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equity

The world bids a sad farewell to Dr. Paul Farmer, champion of global health equity.

You can often tell a lot about a person's life by how the world responds to their death. Over the weekend, when I started seeing a flood of social media messages from healthcare professionals that included words like "devastated" and "gutted," it was clear that someone of influence in the medical world had passed. I'm not in healthcare, but even I recognized Dr. Paul Farmer's name, largely from this quote of his:

"The idea that some lives matter less is the root of all that is wrong in the world."

After spending decades working and living in various countries around the world, making sure people in underdeveloped nations had access to quality healthcare, Dr. Farmer passed away from an acute cardiac event in his sleep in Rwanda at age 62. His death was like a seismic event in the field of global health, launching a tsunami of grief and remembrance felt around the world, from heads of state who met with him to fellow physicians who worked with him to individuals whose lives he saved.


"It is hard to find the words to express the sad news of the passing of Paul Farmer—the person, the Doctor, the philanthropist. He combined many things hard to find in one person," wrote Paul Kagame, president of Rwanda.

Farmer was physician, a professor, an anthropologist and a fierce advocate for the world's poor. In 1987, he cofounded Partners in Health, one of the world's leading global health and social justice organizations dedicated to bringing high-quality healthcare to those who need it most. Farmer's philosophy was straightforward: The fact that poor people die of illness we have effective treatments for is unacceptable. Farmer's life's work was a testament to his belief that where you live and how much money you have should not determine your right to healthcare.

But Farmer's advocacy work was also much more personal than that. He didn't preach about global equity from atop an ivory tower; he worked on the ground, at the grassroots level, doing hands-on medical care in some of the poorest parts of the world.

Much of Farmer's work involved getting effective AIDS treatments to patients in Haiti and Rwanda in the face of pushback from those who felt it was too expensive or that cultural differences would get in the way. Farmer refused to accept inequity and did everything he could to alleviate it.

“Human rights violations are not accidents; they are not random in distribution or effect," he wrote in "Pathologies of Power: Health, Human Rights and the New War on the Poor." "Rights violations are, rather, symptoms of deeper pathologies of power and are linked intimately to the social conditions that so often determine who will suffer abuse and who will be shielded from harm.”

He was uncompromising in his belief that every human being, regardless of circumstances, should have access to the best healthcare humanity has to offer. Being born into or living in poverty does not give anyone less of a right to health, and if we have effective treatments for illness and disease, everyone should have access to them.

He touched countless lives—those he treated and those he accompanied in the field of service. Often it was people in the medical field he trained with, but he even inspired people outside of healthcare to use their privilege and know-how to better the lives of others.

When you pass away and everyone who met you has only the most glowing things to say about you, you know you've lived a good life. The world has lost not only a great doctor, but a champion of global health equity who serves as an example to us all.

"His vision for the world will live on through Partners in Health," Sheila Davis, Partners in Health CEO, wrote in a statement. "Paul taught all those around him the power of accompaniment, love for one another, and solidarity. Our deepest sympathies are with his family.”

Watch PBS News Hour's remembrance of Dr. Farmer below, and for more details of his extraordinary work, I highly recommend Tracy Kidder's profile of him in The New Yorker. The man was truly a legend of a human being in all the best ways possible.

Rest in peace, Dr. