“You cannot shake hands with a clenched fist.” - Indira Gandhi

Please join us in observing the 10th National Day of Racial Healing. Health Equity Initiative has been a proud participant since the day’s inception in 2017. On this day, we encourage each other to have conversations about racial healing, racial equity and justice (1) while speaking openly and listening closely to our peers. 
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Below, you will find resources related to racial healing and equity that may help to guide you through your conversations. 

Resources

• Visit National Day of Racial Healing, which offers a number of resources.

• See HEI’s Community Leaders Forums on racial healing and health equity: 

• Racial Healing and Health Equity: A Look at Promising Policies and Community-Driven Interventions; and

• Racial Healing and Health Equity: Promising Policies and Community-Driven Interventions (Part 2). 

​On our reading list: 

• The Racial Healing Handbook: Practical Activities to Help You Challenge Privilege, Confront Systemic Racism, and Engage in Collective Healing by Anneliese A. Singh

​#NationalDayOfRacialHealing #HealthEquity #HowWeHeal

References:

1. National Day of Racial Healing. https://dayofracialhealing.org/ 

In 2024, a $5,000 grant from Health Equity Initiative helped fund salaries for community health workers in New York City. That investment powered the heart of the Grameen Promotoras program — the people delivering care and education directly to their community. 

​Take Maria, for example, a mother of two in Jackson Heights who attended a Promotoras health workshop for the first time last year. There, she not only received free blood pressure and diabetes screenings but also learned how to navigate the health system to secure consistent care for her family. Stories like Maria’s show how these workshops are more than sessions — they’re lifelines.

With this support from the Health Equity Initiative, our team reached nearly 25,000 women across New York City, a 12% increase from the previous year. Through 9,100 workshops, screenings, and referrals, women in the Bronx, Queens, and Manhattan gained access to vital health resources at no cost. 

The lesson is clear: even modest funding can unlock transformational impact. By supporting the women on the frontlines of health equity, we strengthen entire communities and take real steps toward closing the gaps in care. 

Image Credit: Grameen America
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Grameen America is a 2024-2025 grantee partner of Health Equity Initiative, which also includes unrestricted funding for this blog post. 
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​Author’s Bio
Greg is the Vice President of Education & Health at Grameen America. He joined the organization following its merger with Grameen PrimaCare, where he helped expand healthcare initiatives for underserved communities. He brings deep nonprofit experience, including roles at the Harvard Eating Disorders Center and The Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinson’s Research. As a global traveler, he has visited 134 countries. 

When I first began working with young people at the People’s Theatre Academy, I thought I was entering a space rooted primarily in artistic expression. What I found instead was a laboratory for health equity, one where young people wrestle with what it means to be whole, to be seen, and to be responsible for one another. The Academy serves middle and high school students, primarily youth of color from immigrant and working-class families. We meet weekly on Wednesdays and Thursdays from 5–7 p.m., but my day starts much earlier. As the Youth & Family Advocate, I arrive by 3:30 p.m. to open the studios, greet students as they trickle in after school, and hold space for whatever they’re carrying with them that day - exhaustion, excitement, grief, etc.
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It is easy to forget that health is not simply a matter of hospitals and diagnoses. Health is social. Health is political. Health is relational. Health is about the conditions that either deny or affirm human dignity. Health is about whether our systems allow young people to flourish - not as statistics or outcomes, but as full persons in community with others.

The young people I work with are often navigating complex realities: racial injustice, displacement, underfunded schools, and generational expectations. These are not abstract policy matters. They manifest in very real ways: anxiety attacks before school, difficulty sleeping, reluctance to speak freely in public spaces.
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They carry these burdens quietly at times, and loudly at others. But in the ensemble, something shifts. They begin to understand that they are not alone. They begin to recognize one another’s struggles as part of something shared, and worthy of collective care.
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In that context, our theatre program is not simply about performance. It is about rehearsal as a practice of reclaiming agency. A place to tell hard truths. A rehearsal for the kind of society where no one is left behind. Within the ensemble, students reimagine community, not as a passive inheritance, but as something they co-create.

Dominant narratives often frame youth who are struggling as individual cases in need of intervention. But what happens when we understand a student’s silence not as a deficit but as a strategy for survival in a world that often refuses to listen?

