Health Equity: We Need to Commit to Compassion So We Can Forge a Healthier Future Together
The extraordinary events of the last year have emphasized and exacerbated the divisions within our communities, deepening the fault lines between those who’ve had the resilience, opportunity and resources to safely weather the storm and those who’ve struggled to keep their heads above water.
When a crisis like COVID-19 hits, it provides a stark reminder of the inequities that give some of us buoyant head starts and others an exhausting deficit that makes attaining basic parity unimaginably difficult. How can we ever view our society as free and fair when our birth rights are so divergent?
The Robert Wood Johnson Foundation defines health equity as providing everyone with a “fair and just opportunity to be as healthy as possible.” Importantly, the definition links the obstacles to health — “poverty and discrimination” — with their inevitable consequences, including “powerlessness and lack of access to good jobs with fair pay, quality education and housing, safe environments, and health care.”
How we at IWBI can advance health equity is a topic that’s been much on my mind recently. I know that if we are to tackle this issue effectively, we need to better understand how deprivation impacts communities across the U.S. and the world. Over the holidays I fell down the rabbit hole and watched dozens of documentaries that offer an insight into various communities across the geographical, social and political spectrums. So many lives and experiences are vastly different from my own. I was especially moved by the stories told in Hillbilly, a compelling account of individuals living in Appalachia who seem to feel every bit as ignored, marginalized, forgotten and disadvantaged as people of color in the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement.
In times like these, it’s easy to fixate on the differences that divide us, instead of focusing on what we have in common. From film to film, a pattern emerged. From social movements that are speaking out, to political factions that are acting out — what they all shared was the accrual of years and years of feeling unheard, feeling unseen and truly suffering.
There is so much danger in rushing to judgment without context or compassion. Yet it’s hard to suspend judgment when we’re caught up in the unending stream of opinions that flow from our news, media and social platforms each day, with algorithms designed to fill our feeds only with thoughts and ideas aligned to our personal beliefs.
I was shocked, horrified and deeply saddened by the storming of the U.S. Capitol building. I live in D.C., I grew up in D.C. and I never imagined I would witness the scene that played out on January 6, right in my own backyard. I condemn the violent actions of these domestic terrorists and believe that the perpetrators should be brought to justice. But the blaming and shaming that has occurred in the aftermath is ultimately unproductive and serves only to widen the rift between us instead of bridging the chasm.
Our nation stands divided. Every one of us is angry; we are all calling for change. Can we commit to doing more listening than silencing? Can we commit to doing more learning than finger-pointing?
As hard as it is to acknowledge, a common thread runs through the lived experiences of people who are so fed up that they feel compelled to take to the streets — even though they may have polarized views. It’s impossibly hard for someone marching in support of BLM to understand the motivations behind a group intent on storming the Capitol with confederate flags held aloft. And yet, each feels overlooked and marginalized to the point at which they just can’t see a positive version of the future for themselves and their families.
By recognizing this commonality, we can find a crucial wellspring of compassion.
The notion that health and well-being are choices is a myth. Our zip code has more impact on our health than our genetic code. The advances we seek require a radical transformation of our physical and social environments, most especially in low income and historically marginalized communities. It’s where we have the biggest opportunity to effect the greatest change — a change we all need, and one that everyone deserves.
At IWBI, each WELL journey begins by exploring what ails a community, allowing us to uncover and analyze its root causes. It’s time to look through this same analytical lens at the scale of the city, the country and the world. Only by being present to the pain of others, by immersing ourselves in the stories and struggles of all communities — and by examining the abundant data available to us — can we build an effective roadmap to better health and enhanced well-being.
Today is Martin Luther King Day. His words still resonate profoundly in a world where achieving true health equity can still feel like a pipe dream: “I have the audacity to believe that peoples everywhere can have three meals a day for their bodies, education and culture for their minds, and dignity, equality, and freedom for their spirits.”
A thriving society depends on us all accepting shared responsibility for the health and well-being of all its members — including those whose views may feel antithetical to our own. In order to truly advance the ambition of health equity we first have to find compassion for all people everywhere. Even those who have committed heinous acts, violating the very foundations of our democracy.
If we really believe in health equity, we simply don’t have the luxury of saying: “It’s not for you.” What if instead of calling people out, we called them in?
Rachel Hodgdon is president and CEO of the International WELL Building Institute (IWBI), a public benefit corporation and the world’s leading organization focused on deploying people first places to advance a global culture of health.
IWBI has launched the Health Equity Advisory. Please click here to learn more and apply.
