LGBTQ+ people whose contributions have shaped public health, health communication, and health education. Here are just a few of their stories.

Dr. Sophia Jex-Blake
In 1869, Sophia Jex-Blake wanted to become a doctor, but she was rejected from medical school because she was a woman. Her response? Well, to spend the rest of her career creating places for women in medicine, of course! She published an essay called Medicine as a Profession for Women and rallied a group of 6 other female applicants. The “Edinburgh Seven” then gained acceptance to the University of Edinburgh, but the school ultimately kept them from graduating. Undeterred, Dr. Jex-Blake cofounded the London School of Medicine for Women and lobbied for legislation that allowed women to take medical licensing exams. After (finally!) earning an MD herself, she became the first female doctor to practice in Scotland. Then she established another medical school — the Edinburgh School of Medicine for Women. Um, wow.

Dr. Sara Josephine Baker
The first woman to earn a doctorate degree in public health, Dr. Sara Josephine Baker helped contain New York City’s typhoid epidemic at the turn of the twentieth century. She played a key role in identifying cook Mary Mallon (aka “Typhoid Mary”) as an asymptomatic carrier and getting her out of the kitchen. When she wasn’t busy tracking down Mary — and, depending on your source material, almost getting stabbed with a fork by Mary — Dr. Baker dedicated her career to reducing infant mortality. She educated parents and community members in NYC’s poorest neighborhoods about infant care and hygiene practices like handwashing, advocating for preventive care way before it was cool, errr … a cornerstone of public health.

Dr. Bruce Voeller
Biologist Dr. Bruce Voeller played a pivotal role in early AIDS research — in fact, he even gave the condition its name. In the early years of the epidemic, AIDS was known by a few different names, including gay-related immune defense disorder, or GRIDD. Dr. Voeller very correctly pointed out that this term was both stigmatizing and inaccurate (hello, health comm!) — and coined the term we use today. Dr. Voeller went on to conduct pioneering research on using condoms and spermicides to prevent the spread of HIV. He also founded the National Gay Task Force (now the National LGBTQ Task Force) — the first group to meet with the President to advocate for the rights of gay and lesbian Americans. Dr. Voeller passed away from complications of AIDS in 1994.

Audre Lorde
Audre Lorde often introduced herself as “Black, lesbian, mother, warrior, poet.” Though she’s best known for confronting systemic racism, sexism, and homophobia through her poetry, Lorde also wrote about her experience with cancer. When Lorde was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1977, she couldn’t find any stories of Black lesbian women dealing with similar situations, so she decided to write her own in The Cancer Journals. In doing so, she gave a voice to women, people of color, and LGBTQ+ people whose experiences with cancer didn’t fit the standard narratives of the time.

Phill Wilson
In 1999, Phill Wilson cofounded the Black AIDS Institute (BAI), an organization dedicated to ending the AIDS epidemic in the Black community. Wilson saw that Black Americans were disproportionately affected by HIV/AIDS, yet they were often left out of existing education initiatives. To fill this communication gap, BAI partnered with Black community leaders and media organizations — empowering these trusted messengers to dismantle stigma and deliver important health information. Today BAI continues to mobilize and educate Black Americans about HIV/AIDS treatment and care. In addition to his work with BAI, Wilson was appointed to the President’s Advisory Council on HIV/AIDS by President Obama, served as a World AIDS Summit delegate, and cofounded the National Task Force on AIDS Prevention.

Admiral Dr. Rachel Levine
In March 2021, Dr. Rachel Levine was appointed the United States Assistant Secretary for Health under President Biden — making her the nation’s highest-ranking openly transgender official. Just a few months later, she became a four-star admiral in the U.S. Public Health Service Commissioned Corps. Earlier in her career, Dr. Levine worked as a pediatrician and clinical researcher. She also served as Pennsylvania’s Physician General and Secretary of Health, where she worked to address the state’s opioid crisis, improve maternal health, and slow the spread of COVID-19. Reflecting on her career, Dr. Levine said, “I really feel that everything I’ve ever done … has all led to this moment in terms of helping the nation through this greatest public health crisis that we have faced in over a hundred years.”

We found so many inspiring stories of LGBTQ+ public health pioneers — and we wish we could have included them all! If you have a story to share, you can respond to this email or find us on Twitter or LinkedIn. We’d ❤️ to hear from you!

The bottom line: Let’s honor LGBTQ+ people who have made key contributions to public health — this month and every month.

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Copy/paste to share on social (and tag us!): In honor of #PrideMonth, CommunicateHealth revisits an all-time favorite blog post — a celebration of LGBTQ+ people who have helped shape #PublicHealth, #HealthComm, and #HealthEd: https://communicatehealth.com/wehearthealthliteracy/celebrating-lgbtq-public-health-heroes/