The Catch-22 of COVID-19
History of medical experimentation, dearth of details buoy fears about COVID vaccine
By Sharon Tubbs
Of Fort Wayne Ink Spot
For people of color, COVID-19 vaccination poses an unconscionable dilemma.
It has always been feared that giving black folks the right to vote is like giving them too much power.
We have had some drum majors like Medgar Evers, Fannie Lou Hammer, the Freedom Riders and John Lewis leading the way to democratic enfranchisement. The years 2008 and 2012 gave President Barack Obama the majority of black votes. This year, with black votes being counted, the nation has elected as Vice President, Kamala Harris, an African/Indian American woman. In the State of Georgia, Stacy Abrams has become a drum major in getting out the votes for African Americans and other people of color.
On one hand, African Americans who contract the disease are 3.7 times more likely than whites to require hospitalization and nearly three times more likely to die, according to recent data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. That means we need the vaccines, right?
Well… On the other hand, the reasons behind these disproportions are steeped in systemic racism, including everything from inferior health care and housing, economic oppression, and barriers to healthy food, among other inequities.
Herein lies the dilemma. Should Black Americans today trust those pushing the vaccines—the government, medical research, and science? After all, these are the very institutions that helped create the disparities killing us. Then again, if we don’t trust them, will we position ourselves to suffer all the more?
Some are already staunchly rooted on either side of the issue.
Yalonda Naylor is one of many African Americans opposed to vaccination right now.
“The rush to bring this vaccine to market without clearing key safety measures and overall effectiveness is concerning and irresponsible,” said Naylor, the 48-year-old founder of the not-for-profit Transitional Health in Fort Wayne. “Proper studies are being overshadowed in an effort to push this vaccination purely for financial gain, not the well-being of society.”
“It is only in theory that the benefits of this vaccine outweigh the delayed adverse effects it is likely to have,” Naylor added. Money used on vaccines would better be spent on “preventive health education and improving the environmental challenges found in under-served communities,” she said.
But Erick Baker, who contracted the virus in November, said he’ll be in line as soon as a vaccine is available to him. A firefighter and local nonprofit community program director, Baker said COVID-19 hit much too close to home. Counting off three family members and friends who died from the virus, Baker said, “I know that it affects people.”
Baker, 38, suffered mild symptoms. His daughter has asthma, a condition that could worsen the outcome if she catches COVID-19. With the tragedies he’s already seen, he can’t take a chance on exposing her or anyone else when a viable solution stands ready.
A matter of trust
Vaccines are at the forefront of our nation’s consciousness. State health officials, politicians, and epidemiologists talk excitedly about concoctions by Pfizer and BioNTech, Moderna, AstraZeneca. Reporters update timelines daily, talking heads speak of funding, of President-elect Joe Biden’s plan, of a new task force, limited dosages, and prioritizing groups: Who gets the “opportunity” to take the vaccine right away?
Meanwhile, Black America remains largely unimpressed.
A Pew Research Center report released this month notes that only 42 percent of Black Americans polled said they would definitely or probably take a vaccine now. Compare that to 63 percent of Hispanics, 61 percent of White adults, and 83 percent of English-speaking Asian Americans.
The Indiana Minority Health Coalition and its affiliates, including HealthVisions Midwest of Fort Wayne, are gathering survey information statewide to find out what questions are out there. The coalition wants to help people of color get answers they need to make informed decisions.
“Our overall goal is to provide factual information about vaccines,” IMHC's Tony Gillespie said, adding that the coalition will also “address historic distrust, mistrust issues.”
Dr. Ruby Cain, for one, wants more details. The Ball State University professor and long-time advocate in Fort Wayne has heard Blacks were included in clinical trials that tested the vaccines.
“It would be beneficial to learn the percentage of Blacks in the clinical trials to ensure that there was a representative sample,” she said.
Some go beyond a dearth of information, speculating about ulterior motives. On social media platforms, Blacks say the government wants to use them as “guinea pigs” again, to work out the vaccines’ kinks before widespread distribution to whites. End Times conspiracy theorists believe the vaccines, themselves, are deadly and speak of an evil government plot to dispense a modern-day batch of Jim Jones Kool-Aid.
Though some may see the theories as far-reaching, these ideas highlight the strong distrust that some Black Americans feel toward a medical system that has used us as guinea pigs in the past.
A cruel history
J. Marion Sims, called by some “the father of gynecology,” used Blacks as guinea pigs, indeed.
Sims experimented on enslaved women in the 19th Century, performing torturous procedures – without anesthesia – to correct childbirth injuries called fistulas. After fine-tuning his methods on slaves, he conducted them on white women—only now reports indicate he used anesthesia or sedation. He created a contraption on which the modern version of the vaginal speculum is based.
In 2018, the City of New York removed a prominent statue memorializing Sims in Central Park, as black women watched and cheered. (Even today, studies reveal ongoing medical bias where professionals under-medicate Black patients, believing they can take more pain than whites.)
And conversations about vaccines often mention the infamous Tuskegee Experiment, when Alabama doctors and scientists conspired to prevent Black men with syphilis from receiving life-saving treatment. Researchers continued their study, as men needlessly died or infected their wives and children.
These and other historical facts make skepticism and hesitancy understandable. But the keyword is facts. Some theories in the community have no basis in reality. With lives at stake, we can’t afford to make decisions about vaccination out of ignorance or make-believe. We must care enough about our bodies to seek out answers from local health officials, legislators, and others. That said, the onus isn’t solely on us. Officials should readily provide details with understanding. The idea that all or most African Americans should easily trust a process that has systemically harmed us is also unrealistic.
But let’s be clear, as more details emerge, we won’t all come to the same conclusion. Whether good or bad, there is no monolithic African American community where everyone thinks the same way. For some, oppression at the hands of white America will block any idea of taking a vaccine, at least now anyway.
For others, like Baker, the virus’s risk and other factors will send them to the nearest clinic. The quick turnaround for vaccines is evidence of people all over the world coming together to solve a dire, global problem, Baker said.
Who’s right? Well, that’s part of the dilemma. Maybe no one is, at least not absolutely. Maybe we can only be “right” and true to ourselves.
Sharon Tubbs is a contributing writer for the Ink Spot and the director of HealthVisions Midwest of Fort Wayne.