I do not ask what is wrong with them. Rather, I assess “What are they bringing into the room today?” Some arrive angry. Others, exhausted. Some simply need to sit quietly for five minutes before they can engage. Rather than forcing productivity, we center emotional regulation and collective care. Rather than treating those needs as obstacles, we honor them as part of the process. We’ve developed rhythms and rituals that help us regulate together: grounding activities, check-ins, space to decompress without explanation. In those quiet moments, something sacred happens. A new kind of trust forms, one based not on performance, but presence. My work as a Youth & Family Advocate is not an add-on - it is central to how we build health equity into the curriculum.
This kind of communal holding affirms that well-being is never just an individual matter. We rise and fall with one another. Healing is a shared journey.

This year, our students used their voices to advocate for a more just and equitable world. They wrote letters to their council members asking for safer streets, access to the arts, and more green spaces. They lobbied locally for arts education funding. One student launched her own storefront bakery, an offering to her community as much as an act of personal agency. Two students got into college with scholarships, despite receiving minimal support from their high schools. One class performed at a citywide rally for public arts, standing tall in defense of collective joy.

And yet, one of the most telling signs of impact is what happens inside the studios. The longer students stay with us, the harder it can be, not because they are "disrespectful" or “rowdy teenagers” (they are not), but because they begin to advocate for themselves with precision and clarity. They question directives. They ask for accommodations. They challenge power. We often joke among staff, “This is what we get for teaching them to speak up.” But beneath the laughter is a recognition: this is exactly the point.

In a world that too often silences or disciplines youth, giving them space to challenge us -  lovingly, boldly - is a sign of care, not disorder. It's a way of practicing justice on a small scale. Health equity requires that young people gain the tools to shape the conditions of their lives. And that often starts with their willingness to disagree.

Theatre has long been a tool for political critique. But in this space, it is also a space of becoming. I’ve watched students begin to articulate their needs, assert their boundaries, and care for one another in ways that mirror a world we are all trying to build. Working with our students has reoriented my understanding of health equity. It is not only about changing policy, though that matters. It is about changing relationships - between youth and adults, between people and systems, between trauma and the possibility of repair.

From them, that I’ve truly learned that:

• Health equity begins with who gets to speak and who is believed.
• True safety is built (from bravery) by communities, not institutions.
• Mental health must be supported collectively, not just individually.
• Real equity honors inherent human worth, beyond success or productivity.
• Joy, art, and celebration are not extras, they are central to justice.

These lessons are not always neat or easy, but they are necessary. Working with young people is a constant reminder that healing is political, that we are responsible for one another, and that community is a promise we keep showing up for. Transformation often begins in the smallest gestures: a shared breath, a brave story, a refusal to disappear. And at the heart of it all is a quiet, radical belief: Every person matters, and no one is beyond restoration.

Image Credit: Emmanuel Abbreu. Courtesy of The People's Theatre.
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Author’s Bio
Leticia Cortes Ortiz (Youth & Family Advocate) is a trauma-informed ethicist and advocate born and raised in Caguas, Puerto Rico. She holds an M.A. in Ethics & Society from Fordham University, with a concentration in community and humanitarian programming. Her academic research has been published by Johns Hopkins, Penn State, and the Marshall Institute for Ethical Thought and Action. She serves on the District 10 Co-Governance Group and is a judge for the National High School Ethics Bowl. Leticia’s work bridges social ethics with youth development, ensuring that every student is supported both artistically and holistically. A former young performer herself, she deeply believes in theatre as a tool for self-advocacy, civic engagement, and leadership development. Her work centers on building systems of care, amplifying marginalized voices, and driving forward equitable, mission-aligned programming that uplifts the full humanity of the communities The People’s Theatre serves.
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Forty years ago, the U.S. Secretary of Health and Human Services released a comprehensive report documenting the negative outcomes attributed to health disparities among racialized minorities (1). The report set off a cascade of policies, initiatives, and programs aimed at understanding the social determinants of health and eliminating health disparities, thereby paving the way for adoption of language and practices to bolster health equity in all sectors of public health, including health communication.  

​Yet, in merely months, we have witnessed swift and disturbing moves at federal, state, and organizational levels to end the decades-long progress that public health practitioners in the U.S. have achieved

Health equity—in fact, all concepts associated with equity—have come under scrutiny— resulting in critical initiatives and funding being dismantled, dissolved, or eliminated altogether (2). 

But why is health equity suddenly a taboo concept in the U.S.? What does health equity really mean, and what does it look like? 

