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Very rural areas in the United States have fewer mental health services for young people, yet that’s where the help is needed the most, says a study led by Janessa Graves of the Washington State University College of Nursing, published last week in JAMA Network Open.

Previous studies have shown that the suicide rate among young people in rural areas is higher than for urban youth and is also growing faster, said Graves, associate professor and assistant dean for undergraduate and community research.

Yet by one measure, using ZIP Codes, only 3.9% of rural areas have a mental health facility that serves young people the study found, compared with 12.1% of urban (metropolitan) and 15% of small-town ZIP Code Tabulation Areas.

Measured by county type, 63.7% of all counties had a mental health facility serving young people, while only 29.8% of “highly rural” counties did.

“Youth mental health is something that seems to be getting worse, not better, because of COVID-19,” said Graves. “We really need these resources to serve these kids.”

While Graves’ study focused on suicide prevention services offered in mental health facilities, “even less intensive services like school mental health therapists are lacking in rural areas,” she said.

Concluded the study, “Given the higher rates of suicide deaths among rural youth, it is imperative that the distribution of and access to mental health services correspond to community needs.”

Read more on News.WSU.edu.

As the coronavirus swept into Detroit this spring, Wayne State University junior Skye Taylor noticed something striking. On social media, many of her fellow Black classmates who live or grew up in the city were “posting about death, like, ‘Oh, I lost this family member to COVID-19,’” said Taylor.

The picture was different in Beverly Hills, a mostly white suburb 20 miles away. “People I went to high school with aren’t posting anything like that,” Taylor said. “They’re doing well, their family is doing OK. And even the ones whose family members have caught it, they’re still alive.”

How do COVID-19 infection rates and outcomes differ between these ZIP codes? she wondered. How do their hospitals and other resources compare? This summer, as part of an eight-week research collaborative developed by San Francisco researchers and funded by the National Institutes of Health, Taylor will look at that question and other effects of the pandemic. She’s one of 70 participants from backgrounds underrepresented in science who are learning basic coding and data analysis methods to explore disparity issues.

Data to address racial discrepancies in care and outcomes has been spotty during the pandemic, and it isn’t available for most of these students’ communities, which disproportionately bear the brunt of the virus. The participants are “asking questions from a perspective that we desperately need, because their voices aren’t really there in the scientific community,” said Alison Gammie, who directs the division of training, workforce development and diversity at the National Institute of General Medical Sciences.

Scientists from Black, Hispanic, Native American and other minority backgrounds have long been underrepresented in biomedicine. By some measures, efforts to diversify the field have made progress: The number of these minorities who earned life science doctoral degrees rose more than ninefold from 1980 to 2013. But this increase in Ph.D.s has not moved the needle at the faculty level.

Instead, the number of minority assistant professors in these fields has dipped in recent years, from 347 in 2005 to 341 in 2013. And some of those who have entered public health endure racial aggression and marginalization in the workplace — or, after years in a toxic environment, quietly leave.

“We really need to focus on making sure people are supported and find academic and research jobs sufficiently desirable that they choose to stay,” said Gammie. “There have been improvements, but we still have a long way to go.”

Read more at KHN.org.

In the United States, people of color have been disproportionately impacted by the coronavirus pandemic, and Native Americans are no exception. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, American Indian and Alaska Native people are 5.3 times more likely than white people to be hospitalized due to COVID-19, the largest disparity for any racial or ethnic group.

There are myriad reasons why Native Americans are particularly susceptible to the virus, including social inequities and disproportionately high rates of preexisting conditions – such as diabetes, heart disease, asthma and obesity – that can put them at extra risk of severe illness. Many also live in multigenerational homes with large families, which can make social distancing a challenge.

Access to quality health care is also an issue. The Indian Health Service, the federal agency that provides health services for many American Indians and Alaska Natives, is chronically underfunded and under-resourced. In 2018, most of its hospitals reportedly were operating with fewer than 50 total beds, while the agency had about 20% fewer doctors than what it believed was ideal.

While experts acknowledge the situation is dire, it’s impossible to know COVID-19’s true toll on the Native American community. Coronavirus data by race and ethnicity is notably incomplete; in late September, states reported race and ethnicity for just 74% of coronavirus cases and 89% of deaths on average, according to data from The COVID Tracking Project, a volunteer-run platform supported by journalists, scientists and other researchers.

Inconsistencies in how race and ethnicity are identified in states’ reporting of COVID-19 cases and deaths also limit analysis and understanding, with American Indians or Alaska Natives sometimes grouped into a broader category classification. And tribes themselves are not required to report all of the data they collect to the state.

In Minnesota, where U.S. News used support from the Solutions Journalism Network to explore how one Chippewa band and a medical clinic serving Native Americans were tackling COVID-19, American Indians have so far avoided the kind of crisis witnessed by their peers elsewhere.

Jackie Dionne, American Indian health director for the Minnesota Department of Health, says state officials and tribal leaders anticipated the disproportionately deadly effect the coronavirus could have on American Indian residents. And, she says, because elected tribal leaders knew that coronavirus cases in their communities would likely be severe, they worked together to emphasize preventative measures that would limit the virus’ spread and minimize the strain on hospitals.

