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Over the past few weeks, I’ve shared some of the ways that diversity and inclusion have real-life consequences in healthcare, from important health screenings to infant and maternal mortality. Today’s post will wrap up this series with an exploration on the impact of a lack of DEI in healthcare can have on LGBTQ people.

LGBTQ (Especially Trans) Equity and Inclusion

Around the country, the fundamental human rights of LGBTQ people are being challenged and healthcare is no exception. Our contribution to these inequities is not in the form of a reversal of progress, but rather a failure to make progress quickly enough to meet the needs of LGBTQ people through access to healthcare services and affordable care and coverage.

Fortunately, healthcare companies, in partnership with advocacy organizations like the Human Rights Campaign, are improving, but it will take a long time before our efforts catch up to the significant disparities that LGBTQ people face.

For instance, according to the Center for American Progress, approximately twice as many LGB adults are likely to delay or not seek medical care. Reasons for this can vary from not having access to health insurance to having less than inclusive experiences in the healthcare system. The same report states that while the rate of suicidal ideation in the heterosexual population is at around 2% (a number that is still too high), that same data point in the transgender population is 50%.

The same report states that while the rate of suicidal ideation in the heterosexual population is at around 2% (a number that is still too high), that same data point in the transgender population is 50%. Share on X

No, that is not a typo. Fifty percent. And these numbers only become more dire for people of color, for whom the combined stigma of homophobia and transphobia with racism lead to worse health outcomes.

According to the same report from the Center for American Progress, lack of access to employer-funded health insurance (because alongside challenges in healthcare this population also faces disparities in housing and employment) as well as social stigma and a lack of cultural competence in the healthcare system contribute to these disparities.

Although as a black, immigrant, woman, I have faced many a racial micro-aggression during a visit to the doctor, I also have significant privilege as a cis-heterosexual woman. I may have had to help a doctor pronounce my name, but I have never had them insist or call me by a different name than who I wanted to be. I have never been mis-gendered or had to teach or explain my identity to my doctor. And most of all, I have never not gone to the doctor, opting instead to suffer or let a health condition deteriorate because the experience of interacting with the healthcare system was more painful than the condition

Diversity, equity and inclusion is, again, a matter of life and death.

Conclusion

I could go on. There are so many marginalized populations who are not receiving the care they need or deserve. But I don’t need to. Not because these three examples are sufficient. Indeed, they are not. They do not account for the everyday micro inequities that are a part of patient experience or the number of Americans living in poverty without health insurance who may never even have access to care.

So no, these few examples are not sufficient. But even in this small sampling of our industry, we must remember that each of these statistics or percentages is a person. It’s a mother, a baby, a neighbor, a human being who deserves access to a full and healthy life. And if getting diversity, equity, and inclusion right means that we can save even just one mother and baby, create an inviting space for even just one transgender person, or screen and prevent just one cancer, it is worth the investment.

We must remember that each of these statistics or percentages is a person. It’s a mother, a baby, a neighbor, a human being who deserves access to a full and healthy life. Share on X

When we are willing to ask ourselves, why might women of color not seek prenatal care or have co-morbidities that contribute to poorer outcomes in maternal and infant health; when we are willing to push beyond our own paradigms of gender and sexuality and allow ourselves as a care system to sit in the discomfort of our learning and growth so that our patients don’t have to; when we take the time to see our patients not only as the people who come into our doors but all the people who should come and choose not to because they don’t feel welcomed, included, and valued; when we invest in diversity, equity, and inclusion, we are investing in people, in our communities, and in the health and well-being of those who it is our privilege to serve.

[Note: This forms part of a 3-post series; check out Part 1 and Part 2.]