Health Equity (And All Equities) Won’t Get Better On Their Own

Posted on by gracesmuggler
 Figure 3 from The Misperception of Racial Economic Inequality by Michael Kraus et. al. Underestimates of the Black–White wealth gap from 1963 to 2016. Each of the small colored dots represents one respondent’s estimate. The large black dots represent mean respondent estimates of Black wealth when White wealth is set to $100. The diamonds represent the actual median Black wealth when White wealth is set to $100, calculated using federal data from the Survey of Consumer Finances (Bricker et al., 2017). Error bars indicate 95% confidence intervals around the mean estimates.

I recently attended a lecture at the University of Michigan by Dr. Michael Kraus, a Professor at Northwestern University, titled The Narrative of Racial Progress. His research challenges how we understand progress, and how our assumptions about progress can work against actual change.

One powerful part of the lecture involved a question Dr. Kraus asks his research subjects: “In the United States, if an average white family has $100 in wealth, how much does the average Black family have?” He asks participants to estimate this answer across various years in our history and to project it into the future. The answers are revealing.

As Dr. Kraus shared, every U.S. racial and ethnic group overestimates the level of racial wealth equality in our country, but white Americans overestimate it the most. The truth is stark: from 1963 to the present day, the average wealth of Black families has hovered around $8 for every $100 held by white families. The number has moved slightly up or down, but it has never moved steadily upward as we might hope.

This gap between perception and reality speaks volumes. Many of us have internalized the belief that racial progress is natural—that it simply happens as time goes on. But Dr. Kraus challenged this narrative directly. He asked, “If you expect that progress happens naturally, why would you think policies are needed to increase equity?”

It’s a sobering reminder that the story we tell ourselves about progress is often a comforting one, but it isn’t necessarily true. Progress doesn’t happen without effort, and without policies and community-driven action, inequities persist or even worsen.

This connects directly to the work we do at the Epilepsy Foundation of Michigan and within our national Epilepsy Foundation network. We are continually seeking to understand the data and personal experiences around health inequities, so we can close these gaps and build health equity. If the average Black household holds only 8-10% of the wealth of the average white household, is it any wonder that these inequities echo across our health systems, education systems, and social services? Wealth shapes access to care, stability, and opportunities, and disparities in wealth contribute to disparities in health outcomes.

Dr. Kraus’s lecture was a crucial reminder: Equity, whether in health or economics, will not improve on its own. It requires foresight, intention, research, and tangible action. We can’t afford to be passive; progress demands our active participation.

The disparities we face today weren’t created by chance, and they won’t be dismantled by chance either. It will take all of us, committed to recognizing inequities, understanding their roots, and working intentionally to create a fairer future.

Reference: The Misperception of Racial Economic Inequality by Michael W. Kraus, Ivuoma N. Onyeador, Natalie M. Daumeyer, Julian M. Rucker, Jennifer A. Richeson.

— Renee Roederer

Mental Health Monday: Whatever You’re Feeling, Don’t Feel It Alone

Posted on by gracesmuggler
People with their arms locked around each other. Public domain.

I’ve been feeling election anxiety.

I know I’m not alone in this. I’m thinking of you, too — all people who will read this. I know some of you by name; others will just stumble upon this post. I am thinking of all of us and each of us.

It’s a physical anxiety I feel, one that is somehow present and up-to-date, and one that feels old, connected to the past. Time is co-mingling. I’m sure I’m not alone in this either. This kind of anxiety used to be a hallmark in my physiology, but it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this.

It’s not buckling me over. Daily life is still happening. And I’m finding things to delight in, just like typical me. But I feel this. This election is too close for me to be comfortable, especially with so much at stake. Between you and me, I actually think Kamala Harris will win. But I don’t know that. And I wish I could know that. And even if she does win, I think conditions on the ground and in some people’s hearts are dangerous. At a rally, Donald Trump recently said, “I am your retribution!” Why wouldn’t some of those people choose to be his retribution? Especially when we’ve seen them do it before?

Things feel unpredictable.

So I’ll share this: I am connected to an incredible community called Farm Church in Durham, North Carolina. I appreciate something that those community members often say to each other: “Whatever you’re feeling, don’t feel it alone.”

I think that’s a good message for a Mental Health Monday. Whatever you’re feeling, don’t feel it alone. Thanks for reading my feelings this morning. I hope you feel less alone in yours too.

