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How COVID-19 has disproportionately impacted people of color in Syracuse

Cassie Cavallaro | Asst. Illustration Editor

Despite making up only 10.8% of the population, Black residents accounted for 23.9% of confirmed cases of COVID-19 as of March 9.

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In December, a doctor told Janice Lovette that her father, Douglas Dixie, only had 24 to 48 hours before he was going to die of COVID-19. 

Nearly three months later, Dixie is alive and has recovered. But to Lovette, he is only alive today because she and her family did not give up hope, even when some employees at the hospital did. 

“(The hospital) was ready to pull the plug on my father by day four, but by day 10, his levels and everything were settling, and he was improving,” Lovette said. “If we didn’t decide that he could fight, it would probably be two months after we put him in the ground.”

Dixie, a Syracuse resident, is one of millions of people of color across the country who have been disproportionately impacted by the pandemic. 



According to data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Black people are 2.9 times more likely than white people to be hospitalized and 1.9 times more likely to die from COVID-19. Latino people were 3.1 times more likely to be hospitalized and 2.3 more times likely to die from COVID-19 than white people. 

And in Onondaga County, despite making up only 11% of the population, Black residents accounted for 24% of confirmed cases of COVID-19 as of March 9. 

Syracuse residents and medical experts said the adverse effects of the pandemic over the past year stemmed from decades of inequalities not only in health care but also in several other systems, such as education and the government. Though the city has offered some help to people from marginalized communities, residents said that aid must continue and expand even after the pandemic has ended. 

Deep roots

Andrea Bernard, the adult and youth service manager at Eastside Family Resource Center in Syracuse, said the pandemic has brought existing problems to the surface.

“This is like a silent yet lasting effect of these systematic inequalities,” Bernard said.

Especially in the health care system, Black people have for years faced discrimination accessing medical care, health insurance and proper representation in the medical community, Bernard said.  

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For many people of color, it can often be difficult to find doctors who look like and understand them, said Common Councilor Latoya Allen, of Syracuse’s 4th District. For residents who are essential workers, it can also be hard to find time to go to the doctor, or if they can’t afford health insurance, fill out the various forms necessary to access Medicaid, Allen said. 

“If you have two or three children and they all have to go to a physical and they have to go to the dentist, that’s a whole day of work that you’re missing,” Allen said. “So some people just financially can’t afford to go to the doctor’s office.”

Inequalities in the health care system also lead to increased rates of chronic illnesses among people of color, which can put them at greater risk of contracting COVID-19, said Mustafa Awayda, who is the chief hospitalist at the Syracuse Veteran Administration Medical Center. 

Health is not only clinical. You might have access to a physician and access to a hospital, but health is much bigger.
Mustafa Awayda, chief hospitalist at the Syracuse Veteran Administration Medical Center

Risk of chronic illness is specifically linked to increased rates of poverty among people of color, Awayda said. In the Syracuse neighborhoods with the highest racially and ethnically concentrated areas of poverty, at least 40% of residents live below the poverty line, and at least 50% of the population are people of color, according to the CNY Fair Housing report.

“Health is not only clinical. You might have access to a physician and access to a hospital, but health is much bigger,” Awayda said. 

When he was diagnosed with COVID-19, Dixie was also battling stage two cancer and had to stay in a nursing home after he recovered from the virus, where he was at an even higher risk of contracting it again.   

Lovette and her aunt, Deanna Holland, said they’re both worried about how Dixie will be able to pay his medical bills, especially given that he is on a fixed income.

“Just imagine his state of mind when he’s going to come home to more medical bills,” Holland said. “He’s already on a fixed income. It’s going to be overwhelming.”

Lack of trust

People of color, and especially members of the Black community, have a “healthy suspicion” about the medical system, said Miriam Mutambudzi, an assistant professor of public health at Syracuse University. 

This stems from trauma Black people have experienced at the hands of medical professionals in the past, including experimentation on enslaved Africans, eugenics and sterilization, Mutambudzi said. Between 1932 and 1972, the CDC conducted a psychological experiment, known as the Tuskegee Syphilis study, which resulted in the death of 128 participants, who were all Black, she said. 