Ultimately, the concept of health equity boils down to ensuring that all individuals have the opportunity to achieve the best possible state of health. As it relates to health communication, it is the naming of discrimination in its many forms, including racism, as a public health issue, building social norms about understanding why that is true, and developing means to tackle it. Concrete examples include breast cancer education materials being offered in Braille, Spanish, and Haitian Creole at a health clinic in Miami, Florida; improving access to safe, affordable, pest-free housing in historically disinvested-in (redlined) neighborhoods, and ensuring that all pregnant people receive respectful pregnancy, labor, and delivery care. It’s about advocating for coverage of HIV-prevention medication, PrEP, to be covered under health insurance policies since HIV disproportionately impacts certain populations more than others, or raising awareness about the risks of abortion not being legally accessible to all people across the entire country. It is about a myriad of disparities that have arisen and been maintained by structural discrimination, both intentional and unintentional. 


The term “health equity” asks us to confront uncomfortable truths about structural racism, discrimination, and unfair systems. But there’s another dynamic at play, which Lett et al. (2022) call health equity tourism. In recent years, especially during the COVID-19 pandemic and racial justice uprisings, many institutions and researchers suddenly pivoted into equity work without deep grounding in the field (3). This surface-level engagement can dilute “equity” into a buzzword rather than a transformative practice. When equity is used superficially, it becomes easier for critics to dismiss it as ideological rather than essential to justice.

Those of us who focus on health communication and health equity have been engaged in determining how we continue to center health equity in our work, given the current political landscape. Despite the challenges to be able to name equity in our endeavors, many of us have found innovative ways to discuss, educate on, and carry out this integral work. While health inequity has often been used as shorthand for an umbrella “lack of access to a variety of needs,” we can shift towards being explicit and specific about the needs, root causes, and issues that fuel health inequities. The language we use matters in upholding dignity for all, creating clarity, and effecting change. For instance, instead of saying, “unhoused individuals experience health inequities,” we could consider, “people without safe and reliable housing often lack access to healthy foods” — and then proceed to explain why that is and what we can do to address it. 

Though our present context gives us an opportunity to be more specific and arguably more intentional about how we address the root causes of disparities to achieve health equity, it is important to note that the fight we currently face isn’t against health equity: it is against the principle of equity. No matter our framing, our challenge is at the systemic level, where there is an attack on the concept of equity itself. Those in power appear to be seeking to deepen and harden the lines of disparity rather than helping to reduce barriers and increase access. 

Our mission, particularly as communicators, is to find ways to enhance opportunities for all and to find ways to center the ideas of fairness and collective benefit, rather than allowing the narrative of disparity and difference to permeate and take hold. When polled, 8 in 10 Americans believe in the concepts and values behind the ideas of diversity, equity, and inclusion (4).  On both sides of the aisle, agreement includes increasing access to Medicaid services and making prescription drugs more affordable (5). If diversity, equity, and inclusion terms are prohibited, we must find terms that demonstrate the concepts that these ideals embody and center them as our focus. While those in power may believe that these concepts are “radical leftist” or “woke” — we must work so that people, particularly the most marginalized, can see through these inaccurate and nonfactual statements. Most Americans of all political persuasions agree that health insurance companies have too much power (6) and that more people in this country should have access to quality, affordable health care. Many even believe it should be organized by the government, so that it isn’t a for-profit endeavor. However, when called “Medicare for All,”  some deem it “socialist” and “woke”. Therefore, we must focus on the values, ideas, and benefits that unite us and discourage incendiary, polarizing language.

We can continue to center health equity, from writing commitments into formal organizational strategy, listening to and elevating community voices, or aligning resources to address structural drivers of inequity. Importantly, this work cannot be done alone. Health equity requires collective action, and that means forging new partnerships and inviting stakeholders who may not have had a seat and/or voice at the table. 
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The fight continues. If you have suggestions and ideas for how to continue this fight in your community, discipline, or field, please share with us at the Health Communication Working Group of the American Public Health Association, and consider joining our group to make good trouble.