“We’ve been working really diligently to test, contact-trace, investigate and quarantine as much as we can,” says Dionne, a member of the Turtle Mountain Band of Chippewa Indians in North Dakota. “There was a big push made by tribal elected leaders to wear a mask, to not gather for sake of keeping our elders safe.”

Read more at U.S.News.com.

Latinx communities are experiencing a growing health crisis as the number of HIV diagnoses increases among Latinx gay, bisexual and transgender men. In fact, 85% of new HIV infections among Latinos are men and there are an estimated 186,900 Latino men who have sex with men living with HIV in the U.S. One of the biggest challenges for this community is navigating intersectional cultural and sexual identities which poses significant challenges to accessing healthcare.

A new report called “Here as I Am”, investigates how social, economic and political forces affect the health and wellbeing of Latinx men living with HIV. Called a Listening Initiative, this was conducted over the course of 10-months and the report features first-hand experiences of this community in order to help drive community-led solutions that can support access and adherence to care.

The Initiative found that these men want diverse and responsive HIV care that reflects their needs, identity and language. Despite having medicines to effectively treat and manage HIV, not all Hispanics and Latinos are getting the care they need because of the stigma, fear or discrimination that many communities of color face. One in three Latino men living with HIV are not virally suppressed – meaning their viral load through medication adherence is low enough to prevent transmission. It is clear the standard of care is not benefiting everyone equally.

The report comes just before National Latinx AIDS Awareness Day (NLAAD) is observed on Oct. 15. Every year this marks a day to increase awareness of the impact of HIV and AIDS on the Hispanic and Latino population in the U.S.

Read more on WSAW.com.

Richelle Concepcion still remembers the name she was called after trying to stop a White kid who was picking on younger peers on the swim team in high school.

“Shut the f**k up, you Oriental b*tch!” that kid yelled at her so many years ago.

Though Concepcion, a Filipina American, wasn’t the only person teased by that kid at her school in San Francisco, she was the only one called a racial slur.

“After that event, I spent time ruminating on the experience and went over scenarios in my head about what I could have said back, whether I was indeed what he called me, etc.,” said Concepcion, now a psychologist at Tripler Army Medical Center in Honolulu, via email.

The racially motivated event and long-term subjection to stereotypes were two of many experiences “that inspired my work, as I tend to be very cognizant of the experiences of my patients who identify as people of color,” she added.

Mental health issues affect everyone, but people of color — Black, Latinx, Asian and Native American people — have higher rates of some mental health disorders and face greater disparities in getting help than White people. Those issues are primarily due to lack of access to services resulting from institutional discrimination, interpersonal racism and stigma — which can all harm the psyche of people of color in places where they are not the majority.

Such disparities have existed for decades, but “what we’re seeing is that some of the stresses that are associated with being a member of a marginalized group have been exacerbated during the pandemic,” said Brian Smedley, the American Psychological Association’s chief of psychology in the public interest and acting chief diversity officer.

During the pandemic, many people have experienced mental health stressors such as unemployment, sick and lost loved ones, disrupted social lives, insecurity about the future and a lack of internal peace — all of which threaten people’s socioeconomic status and stress levels. And minorities already disproportionately experience those misfortunes.

“There’s a high likelihood that (the pandemic) is also affecting mental health and well-being for these populations as well,” added Smedley, who leads the APA’s efforts to apply the science and practice of psychology to the problems of human welfare and social justice.

Read more at CNN.com.

Every morning, around 30 staff members with the Native American Community Clinic get together in an online virtual huddle.

Before the day’s duties are assigned, Elder in Residence Renee Beaulieu-Banks, a member of the Leech Lake Band of Ojibwe, starts out with a quick blessing – first in Ojibwemowin, and then again in English.

“We have conversations with spirits. We invite them to listen. We thank them, offer them tobacco for our requests and for our gratitude,” Beaulieu-Banks says. “That’s what I do in the morning. I do a request for healing. Not only for ourselves, but for the community and each other.”

Beaulieu-Banks also addresses the spirit of COVID-19, requesting that it have mercy on not only the native people, but everyone. She thanks the spirits for bringing the medical team together for this work, calling them “our warriors.” Staff members at the clinic, which provides health services to members of Minneapolis’ sizable Native American population, overwhelmingly say the introduction helps orient them and starts the day out in a “good way.”

Much of the coverage of Native Americans during the pandemic has focused on hard-hit rural reservations. But 78% of American Indians and Alaska Natives – who were either AI/AN alone or in combination with at least one other race – lived outside reservations or similar areas as of the 2010 Census, many of them in urban areas. Native residents of Minneapolis haven’t been immune to the challenges posed by COVID-19, including the mental health impacts of quarantine, isolation and financial instability.

As the pandemic progresses into winter, health experts warn that cases could spike as colder temperatures force more people inside. But a theme of resilience reverberates through NACC staff members and their patients. These are people who have gone through hard times before.

They adapt and survive.

“It may get worse as winter months approach, but I think our people are really resilient. We get through these things,” Beaulieu-Banks says. “There are other epidemics raging through our community. … Try and focus on the healing. Healing is happening. The more we talk about the healing, the more we’re going to see. I think we’re going to come out of this OK. “

Read more on USNews.com.