— Renee Roederer

Marking Time Apart

Posted on by gracesmuggler
Mini Blueberry Muffins. Public domain image.

Lately, every Friday morning, I start my day the same way. Before I do anything else, I settle in to watch the newest episode of The Great British Baking Show, with a cup of coffee and a baked treat I’ve saved just for this. Today it was a warm apple doughnut with pumpkin ice cream. It makes Fridays feel different.

There’s something helpful about marking time apart and creating a moment that stands outside the usual routine. Whether it’s a favorite show, a weekly walk, or an hour for a hobby, these moments remind us that not everything has to be about productivity. They can simply be about enjoyment.

Today, I invite you to mark some time apart with a small ritual that lets you breathe a little more deeply, something that makes a moment feel different and outside of that race for productivity.

For me, it’s coffee, a treat, and The Great British Baking Show. It’s pastry week!

— Renee Roederer

It’s All Sacred

Posted on by gracesmuggler
A dance pose from the music video of Michael Jackson’s Thriller.

Once a month, I have the privilege of leading a spiritual service called Parables. It’s a service designed especially for, with, and by people with disabilities and neurodivergence, though everyone in the wider community is welcome. Each time we gather, there’s a great deal of connection, joy, and reflection.

We often think of sacred acts as those we traditionally associate with worship or spiritual reflection — things like prayer, communion, and meditation. And yes, those can be sacred. But I’ve learned in this community that sacredness reveals itself in all kinds of rhythms and relationships.

After our service on Sunday, someone said with total spontaneity, “I want to sing Thriller!” She went right up to the piano player and asked if she would help. Soon, people were singing, while the piano player picked out the notes, trying to find the right key.

This too is sacred.

Sacredness isn’t confined to formal moments or rituals. It’s present in our joy, our play, our willingness to be fully ourselves, together.

— Renee Roederer

Overheard

Posted on by gracesmuggler
Two kids, laughing. Public domain image.

Two parents and two kids are walking behind me.

Overheard:

Kid: She was really mean to me. She said, ‘You’re nasty.’ So I said, ‘I may be nasty, but you’re nastier than me!’

Mom: Why don’t we just say nice things?

Dad: Well, she was pretty mean first…

Kid: Then she said, ‘You’re trash!” So I said, ‘I may be trash, but you’re trashier than me!’

Mom: Come on, why don’t you just say kind things, and leave it at that?

Pause

Kid: You’re lovely, but I’m lovelier than you!

Both kids snicker.

— Renee Roederer recounts

Mental Health Monday: Don’t Get Used to It

Posted on by gracesmuggler
Four autumn trees. The one on the far left is yellow, and the next three are orange.

Before moving to Michigan, I lived on the West Coast. There was so much I loved about that place, but I knew that eventually, I was likely to move to the Midwest, and Ann Arbor was the town I dreamed about. In fact, I used to walk a long loop around my town and imagine and strategize how I could make it happen.

I’m so pleased it all worked out, and now, I’ve lived in Ann Arbor for more than a decade. When I first arrived, my friends teased me, saying, “Whatever the weather is doing, Renee is fascinated by it.”

And it was true. I had grown up in the Midwest, but I had never experienced seasons as pronounced as this. Above all, I just couldn’t believe the colors of the fall leaves. Every time I turned a corner and caught a glimpse, I’d geek out all over again. It felt impossible that something so vibrant could be real.

I was thinking about this again while riding my bike through town on a warm day. I still love the leaves, but they’re more normal to me now. And yet, I never want to get used to beauty as if it’s no big deal, like something to let fade into the background, unnoticed.

I want to keep that sense of surprise and awe, even if it’s not quite as heightened as it was that first year. I want to stay open to wonder.

And that has me thinking about a number of other things.

Maybe we shouldn’t get used to other extraordinary parts of our lives:
Like that relationship or community we reconciled with,
Like that new opportunity that came our way when we weren’t expecting it,
Like that workplace environment that is wonderfully supportive,
Like that house we get to live in,
Like those children that laugh hard while they play.

Sometimes, these experiences become the backdrop of our lives, but they were once the things we dreamed about. Or maybe they’re things that surprised us entirely.

So today, let’s notice them. Let’s appreciate beauty right in front of us, even when it starts to feel familiar.

— Renee Roederer