This Week: Poetic Justice

Everybody wants a taste of the ‘hood

Everybody sings a long with the songs about doing no good

But if you laid there, if you stayed there and couldn’t escape

How many hooks would you repeat about the dirty money you make?

When I was younger the cool thing was to wear baggy pants

Have a limp in your step til you hop up in mom’s minivan

Wearing And1’s and Polo, maybe a Nike wristband

Cuz you’re a baller, shot caller, right? That’s how the words go?

What if you knew they’re only expectation was you go to jail or go pro?

What if you did move on and upward, toward a college degree?

And you excel and do well despite their suspect on your pedigree

You’re all black in all-white schools

In the back but you’re no fool

But the last time you sat front row

The professor slowed down when he spoke to you

And every time you speak up they’re surprised at your eloquence

And should you let loose in front of friends

You hear gasps and “Oh my gosh, say that again!”

Like a puppet. A showman. Just a little more well-spoken than those crazy ones in the YouTube video they’re forwardin’

Is it fair for you to anger or be frustrated at this scene?

After all you were in the library with Soulja Boy on your laptop screen

And then your ringtone went off and Kanye crooned “ghetto university”

And that’s where you grew up, in the School of Hard Knocks

Rocks in palms on your block and you did your best to get out without a jump or gunshot

But, who said they needed saving? Who said they needed help?

Plenty are satisfied and don’t fold despite the hand that they’ve been dealt

When “experts” tell them it’s too much for them to bear

That someone must step in and show “the underprivileged” we care

We have what they don’t. We can succeed where they won’t.

They is not black, they is anyone who has ever been held back

And told that they were equal

They is anyone who was put up in a coop, or sat out on a stoop

‘Cause they were not welcome in buildings, though they paid taxes, too.

They is not Muslim, they is anyone who has ever been held back

When they just tried to move forward. But somehow every time they’re chosen from a random assortment

And then holed up in a room. Hold up. You’ll be released soon.

They is not Jew, they is anyone who was imprisoned in a place they were told would have enough room

But because of their looks, because they looked like they could be crooks

Even though they did no crime except to protest what sat on the books

Persecuted for money, of which they had none, and because they were broke the only choice for their first son

Was be cut up and dragged out, before he could witness the warm sun

There’s not enough room on this mattress for plus one

Not enough air in the casket you pay rent for every month

But somehow every Thanksgiving you fit the whole family in

Grateful at least for a meal and a place to block out the wind

So take back your advice and your Superman complex

That attitude is obtuse your spirit is convex

You’re thinking because you were schooled, because you read about it in school

That you know the rules and the needs and the way to save me from this cruel world

You school boy and school girl

you have attended university but still have no concept of adversity

No respect for diversity.  And you studied facts but you haven’t learned me

You can’t come in with your theories and stethoscope trying to cure

things of which you’re unsure

So be humble and open your eyes to the reason that I’m hurt, but don’t cry

I don’t have luxury to sit by. There are mouths to feed, clothes to dry

And I take the 6 bus to the Red line then walk a few blocks to the bread line

And get back in an hour so that I can pick my daughter up on time

I don’t lay hands except for prayer, so don’t assume I’ll fight back when you arrive

Come with an open mind. Although you’re degree says you’re qualified

You never lived and haven’t seen,

so step back before you step in to save me from misery

This isn’t a study…but you can learn a lot in this ghetto university.

-CelesteAurora

The Great American SmokeOut

During the month of November, which is always reserved to promote lung cancer awareness, BPHSN participated in the Great American SmokeOut. Every year, the American Cancer Society designates a day to encourage people to start their smoking quit plan, or to plan ahead and make the Great American Smokeout day their quit date. Of course, BPHSN played an active role in the event that the Student Health Service and Office of External Relations hosted for a GW campus-wide SmokeOut.

Chidimma Acholonu, a BPHSN E-board member and Community-Oriented Primary Care MPH student, hosted a smoking trivia game table on University Yard during the event. Despite the chilly temperature, Chidimma represented BPHSN for 3 hours, asking questions of passers-by and handing out prizes for participants. 

Other tables at the event included a Wall of Reasons, where people wrote down why they smoke or don’t smoke and why they’d like to quit on faux bricks and help build a "support wall"; and various resource tables with snacks, prescription information, and other activities that quitting smokers can use to suppress their desires to smoke until the craving passes and addiction is broken. The entire University Yard was covered in bubbles, as people were encouraged to “blow bubbles, not smoke”, and the pathways were lined with interesting facts about the effects of smoking. 