References

1. Heckler M. Report of the Secretary’s Task Force on Black and Minority Health. Washington, DC: US Department of Health and Human Services; 1985.
2. Hill, L., Artiga, S., Pillai, A., & Rao, A. (2025, March 21). Elimination of Federal Diversity Initiatives: Implications for Racial Health Equity. KFF. Retrieved September 4, 2025, from https://www.kff.org/racial-equity-and-health-policy/elimination-of-federal-diversity-initiatives-implications-for-racial-health-equity/
3. Lett, E., Adekunle, D., McMurray, P., Asabor, E. N., Irie, W., Simon, M. A., Hardeman, R., & McLemore, M. R. (2022). Health Equity Tourism: Ravaging the Justice Landscape. Journal of medical systems, 46(3), 17. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10916-022-01803-5
4. Brodbeck, T., Hannahs, L., Kennedy, S., Kromrey, C., & Levy, D. (2025, March 20). Beyond DEI: Understanding Public Opinion on Diversity, Equity, & Inclusion. American Association For Public Opinion Research. Retrieved September 4, 2025, from https://aapor.org/newsletters/beyond-dei-understanding-public-opinion-on-diversity-equity-inclusion/
5. Kirzinger, A., Montalvo, J., III, Kearney, A., Sparks, G., Valdes, I., & Hamel, L. (2025, January 17). KFF Health Tracking Poll: Public Weighs Health Care Spending and Other Priorities for Incoming Administration. KFF. Retrieved September 4, 2025, from https://www.kff.org/health-costs/kff-health-tracking-poll-public-weighs-health-care-spending-and-other-priorities-for-incoming-administration/ 
6. Giancarlo Pasquini and Eileen Yam. (2025, July 10). Americans’ Views on Who Influences Health Policy and Which Health Issues To Prioritize. Pew Research Center, Retrieved Sept 17, 2025, from //www.pewresearch.org/science/2025/07/10/americans-views-on-who-influences-health-policy-and-which-health-issues-to-prioritize/

Image Credit: Courtesy of the Health Communication Working Group
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The Health Communication Working Group is a 2024-2025 grantee partner of Health Equity Initiative, which also includes unrestricted funding for this blog post.

Author’s Bio
The Health Communication Working Group (HCWG) is part of the American Public Health Association's Public Health Education and Health Promotion section, and serves as the leading advocate for, and authority on, the use of communication and marketing approaches to improve the public's health. HCWG includes nearly 500 public health and health communication professionals from a variety of disciplines. 

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It’s Wednesday, August 6th. Evening is descending on the home base of New City Neighbors, the youth development organization I lead in northeast Grand Rapids. Residents of our neighborhood join the youth in our summer program for an interactive panel discussion with local community leaders. The organization’s urban farm and farmhouse provide the ambiance for our guests, including the student-prepared visuals related to the asset mapping of our Creston neighborhood that are on display. With temperatures reaching past eighty degrees Fahrenheit, nearly fifty people are gathered outdoors in the warmth of the fading sunlight to listen to the experiences of the panelists. The theme for the evening is Cultivating Community. 

Community organizing, food access work, physical health and mental health services are just some of the areas of expertise represented on the panel. The leaders respond to questions including, “How do you define a healthy community in our context?” and “How do you build trust across diverse interest groups within a neighborhood?” The final question is asked by a teen in our program: “What advice would you give to someone just starting out in community development or asset-based work?” All the discussion has moved us in a single direction. Increasing the health and well-being of a community is work that requires intention and patience. It takes years. This has certainly been our experience at New City Neighbors.

Over the last few years, New City Neighbors has been shaping its curriculum and programming experiences to help youth identify social challenges in our community and how to begin to address those challenges. With the fact that everyone needs to eat, and with our urban farm providing a much-needed food resource in our area (over 20,000 pounds of produce grown on our farm goes to local food resource centers), we have a great launching point for education around community transformation and empowerment. But we ask our youth to dig deeper as they find their voice and prepare themselves to launch out into the world.

Students in our school-year leadership course responded to our invitation to dig deeper with a request to create an asset map of our neighborhood, which is partially funded by Health Equity Initiative. They wanted to spend more time learning about the resources available in our area. They also wanted to think critically about how to network and leverage those resources for the well-being of the community at large. Thus began the ongoing student asset mapping project at New City Neighbors with preliminary assets being included in the map linked below. 
Map Link

Each year students in our leadership cohort will build on the knowledge of their predecessors by exploring our neighborhood and adding more to the collective asset map. While this seems like a simple exercise, our students are doing it with intention. Consequently, we have responded by shaping our summer curriculum to include the exploration and understanding of the resources currently available in the Creston neighborhood and how the engineering of community networks and resources for the good can lead to positive systems change and community transformation. Of great importance is also to explore how the youth perceive these assets, how they use them, and what kinds of improvements or new resources may be crucial to youth development and community transformation. 

Our vision at New City Neighbors is growing neighborhood leaders. This summer, we watched this growth in real time. 

Image Credit: Courtesy of New City Neighbors. Used by permission.

*New City Neighbors is a 2024-2025 grantee partner of Health Equity Initiative, which also includes unrestricted funding for this blog post.  