“There’s a lot of different factors, and there’s a lot of different reasons why Black and brown people don’t trust any system — the health care system, the bank system, the government, the school system — and it’s because of things that were done in the past,” Allen said. “It’s just sad that in the health care system, where you’re probably at your most vulnerable, people have been mistreated for so long that they just don’t trust the system.”

When Dixie initially went to the hospital for COVID-19, Lovette and Holland said doctors gave the two of them confusing responses about whether he was stable, what treatment he needed and how long he had to live. 

It’s just sad that in the healthcare system — where you’re probably at your most vulnerable — people have been mistreated for so long
Latoya Allen, common councilor for Syracuse’s 4th district

Lovette said she even spoke to one doctor who hadn’t learned Dixie’s name or determined what state he was in. Eventually, a family friend connected Dixie’s family to a doctor who ensured that he was treated well, but Lovette and Holland both said they don’t think Dixie would still be alive if they hadn’t intervened. 

“He came up out of it. He beat it. He won,” Holland said. “But think of how many people took those words where the doctors said give up on him and gave up and let their loved ones pass away. That’s unbelievable to me.”

Lack of access

Throughout the pandemic, people of color have also faced heightened challenges accessing COVID-19 tests and vaccines as well as technology, which has become essential for daily life. 

In Syracuse, many of the testing sites — including one at the Community Health Center — are drive-thru only. But Holland said some of her neighbors didn’t have cars and were unable to get tested if they were exposed to the virus or showed symptoms. 

And now that vaccine rollouts have started across the state, it can be difficult for residents who don’t have cars to travel to vaccination sites, Allen said. With long wait or travel times, many residents who work full time don’t have a moment in their schedule to access tests or vaccines, she said. 

“It’s a lot of work and sometimes people don’t have the capacity to do that,” Allen said. 

The pandemic also highlighted a stark digital divide for many communities in Syracuse.

To book a COVID-19 test or vaccine, many places require individuals to register online, but some residents don’t have technology or reliable wifi to do so, Bernard said. At the beginning of the pandemic, many families also didn’t have proper access to computers for children to attend online classes, Allen said. 

“You look at those suburban schools and the way they rolled out things, it was a lot different from the way it was in the city,” Allen said. “It looked like it was a lot smoother and it was easier for them to go remote.”

Stepping up

Several local churches, including the People’s African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church and Tucker Missionary Baptist Church, have set up pop-up vaccination clinics for people who can’t drive to some of the larger vaccination spots in the area. 

Several other organizations, including Cafe Sankofa Cooperative, an organization in Syracuse’s Southside neighborhood that promotes healthy living, opened food pantries for people who weren’t able to access healthy foods.

“People just needed to know that somebody cared and somebody was there so if you were on your last $10, it’s all good. Keep your last $10,” Allen said. “We got a food box worth $50 that you can have to take home and feed your family.”

Home HeadQuarters, an organization that offers housing services for local residents, also provided coronavirus relief funds to landlords who had tenants that lost their jobs and weren’t able to pay their rent. The landlords could use the funds to help residents with home repairs and fixes, said Allen, who is also the director of community engagement at Home HeadQuarters. 

The Dunbar Center, which offers programs for the Black community in Syracuse, also held a virtual summer school program for students and delivered breakfast and lunch to every child enrolled in the program, Allen said.  

“There was a lot of unity, a lot of different people helping each other,” Allen said. “It was a bad situation, but I think we made the most out of it.”

But Allen also said the help can’t stop when the pandemic stops. People need to continue pushing elected officials and others in power to address inequalities in health care, education and other institutions, she said. 

“It has to start with the individual on every level — in the government, in the health care system, in the banking system. Everything has to start with individuals who are willing to see that there are some inequalities, but there’s also solutions and ways to make things fair,” Allen said. “The individual has to be bold enough to realize that things that the systems that were in place before just don’t work.”





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