{"id":267815,"date":"2020-09-05T05:52:54","date_gmt":"2020-09-05T09:52:54","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/?p=267815"},"modified":"2020-09-05T05:52:54","modified_gmt":"2020-09-05T09:52:54","slug":"why-black-aging-matters-too","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/2020\/09\/05\/why-black-aging-matters-too\/","title":{"rendered":"Why Black Aging Matters, Too"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/a>
Yet, older Black Americans have received little attention as protesters proclaim that Black Lives Matter and experts churn out studies about the coronavirus. (Pexels photo)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Old. Chronically ill. Black.<\/p>\n

People who fit this description are more likely to die from COVID-19 than any other group in the country.<\/p>\n

They are perishing quietly, out of sight, in homes and apartment buildings, senior housing complexes, nursing homes and hospitals, disproportionately poor<\/a>, frail<\/a> and ill, after enduring a lifetime of racism and its attendant adverse health effects<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Yet, older Black Americans have received little attention as protesters proclaim that Black Lives Matter and experts churn out studies about the coronavirus.<\/p>\n

\u201cPeople are talking about the race disparity in COVID deaths, they\u2019re talking about the age disparity, but they\u2019re not talking about how race and age disparities interact: They\u2019re not talking about older Black adults,\u201d said Robert Joseph Taylor, director of the Program for Research on Black Americans at the University of Michigan\u2019s Institute for Social Research.<\/p>\n

A KHN analysis of data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention<\/a> underscores the extent of their vulnerability. It found that African Americans ages 65 to 74 died of COVID-19 five times as often as whites. In the 75-to-84 group, the death rate for Blacks was 3\u00bd times greater. Among those 85 and older, Blacks died twice as often. In all three age groups, death rates for Hispanics were higher than for whites but lower than for Blacks.<\/p>\n

(The gap between Blacks and whites narrows over time because advanced age, itself, becomes an increasingly important, shared risk. Altogether, 80% of COVID-19 deaths<\/a> are among people 65 and older.)<\/p>\n

The data comes from the week that ended Feb. 1 through Aug. 8. Although breakdowns by race and age were not consistently reported, it is the best information available.<\/p>\n

Mistrustful of Outsiders<\/strong><\/p>\n

Social and economic disadvantage, reinforced by racism, plays a significant part in unequal outcomes. Throughout their lives, Blacks have poorer access to health care<\/a> and receive services of lower quality than does the general population. Starting in middle age, the toll becomes evident: more chronic medical conditions, which worsen over time<\/a>, and earlier deaths.<\/p>\n

Several conditions \u2014 diabetes, chronic kidney disease, obesity, heart failure and pulmonary hypertension, among others \u2014 put older Blacks at heightened risk<\/a> of becoming seriously ill and dying from COVID-19.<\/p>\n

Yet many vulnerable Black seniors are deeply distrustful of government and health care institutions, complicating efforts to mitigate the pandemic\u2019s impact.<\/p>\n

The infamous Tuskegee syphilis study \u2014 in which African American participants in Alabama were not treated for their disease \u2014 remains a shocking, indelible example of racist medical experimentation. Just as important, the lifelong experience of racism in health care settings<\/a> \u2014 symptoms discounted, needed treatments not given \u2014 leaves psychic scars.<\/p>\n

In Seattle, Catholic Community Services sponsors the African American Elders Program<\/a>, which serves nearly 400 frail homebound seniors each year.<\/p>\n

\u201cA lot of Black elders in this area migrated from the South a long time ago and were victims of a lot of racist practices growing up,\u201d said Margaret Boddie, 77, who directs the program. \u201cWith the pandemic, they\u2019re fearful of outsiders coming in and trying to tell them how to think and how to be. They think they\u2019re being targeted. There\u2019s a lot of paranoia.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey won\u2019t open the door to people they don\u2019t know, even to talk,\u201d complicating efforts to send in social workers or nurses to provide assistance, Boddie said.<\/p>\n

In Los Angeles, Karen Lincoln<\/a> directs Advocates for African American Elders and is an associate professor of social work at the University of Southern California.<\/p>\n

\u201cHealth literacy is a big issue in the older African American population because of how people were educated when they were young,\u201d she said. \u201cMy maternal grandmother, she had a third-grade education. My grandfather, he made it to the fifth grade. For many people, understanding the information that\u2019s put out, especially when it changes so often and people don\u2019t really understand why, is a challenge.\u201d<\/p>\n

What this population needs, Lincoln suggested, is \u201chelp from people who they can relate to\u201d \u2014 ideally, a cadre of African American community health workers.<\/p>\n

With suspicion running high, older Blacks are keeping to themselves and avoiding health care providers.<\/p>\n

