A meeting with the MAHA grassroots

What I heard and how I’m approaching this moment.

A few weeks ago, I got an invitation that stopped me in my tracks. Leaders and grassroots members* of a local Make America Healthy Again (MAHA) chapter wanted to meet—with me, and four public health leaders I deeply admire.**

I sat with it for a long time. Honestly, my gut reaction was no. Not just because I’m busy, not just because it felt risky, but mainly because I’m angry. I’m heartbroken. Watching the world I spent my career in and the people I care about being destroyed—brick by brick and getting taken over by falsehoods and value systems I adamantly disagree with. To me, MAHA has been right at the center of that destruction.

I didn’t know what this meeting would bring. Would it be a political ambush? Would I be able to hold back my grief and rage? Could I trust them not to twist my words and blast them on social media?

But after a lot of wrestling—and, frankly, putting on my big girl pants—I decided to show up. My goals were simple: 75% listening, 25% speaking my truth.

The meeting was last Friday. And it turned out to be one of the most raw, honest, and important conversations I’ve had in years. At first, we all agreed to keep it private. But afterward, everyone was surprised—pleasantly—by how constructive it was. With their permission, I’m sharing a glimpse of it with you.

First: This is a time to listen

As angry as I am, I also know this: if we are truly honest with ourselves, the systems that public health and healthcare built in the 20th century are not keeping up with the needs of Americans today. The world has changed. The information landscape has shifted dramatically. The genuine power of a curiosity-driven public—one that expects faster information, more transparency, and more agency—has been unleashed.

Those of us in the health world are now at a crossroads. We can either double down on what we know—the old systems, the old ways of doing things—or we can listen, learn, and evolve. Both instincts are understandable. Both instincts are necessary. But for me, I’m far more interested in the latter: figuring out better ways to serve Americans where they are now, not where we wish they were.

Listening doesn’t mean agreeing with everything. It doesn’t mean validating falsehoods. It doesn’t mean abandoning evidence or the values that guide me. It simply means understanding—truly understanding—what is driving people’s fears, frustrations, questions, and hopes. Because if we don’t listen, we will continue to build systems that overlook the people we are supposed to serve. And if we keep missing them, decisions about public health will continue to be made without our input—and we’re already living with the consequences.

What I heard

I heard three powerful themes emerge from this meeting.

1. First, the health system has failed them.

Everyone in the room had a story with a common thread: heartbreak, betrayal, and thus, mistrust:

• A mom caring for an adult child with autism, navigating a system that constantly made things harder, not easier.

• A family ripped apart by the opioid epidemic, started by pharmaceutical greed and perpetuated by indifference.

• A small business owner who survived pandemic shutdowns, but felt invisible and expendable the entire time.

These weren’t abstract debates about policy. These were lived experiences—painful, messy, human. And the message was clear: when it mattered most, the systems built to protect people didn’t show up for them.

2. Our communication isn’t connecting.

Information dissemination, which many in public health and healthcare have been doing, is inherently different from communication, which involves listening. It’s not that people are always rejecting science outright. It’s that, mainly, no one is meeting them where they are—or taking the time to answer their real, everyday questions:

• Why does my newborn need the Hepatitis B vaccine if we’re not at high risk?

• Why did Covid-19 recommendations change so often?

• Why are we beholden to a pharmaceutical industry that fueled an opioid epidemic?

These are good-faith questions. When public health doesn’t show up with clear, empathetic answers, others do—Joe Rogan, RFK Jr., wellness influencers. If we stay silent, preach from a moral high ground, or offer one-size-fits-all answers, we leave a vacuum. And that vacuum is getting filled by louder, more relatable, more empathetic, and sometimes more dangerous voices.

3. Grappling with the costs of MAGA alignment.

Something that genuinely surprised me: some acknowledged that hitching their movement to the broader MAGA movement was a risky bet. I heard that they are grappling with the consequences: cuts to public health research on diabetes, food access, maternal health, and more. Cuts that are hurting their ability to make progress.

