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The scientific study of how discrimination harms health requires theoretically grounded methods. At issue is how discrimination, as one form of societal injustice, becomes embodied inequality and is manifested as health inequities. As clarified by ecosocial theory, methods must address the lived realities of discrimination as an exploitative and oppressive societal phenomenon operating at multiple levels and involving myriad pathways across both the life course and historical generations. An integrated embodied research approach hence must consider (1) the structural level-past and present de jure and de facto discrimination; (2) the individual level-issues of domains, nativity, and use of both explicit and implicit discrimination measures; and (3) how current research methods likely underestimate the impact of racism on health.

In the United States, non-Hispanic Black (NHB), Hispanic, and non-Hispanic American Indian/Alaska Native (NHAIAN) populations experience excess COVID-19 mortality, compared to the non-Hispanic White (NHW) population, but racial/ethnic differences in age at death are not known. The release of national COVID-19 death data by racial/ethnic group now permits analysis of age-specific mortality rates for these groups and the non-Hispanic Asian or Pacific Islander (NHAPI) population. Our objectives were to examine variation in age-specific COVID-19 mortality rates by racial/ethnicity and to calculate the impact of this mortality using years of potential life lost (YPLL). This cross-sectional study used the recently publicly available data on US COVID-19 deaths with reported race/ethnicity, for the time period February 1, 2020, to July 22, 2020. Population data were drawn from the US Census. As of July 22, 2020, the number of COVID-19 deaths equaled 68,377 for NHW, 29,476 for NHB, 23,256 for Hispanic, 1,143 for NHAIAN, and 6,468 for NHAPI populations; the corresponding population sizes were 186.4 million, 40.6 million, 2.6 million, 19.5 million, and 57.7 million. Age-standardized rate ratios relative to NHW were 3.6 (95% CI 3.5, 3.8; p < 0.001) for NHB, 2.8 (95% CI 2.7, 3.0; p < 0.001) for Hispanic, 2.2 (95% CI 1.8, 2.6; p < 0.001) for NHAIAN, and 1.6 (95% CI 1.4, 1.7; p < 0.001) for NHAP populations. By contrast, NHB rate ratios relative to NHW were 7.1 (95% CI 5.8, 8.7; p < 0.001) for persons aged 25-34 years, 9.0 (95% CI 7.9, 10.2; p < 0.001) for persons aged 35-44 years, and 7.4 (95% CI 6.9, 7.9; p < 0.001) for persons aged 45-54 years. Even at older ages, NHB rate ratios were between 2.0 and 5.7. Similarly, rate ratios for the Hispanic versus NHW population were 7.0 (95% CI 5.8, 8.7; p < 0.001), 8.8 (95% CI 7.8, 9.9; p < 0.001), and 7.0 (95% CI 6.6, 7.5; p < 0.001) for the corresponding age strata above, with remaining rate ratios ranging from 1.4 to 5.0. Rate ratios for NHAIAN were similarly high through age 74 years. Among NHAPI persons, rate ratios ranged from 2.0 to 2.8 for persons aged 25-74 years and were 1.6 and 1.2 for persons aged 75-84 and 85+ years, respectively. As a consequence, more YPLL before age 65 were experienced by the NHB and Hispanic populations than the NHW population-despite the fact that the NHW population is larger-with a ratio of 4.6:1 and 3.2:1, respectively, for NHB and Hispanic persons. Study limitations include likely lag time in receipt of completed death certificates received by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention for transmission to NCHS, with consequent lag in capturing the total number of deaths compared to data reported on state dashboards. In this study, we observed racial variation in age-specific mortality rates not fully captured with examination of age-standardized rates alone. These findings suggest the importance of examining age-specific mortality rates and underscores how age standardization can obscure extreme variations within age strata. To avoid overlooking such variation, data that permit age-specific analyses should be routinely publicly available.

COVID-19 starkly reveals how structural injustice cuts short the lives of people subjected to systemic racism and economic deprivation.2 4 It is not, however, the only crisis at hand.Since the May 25, 2020, murder of George Floyd, a 46year-old African American man, by the Minneapolis, Minnesota, police, protests have coursed through cities and towns across the United States, denouncing structural racism and police violence,5-7 fueled, too, by COVID-19's disproportionate toll on US populations of color.2 4 In a context in which US police kill upwards of 1000 people peryear-nearly three per day, disproportionately Black Americans, and vastly more than in any other wealthy country5,6 -the last straw was Floyd's horrific murder.7 Floyd died because he could not breathe, because police officer Derek Chauvin knelt on his neck for an agonizing 8 minutes and 46 seconds-in open view, as videoed for all to see, while three other police standing nearby failed to intervene.The current upsurge ofprotest builds on the leadership of so many groups, perhaps most prominently Black Lives Matter, founded in 2013 by three radical Black women organizers-Alicia Garza, Patrisse Cullors, and Opal Tometi-in response to the acquittal of Trayvon Martin's vigilante murderer, George Zimmerman, and which rapidly grew in the wake of Michael Brown's killing by Ferguson, Missouri, police officer Darren Wilson in 2014.8 Also feeding these protests is the post-2016 rise in hate crimes,9 coupled with overt expressions of racism, both by word and by policies, at the highest levels of the US . 2,10 government.

Despite growing interest in understanding how social factors drive poor health outcomes, many academics, policy makers, scientists, elected officials, journalists, and others responsible for defining and responding to the public discourse remain reluctant to identify racism as a root cause of racial health inequities. In this conceptual report, the third in a Series on equity and equality in health in the USA, we use a contemporary and historical perspective to discuss research and interventions that grapple with the implications of what is known as structural racism on population health and health inequities. Structural racism refers to the totality of ways in which societies foster racial discrimination through mutually reinforcing systems of housing, education, employment, earnings, benefits, credit, media, health care, and criminal justice. These patterns and practices in turn reinforce discriminatory beliefs, values, and distribution of resources. We argue that a focus on structural racism offers a concrete, feasible, and promising approach towards advancing health equity and improving population health.

In the current US political climate, conservative foundations are seeking to frame debates over determinants of racial/ethnic health disparities as a matter of “politically correct” unscientific ideology (concerning the health impacts of discrimination) vs scientific yet “politically incorrect” expertise rooted in biological facts (concerning genes). I draw on historical and contemporary examples to place conservative polemics in context, and also highlight fundamental flaws in their arguments involving the use of spurious categories (e.g., Caucasian), logical fallacies, temporal fallacies, and an erroneous emphasis on gene frequency over gene expression. The larger goal is to strengthen development of a more critical, reflexive, and rigorous science capable of generating evidence useful for rectifying—rather than perpetuating—social disparities in health.

In 1999, only 20 studies in the public health literature employed instruments to measure self-reported experiences of discrimination. Fifteen years later, the number of empirical investigations on discrimination and health easily exceeds 500, with these studies increasingly global in scope and focused on major types of discrimination variously involving race/ethnicity, indigenous status, immigrant status, gender, sexuality, disability, and age, separately and in combination. And yet, as I also document, even as the number of investigations has dramatically expanded, the scope remains narrow: studies remain focused primarily on interpersonal discrimination, and scant research investigates the health impacts of structural discrimination, a gap consonant with the limited epidemiologic research on political systems and population health. Accordingly, to help advance the state of the field, this updated review article: (a) briefly reviews definitions of discrimination, illustrated with examples from the United States; (b) discusses theoretical insights useful for conceptualizing how discrimination can become embodied and produce health inequities, including via distortion of scientific knowledge; (c) concisely summarizes extant evidence—both robust and inconsistent—linking discrimination and health; and (d) addresses several key methodological controversies and challenges, including the need for careful attention to domains, pathways, level, and spatiotemporal scale, in historical context.

Prior research suggests that United States governmental sources documenting the number of law-enforcement-related deaths (i.e., fatalities due to injuries inflicted by law enforcement officers) undercount these incidents. The National Vital Statistics System (NVSS), administered by the federal government and based on state death certificate data, identifies such deaths by assigning them diagnostic codes corresponding to \"legal intervention\" in accordance with the International Classification of Diseases-10th Revision (ICD-10). Newer, nongovernmental databases track law-enforcement-related deaths by compiling news media reports and provide an opportunity to assess the magnitude and determinants of suspected NVSS underreporting. Our a priori hypotheses were that underreporting by the NVSS would exceed that by the news media sources, and that underreporting rates would be higher for decedents of color versus white, decedents in lower versus higher income counties, decedents killed by non-firearm (e.g., Taser) versus firearm mechanisms, and deaths recorded by a medical examiner versus coroner. We created a new US-wide dataset by matching cases reported in a nongovernmental, news-media-based dataset produced by the newspaper The Guardian, The Counted, to identifiable NVSS mortality records for 2015. We conducted 2 main analyses for this cross-sectional study: (1) an estimate of the total number of deaths and the proportion unreported by each source using capture-recapture analysis and (2) an assessment of correlates of underreporting of law-enforcement-related deaths (demographic characteristics of the decedent, mechanism of death, death investigator type [medical examiner versus coroner], county median income, and county urbanicity) in the NVSS using multilevel logistic regression. We estimated that the total number of law-enforcement-related deaths in 2015 was 1,166 (95% CI: 1,153, 1,184). There were 599 deaths reported in The Counted only, 36 reported in the NVSS only, 487 reported in both lists, and an estimated 44 (95% CI: 31, 62) not reported in either source. The NVSS documented 44.9% (95% CI: 44.2%, 45.4%) of the total number of deaths, and The Counted documented 93.1% (95% CI: 91.7%, 94.2%). In a multivariable mixed-effects logistic model that controlled for all individual- and county-level covariates, decedents injured by non-firearm mechanisms had higher odds of underreporting in the NVSS than those injured by firearms (odds ratio [OR]: 68.2; 95% CI: 15.7, 297.5; p < 0.01), and underreporting was also more likely outside of the highest-income-quintile counties (OR for the lowest versus highest income quintile: 10.1; 95% CI: 2.4, 42.8; p < 0.01). There was no statistically significant difference in the odds of underreporting in the NVSS for deaths certified by coroners compared to medical examiners, and the odds of underreporting did not vary by race/ethnicity. One limitation of our analyses is that we were unable to examine the characteristics of cases that were unreported in The Counted. The media-based source, The Counted, reported a considerably higher proportion of law-enforcement-related deaths than the NVSS, which failed to report a majority of these incidents. For the NVSS, rates of underreporting were higher in lower income counties and for decedents killed by non-firearm mechanisms. There was no evidence suggesting that underreporting varied by death investigator type (medical examiner versus coroner) or race/ethnicity.

Nancy Krieger and colleagues argue that law-enforcement-related deaths in the United States should be treated as notifiable conditions, which would allow public health departments to report these data in real-time.