Author’s Bio
Ricardo Tavárez was named as one of the 40 under 40 business leaders by the Grand Rapids Business Journal in 2022 for his work on community transformation. He is the Executive Director of New City Neighbors, a non-profit in West Michigan using urban farming as a catalyst for urban development. 
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A positive community can help young people find a sense of belonging, purpose, and meaningful relationships. As we continue to learn more about the role of technology and social media in the lives of youth, we're uncovering how these platforms can be harnessed to support growth rather than hinder it.

​Just a decade ago, the dominant narrative around digital spaces was centered on harm—bullying, mental health issues, and a loss of in-person connection. But with growing research and insight, a new perspective has emerged: digital platforms, when thoughtfully designed and moderated, can actively promote thriving and Positive Youth Development (PYD).

Flipping the Script: Viewing Social Media as an Opportunity
Early research often lacked diverse representation and didn’t fully account for the nuanced experiences of youth. Today, a second wave of research is painting a more balanced picture, showing how digital spaces can support well-being and development (e.g., Steinsbekk et al., 2024; LeBlanc & Loyd, 2022).

Organizations like The Trevor Project have long understood the potential of digital community. One of their signature initiatives--TrevorSpace—is a leading example.

What is TrevorSpace?
TrevorSpace is a global, online community for LGBTQ+ young people aged 13–24. What sets it apart is its dual focus on identity development and peer connection, supported by trained moderators who help maintain a safe and affirming space.

Through a recent collaborative project—supported in part by HEI funds—we partnered with The Trevor Project to explore how TrevorSpace could more deeply integrate PYD principles. Our goal was to identify opportunities to better support users in becoming whole, healthy, contributing, and joyful individuals.

Discovery Through Inquiry
We began with a review of literature exploring the intersection of PYD and LGBTQ+ youth, which underscored the need for strength-based approaches in digital spaces. Conversations with TrevorSpace staff and a Youth Leadership Team of users helped shape the project. With their input, we developed and posted a custom survey that garnered responses from 631 LGBTQ+ young people.

Though the analysis is ongoing, initial findings reveal the power of digital spaces in advancing both personal growth and equity for LGBTQ+ youth.

What We Learned: Strengths and Community

LGBTQ+ youth demonstrate strong personal values and social responsibility.

• 99% agreed: “I think it is important to help other people.”
• 94%: “I take responsibility for what I do.”
• 96% think about how their actions on TrevorSpace might affect others.
• 92% feel responsible for intervening when others are treated unfairly.

Digital spaces offer support, belonging, and connection.

• 89% feel a sense of community on TrevorSpace.
• 88% say others on the platform care about them and want them to succeed.

For many, TrevorSpace offers a lifeline where in-person environments fall short.

“I’ve often found myself excluded from interactions at school or home. That changed when I joined TrevorSpace. I now have what is essentially one giant friend group.”

​“Being on the internet as a young, queer, autistic guy can be scary, but TrevorSpace does a great job encouraging connections. The clubs are a great gateway to socializing.”

Online spaces create safer environments for identity exploration.

• 89% feel safe and secure on TrevorSpace.
• 88% feel valued and appreciated by others.

“TrevorSpace helped me find peace with who I am. I used to come here only to ask for help. Now I’ve made room in my life for hobbies and joy.”

Spaces as Communities
This initiative underscores the need to redefine our understanding of "community" to include digital spaces. For LGBTQ+ youth—particularly those facing rejection or exclusion in physical environments—platforms like TrevorSpace can serve as vital spaces for identity development, affirmation, and growth.

This project advances LGBTQ+ equity by acknowledging that in-person environments are not always accessible, inclusive, or safe. By centering LGBTQ+ voices in the research process and creating pathways for user-informed improvements, we’re working to ensure that youth have access to affirming communities—wherever they are.

Ways to Support PYD in Digital Communities

• Affirm Identity Development: Help young people identify digital spaces that celebrate their identities, especially when in-person options are limited.
• Encourage Exploration: Go beyond the usual platforms. Young people may find belonging in smaller, lesser-known online communities.
• Promote Healthy Boundaries: There is no one-size-fits-all approach. Help youth reflect on their needs and limits when engaging online.
• Context Matters: It’s not just about screen time, but also when and where youth engage. Is it interfering with in-person moments, or enriching downtime?
• Reflect & Ask Questions:
  • How do digital spaces support your relationships?
  • How do they help you explore hobbies or grow?
  • In what ways are you giving back to your digital communities?

The Trevor Project also offers helpful resources on digital safety tailored for LGBTQ+ youth.

Conclusion
Online communities like TrevorSpace are not just social platforms—they are ecosystems of belonging. They offer young people the tools to discover themselves, connect with others, and contribute meaningfully to a world that is often unwelcoming. By leveraging the power of these spaces through PYD principles, we can advance equity and well-being for LGBTQ+ youth far beyond the screen.

References

1. (2024, February). A report prepared by Search Institute for The Trevor Project. Naming and Nurturing the Strengths of LGBTQ+ Youth.
2. (2024, February). A report prepared by Search Institute for The Trevor Project. TrevorSpace: Where LGBTQ+ Youth Thrive.
3. (2024, February). A report prepared by Search Institute for The Trevor Project. The Strengths and Assets of TrevorSpace Young People.

Image Credit: Bongkarn Thanyakij

The Trevor Project is a 2024-2025 grantee partner of Health Equity Initiative, which also includes unrestricted funding for this blog post.  

​Author’s Bios
Katherine Ross, Ph.D. is a researcher and writer specializing in youth mental health and LGBTQ+ advocacy. She brings academic insight and compassionate storytelling to her work.

Jacob Timmons, MFA is a creative strategist and educator with a background in digital media and storytelling. His work centers on inclusive content creation and community engagement.
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Tommy Marzella is the Vice President of Social Platform Development & Safety at The Trevor Project. He leads initiatives focused on creating safer online spaces for LGBTQ+ youth, drawing on extensive experience in tech and advocacy.

Microfinance, American-Style 
When most people hear the word microfinance, they picture rural villages across the globe. But microloans are quietly transforming communities right here in the United States. Organizations like Grameen America are leading a movement to provide small, low-interest loans—often just a few thousand dollars—to women living below the federal poverty line. In cities across the U.S., microfinance is not just about launching businesses. It's about dignity, opportunity, and improved health outcomes. 

For Bertha, it was life changing. After years of cleaning, she decided to start her own business. Through a friend, she was introduced to Grameen America. The program not only gave her the capital she needed, but also a support network, financial training, access to a Community Health Worker, and something more elusive: belief. “Thanks to Grameen America, I was able to buy the supplies I needed and grow professionally,” she said. 

When Financial Access Becomes a Health Intervention 
The connection between economic stability and health might not seem obvious at first. But for women like Bertha, financial inclusion is foundational to health equity. Living with diabetes for 15 years, Bertha struggled to manage her condition. Like many underserved immigrant women, she faced barriers to accessing health information, preventive care, and culturally relevant support. That began to shift when she had access to Grameen America’s Promotoras program—an initiative that provides health education and chronic disease management resources. Through regular group educational workshops, she learned more about nutrition, blood sugar control, and how to take care of herself. “My well-being is the foundation for everything,” she said. “Thanks to what I’ve learned, I’m healthier, more active, and able to continue supporting others.” 

The U.S. Microfinance Model: A New Kind of Community Health 
Programs like Grameen America don’t just hand out loans. They foster community accountability, financial literacy, leadership development, and critical peer support. In this model, a business loan becomes a tool for physical, mental, and social wellness. 

Bertha is now a group leader in her microfinance group, helping onboard and mentor new women entrepreneurs. “I consider myself an innate leader,” she said. “I guide other women like me—strong women who want more for their families.” She ensures her group remains united and disciplined, as she knows that supporting each other is part of the path to success. 

Why Health Equity Requires Financial Equity 
Health equity cannot be achieved in a vacuum. It’s not enough to expand clinics or lower prescription costs if people don’t have the income to access healthy food, stable housing, or basic transportation. Microfinance bridges this gap by addressing the social and structural determinants of health—especially for women who have historically been excluded from traditional banking and healthcare resources. 

A Call to Recognize Microfinance as a Public Health Strategy 
Bertha’s story is a reminder that health doesn’t begin in a hospital — it begins in our homes, our communities, and our wallets. Microfinance is more than money. It’s a strategy for investing in people who are often overlooked. It creates ripple effects: thriving local economies, stronger families and better health for women like Bertha. 

Image Credit: Grameen America

Grameen America is a 2024-2025 grantee partner of Health Equity Initiative, which also includes unrestricted funding for this blog post.  

Author’s Bio
Greg is the Vice President of Education & Health at Grameen America. He joined the organization following its merger with Grameen PrimaCare, where he helped expand healthcare initiatives for underserved communities. He brings deep nonprofit experience, including roles at the Harvard Eating Disorders Center and The Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinson’s Research. As a global traveler, he has visited 134 countries. 