Kudos to Ms. Acholonu for representing BPHSN at the SmokeOut! For those of you who would like more info about quitting smoking, visit the American Cancer Society’s website for some starting tips on how to quit; or if you’re a GW student, schedule an appointment with Student Health Service for personal counseling and assistance.

Do well on your finals everyone, and see you at the holiday party on Friday!

This Week: Food For Thought

Ladies and gents, it is my pleasure to introduce this week's guest blogger, class of 2010 MPH Candidate, Acasia Olson. As a member of the Metropolitan Washington Public Health Association's GetFED: Food Equality in D.C. subcommittee, Acasia has a unique and informed insight into a major health problem occurring right in GW's backyard.

A Google search of the 2010 national health awareness issues will direct you to a site listing a day, week, or month dedicated to over 100 public health issues. From Celiac Disease to nutrition awareness or minority health, individuals and groups alike have organized and rallied to bring attention to preventable and often overlooked health concerns. While some of us may have known that November was American Diabetes Month, how many of you can say you were excited in the days leading up to National Food Desert Awareness Month? No, seriously…For those of you who almost dropped that leftover turkey leg in surprise, I’m here to tell you that September is recognized as Food Desert Awareness Month. You may be wondering why I would be talking about an observance that took place three months ago. Food deserts are a social determinant that cause a huge disparity within the public's health.

The US Department of Agriculture defines food deserts (not to be confused with the decadent sumptuousness of pumpkin pie and peach cobbler), as geographic areas where access to nutritious, affordable, healthy foods is extremely limited, or absent. Instead of shopping at full scale grocery stores or in farmers’ markets, people trapped in food deserts must rely on an overwhelming supply of fast food, carry-out and cornerstore establishments for their daily source of pseudo-nutrients. Further, food deserts are most often found in communities with large minority populations and low-socioeconomic status. 

So what does this have to do with you, an aspiring or current public health professional in the nation’s capital? I’m glad you asked. I won’t belabor you with statistics which state that D.C. wards 4, 5, 7, and 8 have the highest proportion of overweight/obesity and diabetes. And, I don’t want to assume you’re oblivious of CDC data from 2010, which reports African-Americans as having a 51% higher prevalence of obesity than Whites, and that related illnesses have become increasingly endemic in low-income communities. You’re probably sharp enough to notice that these days, the “chocolate city” isn’t all that sweet. But it can be, and will be. 

The D.C. Council has taken legal action to eliminate the presence of food deserts, through the introduction of the Food, Environment and Economic Development of DC (FEED DC) Act of 2010. Non-profit organizations, such as D.C. Hunger Solutions and Healthy Solutions, D.C. are working with food businesses and residents to increase access to healthy affordable food. The Metropolitan Washington Public Health Association (MWPHA) has also taken action, through the tireless efforts of their GetFED: Food Equality in DC subcommittee, which currently consists of MPH students and interested community members. While members of these groups have made commendable strides, the work has only just begun. Though there may be a shortage of equal access to healthy food within the District, there isn’t a shortage of passionate members within the community of public health…can we count on you?

For more information on ways to eliminate food deserts, visit us at: GetFED, or send us an email at: getfeddc@gmail.com

This Week: Strictly for the Grown and Sexy

In '04, Usher, Lil John, and Ludacris sang (or yelled, in John's case) about 'Lovers and Friends', and gave casual sex partners a new anthem. They probably didn't anticipate finding a common ground with the 23% of the US population who was recently reported to be taking full advantage of that 'friends with benefits' package. The National Survey for Sex and Behavior reports that 50-somethings were "highly likely to engage in these casual sex encounters." That's right, folks. Swap mid-life crisis for mid-night coitus, and we may have a serious problem on our hands. Why? The study reports that these partners are very likely to engage in casual sex unprotected.


Down here in the District, HIV and AIDS have reached well over epidemic proportions. The generally accepted benchmark for a condition to reach severe epidemic concern is 1%- D.C. is at 3%. And to put this nearing-retirement trend in context, 70% of the people infected in the District are over the age of 40. D.C. officials are making concerted efforts to lower the rates of transmission. There are needle-exchange programs in place, and plenty of interventions to make adolescents and young adults more cognizant about safe sex practices. And, the message is spreading. The study, conducted at Indiana University's Center for Sexual Health Promotion, showed that 80% of male teens (14-17) who were sexually active used a condom the last time they had sex. But, how do we spread the word to those whose Viagra just kicked in and are ro-ar-ring to go? At their age, few are looking for everlasting love, and simply want to enjoy the company of another without any strings attached. The 50+ year-olds' rate for condom use the last time they had sex- a staggering (not!) 25%.