\u201cTesting? I know only of maybe two people who\u2019ve been tested,\u201d said Mardell Reed, 80, who lives in Pasadena, California, and volunteers with Lincoln\u2019s program. \u201cTaking a vaccine [for the coronavirus]? That is just not going to happen with most of the people I know. They don\u2019t trust it and I don\u2019t trust it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Reed has high blood pressure, anemia, arthritis and thyroid and kidney disease, all fairly well controlled. She rarely goes outside because of COVID-19. \u201cI\u2019m just afraid of being around people,\u201d she admitted.<\/p>\n

Other factors contribute to the heightened risk for older Blacks during the pandemic. They have fewer financial resources to draw upon and fewer community assets (such as grocery stores, pharmacies, transportation, community organizations that provide aging services) to rely on in times of adversity. And housing circumstances can contribute to the risk of infection.<\/p>\n

In Chicago, Gilbert James, 78, lives in a 27-floor senior housing building, with 10 apartments on each floor. But only two of the building\u2019s three elevators are operational at any time. Despite a \u201ctwo-person-per-elevator policy,\u201d people crowd onto the elevators, making it difficult to maintain social distance.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe building doesn\u2019t keep us updated on how they\u2019re keeping things clean or whether people have gotten sick or died\u201d of COVID-19, James said. Nationally, there are no efforts to track COVID-19 in low-income senior housing and little guidance about necessary infection control<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Large numbers of older Blacks also live in intergenerational households<\/a>, where other adults, many of them essential workers, come and go for work, risking exposure to the coronavirus. As children return to school, they, too, are potential vectors of infection.<\/p>\n

\u2018Striving Yet Never Arriving\u2019<\/strong><\/p>\n

In recent years, the American Psychological Association<\/a> has called attention to the impact of racism-related stress in older African Americans \u2014 yet another source of vulnerability.<\/p>\n

This toxic stress, revived each time racism becomes manifest, has deleterious consequences to physical and mental health. Even racist acts committed against others can be a significant stressor<\/a>.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis older generation went through the civil rights movement. Desegregation. Their kids went through busing. They grew up with a knee on their neck, as it were,\u201d said Keith Whitfield<\/a>, provost at Wayne State University and an expert on aging in African Americans. \u201cFor them, it was an ongoing battle, striving yet never arriving. But there\u2019s also a lot of resilience that we shouldn\u2019t underestimate.\u201d<\/p>\n

This year, for some elders, violence against Blacks and COVID-19\u2019s heavy toll on African American communities have been painful triggers. \u201cThe level of stress has definitely increased,\u201d Lincoln said.<\/p>\n

During ordinary times, families and churches are essential supports, providing practical assistance and emotional nurturing. But during the pandemic, many older Blacks have been isolated.<\/p>\n

In her capacity as a volunteer, Reed has been phoning Los Angeles seniors. \u201cFor some of them, I\u2019m the first person they\u2019ve talked to in two to three days. They talk about how they don\u2019t have anyone. I never knew there were so many African American elders who never married and don\u2019t have children,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

Meanwhile, social networks that keep elders feeling connected to other people are weakening.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is especially difficult for elders is the disruption of extended support networks, such as neighbors or the people they see at church,\u201d said Taylor, of the University of Michigan. \u201cThose are the \u2018Hey, how are you doing? How are your kids? Anything you need?\u2019 interactions. That type of caring is very comforting and it\u2019s now missing.\u201d<\/p>\n

In Brooklyn, New York, Barbara Apparicio, 77, has been having Bible discussions with a group of church friends on the phone each weekend. Apparicio is a breast cancer survivor who had a stroke in 2012 and walks with a cane. Her son and his family live in an upstairs apartment, but she does not see him much.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe hardest part for me [during this pandemic] has been not being able to go out to do the things I like to do and see people I normally see,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

In Atlanta, Celestine Bray Bottoms, 83, who lives on her own in an affordable senior housing community, is relying on her faith to pull her through what has been a very difficult time. Bottoms was hospitalized with chest pains this month \u2014 a problem that persists. She receives dialysis three times a week and has survived leukemia.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t like the way the world is going. Right now, it\u2019s awful,\u201d she said. \u201cBut every morning when I wake up, the first thing I do is thank the Lord for another day. I have a strong faith and I feel blessed because I\u2019m still alive. And I\u2019m doing everything I can not to get this virus because I want to be here a while longer.\u201d<\/p>\n

KHN data editor Elizabeth Lucas contributed to this story.<\/em><\/p>\n

Kaiser Health News<\/a> (KHN) is a national health policy news service. It is an editorially independent program of the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation<\/a> which is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente.<\/em><\/p>\n

USE OUR CONTENT<\/h3>\n

This story can be republished for free (details<\/a>).<\/p>\n

Subscribe<\/a> to KHN’s free Morning Briefing.<\/p>\n

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