The daughter of two Japanese immigrants, I grew up fairly privileged in a majority-white, suburban neighborhood outside of Richmond, VA, in the late 1980s and early 1990s. I know my parents worked very hard to make sure my sister and I had a life that was on par with or better than our peers. At the same time, with no Japanese or Japanese American community around us, I grew up feeling disconnected from my heritage and did not learn how to speak Japanese. I started playing piano at the age of three and switched to flute in 6th grade. And even though I became a flutist who was regularly among the top musicians in the county and district, I received the message that the arts were supplemental—not essential. To my parents’ chagrin, I kept veering towards the arts at choice points in my life. 

Fast forward to the present. I now live in New York City and serve as the Development Director of The People’s Theatre (formerly known as People’s Theatre Project), a 16-year-old nonprofit rooted in Washington Heights and Inwood that creates theatre with and for immigrant communities to build a more just and equitable world. Working at The People’s Theatre has changed my life. Thanks to an incredible team of colleagues—most of whom identify as immigrant people of color—I have been able to connect to my heritage in a new way, and equity is the primary lens through which I view my work as both a fundraiser and a theatre artist. Theatre, and the arts more broadly, have been essential to my story and to reconnecting with my Japanese roots. (My parents, thankfully, have also come to terms with my life choices and are happy with where I’m at.)

The People’s Theatre serves Washington Heights and Inwood, a community of immigrants whose stories are different from my parents’ and mine. Some are undocumented, have mixed-status families, or are Dreamers. Running from 155th Street to 218th Street, these neighborhoods are a cultural hub for Dominicans and other immigrant communities. Sixty-eight percent of residents are Hispanic/Latine; 45 percent are foreign-born, according to the 2020 Census. Sixty-nine percent of people five years or older speak a language other than English at home. Twenty-eight percent of children live below the poverty line. These statistics are far higher than New York City averages.

Economic inequality is a public health crisis. It impacts access to essentials—nutritious food, stable housing, culturally competent healthcare, and education. In our neighborhood, these disparities show up in higher rates of chronic conditions like obesity, diabetes, and hypertension compared to the rest of Manhattan (1).
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We’re now living in a poisonous political moment where immigrants—especially Latine immigrants—are being called all manner of hateful names, dehumanized, and blamed for the city and country’s ills. They are being rounded up, stripped of dignity, and denied due process. Day after day, week after week, year after year, these narratives from (read: largely white) people in power are far worse than “sticks and stones.” These stories provide a terrible, debilitating answer to the fundamental question, “Who am I?” and have a grave impact on our community’s health. Scientific research shows that chronic exposure to racism—both interpersonal and systemic—triggers a physiological stress response that contributes to hypertension, anxiety, and shortened life expectancy. 
So how do we fight this? How do we build a community that not only survives but thrives?

For us at The People’s Theatre, theatre is a public health intervention. It is through storytelling that we are humanized. It connects us to our past, allows us to define who we are, and helps us fight back against the virulent voices that try to impose a narrative upon us.

The people at The People’s Theatre taught me to be curious about my heritage and to learn my parents’ stories, despite years of disconnection (albeit, this is still a work-in-progress). I’ve learned to listen across difference while also standing bravely for what I believe. And these lessons are shared widely across our organization—from our professional artists to our young people. Over our 16-year history, we’ve partnered with healthcare organizations like NewYork-Presbyterian and SOMOS Community Care to share bilingual stories and messages about healthy eating and the opioid epidemic—stories that meet our community where they are. Where a pamphlet might be ignored, a play earns attention.

Despite the harsh realities outside our walls, The People’s Theatre is on the cusp of a history-making new chapter. We are just thirteen months away from opening The People’s Theatre: Centro Cultural Inmigrante, which will be New York City’s first performing arts center dedicated to the immigrant experience—and the largest Latine-operated theatre in New York State. It will be a space where culture, community, and civic engagement collide. A space that is, as immigrants, ours: where we can gather, rest, create, and forge our identities and stories in defiance of the forces that keep trying to define us.

I’m proud to share that we have already raised 92% of our $40 million capital goal, which includes a $1.5 million fund to rent our spaces affordably to community partners. We are confident that El Centro will be a source of strength, health, and pride for our Uptown community.

As one of the participants in our community production EL ESPACIO QUE COMPARTIMOS / THE SPACE WE SHARE said during a talkback at The Whitney Museum, “Theatre saves lives.”

And in reclaiming our stories, we reclaim our right to thrive.
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References

1. New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene, Community Health Profiles, accessed May 22, 2025, https://a816-health.nyc.gov/hdi/profiles/.

Image Credit: Emmanuel Abbreu. Courtesy of The People's Theatre. 

The People's Theatre is a 2024-2025 grantee partner of Health Equity Initiative, which also includes unrestricted funding for this blog post.  

​Author’s Bio
Aya Esther Hayashi, Ph.D is a Japanese American arts administrator, musicologist, and theatre artist. She serves as Development Director at The People’s Theatre in Upper Manhattan. Her doctoral research explored race and ethnic performance in musical theatre, and music created by sci-fi/fantasy fan communities. Her writing appears in publications by Routledge, Intellect/University of Chicago Press, and Transformative Works and Cultures. She has presented at academic conferences across the U.S. and abroad. Aya stays creative by producing musical theatre through her company Okaeri Productions and performing/directing with AfterWork Theater. She holds degrees from UNC–Chapel Hill (B.M. with honors) and The Graduate Center, CUNY (M.A., Ph.D.). www.ayaestherhayashi.com, IG: @ayaesther.

I’m standing on a triangular city block in the Creston neighborhood of Grand Rapids. The triangle is formed between the streets of Coit, Quimby and Plainfield Avenue. I’m accompanied by two adults, who are leading a conversation with five high school students. The block is small, and in comparison we must look like a serious afternoon crowd to those passing by. 

One of the adults in our crowd is a staff member at the non-profit I oversee as its Executive Director, New City Neighbors*, which is located in Creston. The other is an experienced volunteer. Both of them are dedicated mentors to a cohort of teens at New City Neighbors that are enrolled in a 9-month leadership program. New City Neighbors is an organization that intentionally hires teens to work in urban farming and the preparation of healthy meals. The organization supplies over 20,000 pounds of food annually to local resource centers. Through this work, teens learn about sustainability, food sovereignty, and food access. Students enrolled in our leadership curriculum learn the importance of identifying their own core values, develop skills in systems change, and begin the work of addressing social issues in our community. Today, over the noise of vehicles climbing up and down Plainfield, this cohort is receiving training on asset mapping - an educational activity that involves determining what types of resources are present, or missing, within a community. 
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The students are instructed to take a look around them by one of their facilitators. They are asked, “What community assets do you see right here on this block?”

The teens look around and seem a bit confused. Perhaps they’re worried they’ll say the wrong thing. Or maybe they’ve walked past this block so often that they’re having trouble seeing what is right in front of them. I chuckle to myself while they take their time considering an answer. There is so much here! There is an empty building that looks like it’s been out of use for years, ready for someone to claim it and bring it to life. There are concrete benches offering a chance for travelers to rest. There’s a monument to fallen soldiers that once lived in the neighborhood. In this spot, there is a sense of community among neighbors that has been passed through the generations. And there is –
“A bus stop!” Says one of the teens. “People can wait here and ride the bus home, to school, or to work.”

I smile. This is one of the first steps in community development. It’s the slow-down. It’s the pause for an observation. It’s connecting the dots between the needs of neighbors and the practical application to address those needs while creating a thriving community. As we engage in the work of mapping the social determinants of health in our neighborhood, we begin to appreciate what we currently have and notice the gaps that need to be filled.

Social determinants of health can include access to:

• Education;
• Healthcare;
• Food;
• Economic Sustainability; and
• Safety.

With the support of Health Equity Initiative, 20 teens engaged with New City Neighbors will be taking a deep dive into asset mapping and identifying social determinants of health during our 2025 summer intensive program. Perhaps it may seem out of place for an organization that addresses youth employment and food access to take a walk through the neighborhood and notice a bus stop, a church, or a neighborhood clinic. But one organization can’t solve all the social issues in one community. And we’re all a part of the bigger picture. We must begin to connect the dots to create a healthy and thriving neighborhood. Start with a pause, a map, a walk, and a conversation with your neighbors. End with a perspective that will help us thrive together.  

Image Credit: Courtesy of New City Neighbors. Used by permission.

​New City Neighbors is a 2024-2025 grantee partner of Health Equity Initiative, which also includes unrestricted funding for this blog post.  

Author’s Bio
Ricardo Tavárez was named as one of the 40 under 40 business leaders by the Grand Rapids Business Journal in 2022 for his work on community transformation. He is the Executive Director of New City Neighbors, a non-profit in West Michigan using urban farming as a catalyst for urban development.