So, health promotion people, I'm talking to you! Do we put Rap-It-Up campaign ad's in More magazine? Offer "FREE CONDOMS!" incentives for prostate exams? There are lives at risk here, and something's gotta give!

This Week: Baby Mama Drama

"There is something very wrong when a man is good enough to father your children but not good enough to marry and build a life together." -Christelyn Karazin, founder of No Wedding, No Womb

"If you can't get a husband, who am I to tell you no, you can't be a mom?" -Demetria Lucas, relationship editor for Essence magazine, Blogger, A Belle in Brooklyn

In 1991, Tupac told the story of a fictional woman named Brenda, and how her unwed pregnancy "affects the whole community." By the time Fantasia Barrino's 'Baby Mama' hit the airwaves in 2005, many women rid themselves of shame or guilt, and instead sported single motherhood as "a badge of honor."

According to an article in yesterday's Washington Post, 72% of black babies are born to unwed mothers.* Per usual, the rate of this health outcome is higher in the black community than it is in either the white or any minority population. And what's the root of the problem? WaPo offers that it could be because black men constitute the majority of the incarcerated population in the States.** Furthermore, even if a young man doesn't have a record, if he's brought up in a low socioeconomic environment, his education likely won't be enough to get him any occupation paying above the poverty line. So, essentially, we end up with a lot of men who are capable of making kids, but incapable of supporting them.

But we can't just blame the men, can we? Of course not. Not when black women are increasingly adamant on proving themselves as independent women- what do they look like waiting around for a man to start a family? This is a common mentality shared by those who are financially stable enough to support an infant-sized addition to their lives. However, U.S. Census Bureau Statistics show that more often than not, single mother households are not run by mothers with a corner office. Most single black moms have no more than a high school education, and are working class women to whom another mouth to feed is simply an added stress. What other alternative is there but to raise the child as best they can, abortion or adoption?

It's not just an issue of having help, because there are countless friends, grandmothers, or babysitters probably watching babies at this very moment, because mom has to take night classes, or works a double shift to keep food on the table, (or go out to the club, but that's a whole 'nother blog post.) No, the issue is that "...a mother cannot give all that a man can give. A truly involved father figure offers more fullness to a child's life," OB-GYN Natalie Carroll noted in the WaPo article.

As public health professionals, we are supposed to have concern for the greater community, and prevent trends and behaviors that will contribute to allostatic load. Thus, one could ague that allowing women to have babies outside of a monogamous relationship is a failure from a public health standpoint. It is allowing the continued cycle of the proven effects of poverty to endure. The more babies out of wedlock, the more mothers on welfare, the less adequate health care they are able to afford, the more youths getting into a life of crime as a means to survive...and we're right back where we started. So, as supporters of No Wedding No Womb would argue, we need to stop this "problem" at the root. Is it our place to tell a woman not to conceive until she's [happily] married?

You tell me.

 
*CNN reported this data; their source was the National Center for Health Statistics, who completed the study in 2007
**3,161/100,000 black men were incarcerated in 2008, compared 1,200/100,000 Hispanics, and 487/100,000 whites.

This Week: Mind Your Business

BPHSN family and followers, it is my pleasure to introduce this week's guest blogger, Jana Baldwin. Jana is the author of www.nwtose.com, an alum of George Washington's School of Public Health and Health Services, and most importantly, a founder of the BPHSN blog! I'll let her do the rest of the talking...

I have been told by many that I am “over-the-top,” “too pushy,” “crazy,” among many other things when I discuss the topic of mental health and illness.  I have personally experienced mental health issues in my own life since a young girl and it has been painful to watch my brother go through serious but different mental health issues as well.  I am grateful that my mother took me to see a psychologist since I was about 7 years old.  I felt like everyone in my class knew that I was different and I knew that I wasn’t “crazy.”  My mother always reassured me that I was going to the psychologist to discuss health issues and that was one way of breaking down the stigma.  At some point in my life I was diagnosed with ADD, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and Bi-polar to name a few.  At the end of the day I am sure I am all of the above and I am grateful for educating myself around how I can make better choices to treat my chronic illnesses- which happen to be in my brain.  I still find myself at 28 years old running into road blocks and getting into situations that I knew I should have avoided, but every time the situation is a little bit easier and a little bit better.  Frankly, the best psychiatrist I have ever had told me “fake it till you make it.”  I have been doing that very thing ever since.  I give a little background about myself before I make statements about anything involving the mental health so you know where I am coming from.

Living in DC for a few years, I have spent many a days, hours, jobs, internships, volunteering, or random conversations talking about mental health and the black community.  It is a topic that is near to my heart as I watch people close to me, and people I don’t know struggle to a point that I don’t think is necessary.  One could say (and people do) “Who is this white girl and why does she care about me or think she knows anything about me?”  Well, I don’t know too much in life but I will say that DC has one of the most comprehensive mental health services in the country.  When I was without insurance I was able to go to the local mental health community center and receive services including a case manager, a psychiatrist, Rx coverage etc.  In Utah, where I am from this is unheard of.  There are no wrap-around services for the poor (yes I just say poor instead of underprivileged).  So, I wonder how we as a community reduce the stigma in the black community to encourage people to seek treatment, to know that treatment is available, but mostly to understand the benefits of mental health in general.  I wonder how many young men would not meet law enforcement or get locked up,  how many more kids would graduate high school,  if there had been some kind of intervention.  Everyone can benefit from learning how to communicate more effectively, working through anger, etc.  Access in the District is available.  Sometimes even having an “intervention” doesn’t solve anything. I am not saying that only reducing stigma around mental health issues in the black community will change everything but, frankly, I think it’s a start.

The Substance Abuse Mental Health Service Administration recently launched a new campaign called “Stories that Heal” geared towards black young adults. Check out the link and tell me what you think!

For all you public health folks that are into stats:

• Poverty level affects mental health status. African Americans living below the poverty level, as compared to those over twice the poverty level, are 4 times more likely to report psychological distress.

• African Americans are 30% more likely to report having serious psychological distress than Non-Hispanic Whites.

• Non-Hispanic Whites are more than twice as likely to receive antidepressant prescription treatments as are Non-Hispanic Blacks.

• The death rate from suicide for African American men was five times that for African American women, in 2005. 

http://minorityhealth.hhs.gov/templates/content.aspx?lvl=3&lvlID=9&ID=6474

 

This Week: Forgive...and Forget?

Acquaintance rape, or date rape, is "sexual assault by an individual known to the victim." The National Center for Victims of Crime reports that 77% of completed rapes are committed by non-strangers. This dispells the myth that sexual assaults are only carried out by crazed lunatics in a dark alley on the wrong side of town.

Less than 2% of women who are victims of acquaintance rape report their attack, compared to 21% of those who are raped by strangers. The following letter was written by a woman who falls into that 2%. She never reported the incident to the police, but asked for an outlet for her pain- here it is:

I can’t believe you said, “I love you.” I know it’s your first time saying that to a girl and everything, and I know I’ve only been in love twice before. But let me assure you, young man, that this is NOT what love feels like. Love is a listening ear. When I said no, you should have heard me, and obeyed. You should have climbed your scrawny limbs off of me, and gone to sleep. As a matter of fact, you should have gotten out of the bed and slept on the floor. Obviously you didn’t have enough self-control to lie in bed next to me.

 Love is a friend. We’ve known each other for almost two years, and before any romantic relationship, we were friends first. You knew how to make me laugh, and you knew what to say when I started to cry. And somehow tonight, you were the reason my cheeks had rivers of salt-water gushing toward my chin.

Of all the times to tell me that ‘love’ is what you’re feeling, you think this moment is appropriate? Just a few minutes ago, I was pleading you to stop trying to make love to me, and my screams fell on deaf ears. ‘I’m sorry’, and ‘I love you’, and ‘I didn’t mean it’ don’t fix what just happened. What if I’m pregnant? When is the last time you were tested? In a week I’ll go get tested and lose sleep until my results come back. And what will you do? Apologize a few more times, and go back to living your life?
        

I forgive you. I’m more upset at myself for even coming here, and trusting you, and kissing you. I can’t help but feel like I provoked this, like I asked for this disrespect and mistreatment. The long-hand kept ticking and the short-hand got closer and closer to 2, then 3, then 4am before I realized that this watch was telling me it was time to go. But, no. I stayed because I enjoyed your company. It’s like things were the way they used to be. That was back when we were friends, and when I felt like I was falling in love with you. I don’t feel like that any more. I feel angry, betrayed, and scared. So if you're wondering, the answer is no. I don't love you back. I don't hate you either. I forgive you. And I know one day, I'll be able to forgive myself, too. I don't care that you may never read this, or that we may never speak again. They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. They forget to mention the recovery portion that hurts like hell until you're healed. That's where I am now- getting stronger and stronger everyday.

I forgive you. But, I'll never forget.


Talk about it.