I heard that much frustration stems from the perception that “the system” should sometimes do more for people, at least where they see it working for them. For example, one mom was saying how much she was concerned about Medicaid being cut because she relies on it for her adult, autistic son. Without it, she would have to use her retirement savings to become a full-time caregiver for him.

While they are fully supportive of Secretary Kennedy’s vision, some believe that blind allegiance to MAGA may be hindering the development of real solutions, rather than facilitating them.

Speaking our truths

The second part of my goal in going to this meeting: I needed MAHA people to hear me, too. I was proud that my colleagues and I were able to accomplish this. We said:

• We care deeply, too. We are also parents, partners, grandparents, and active members of communities. And we’ve dedicated our lives to improving the health of Americans. To paint scientists, public health workers, and leaders in public health in a different light is deeply hurtful.

• The destruction is real. Friends and colleagues are being fired. Research funding is disappearing before our eyes. Leaders and colleagues are being asked to chase falsehoods, rather than progress. The very foundations of public health are being dismantled. This hurts the most vulnerable in our communities, and it also directly hurts making America healthier. Many of the cuts go directly against MAHA priorities.

• When leadership targets those of us in science, it’s dangerous and scary. People show up at our houses. Paul Offit shared a powerful story during this meeting: his childhood experience in a polio ward led him to be a pediatrician and develop vaccines. And, yes, he eventually profited from that which many have criticized him for, including RFK Jr., who accused him of being a pharma shill; but then he asked the group very directly, “Do you still see me as the enemy?” One of them replied, “Of course not.” That moment stayed with me.

Where we go from here

MAHA is not a monolith, and the points of view reflected in these conversations don’t necessarily reflect everyone. For example, in this group, some were up to date on vaccines, some weren’t. Some were Republicans, some Democrats, some Independents. In general, it was clear we have fundamental areas of disagreement—on vaccines, data, and even the value of science itself.

Regardless, I want to keep the conversation going, to find slivers of common ground where we can make incremental progress. I believe the only path forward is to reach out to those who lack trust in public health or scientists, instead of meeting skepticism with blind resistance.

We agreed to keep talking—and I intend to keep showing up. I’m still approaching this with a healthy dose of skepticism, but I also see cracks in the foundation—small, real openings where common ground exists. There are places where we share the same goals: better access to nutritious school lunches, reduced corporate influence on health, longer and healthier lives by targeting chronic diseases, broader access to understandable and helpful information, and substantial support for families. Maybe, just maybe, we can work on some of these solutions together. Because clearly, we both need something from each other.

Today, many people are chasing quick wins. But odd bedfellows coming together doesn’t happen because of a lucky break or a viral post. They happen because of hard, sustained, often invisible work to build relationships. Not transactions. My friend Brinda Adhikari, the former Executive Producer of The Problem with Jon Stewart and now co-host of the Why Should I Trust You? podcast, has spent months, even years, nurturing these relationships and was the one who set up this meeting—patiently creating the space for real conversations between public health and the public. I’m honored she trusted me and a few others enough to enter the room.

Bottom line

I’m grateful to the MAHA grassroots individuals who showed up—to share their stories and to listen to ours. And I look forward to continuing this discussion.

Most people want a healthier America. Most people are also frustrated with the current systems.

So, I’m focusing on three things: Fight for people, not institutions. Meet questions with empathy. Look for opportunity in the rubble—because it’s there, if we’re willing to see it. Even when it’s hard.

Love, YLE

*MAHA members of this meeting: Elizabeth Frost, Nancy Fuller, Daniel DeLuca, Donald Wiggins, and Mark Harris. **Public health leaders of this meeting: Me, Paul Offit, Megan Ranney, Craig Spencer, and Reed Tuckson

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Your Local Epidemiologist (YLE) is founded and operated by Dr. Katelyn Jetelina, MPH PhD—an epidemiologist, wife, and mom of two little girls. YLE is a public health newsletter that reaches over 375,000 people in more than 132 countries, with one goal: to translate the ever-evolving public health science so that people are well-equipped to make evidence-based decisions. This newsletter is free to everyone, thanks to the generous support of fellow YLE community members. To support the effort, subscribe or upgrade below: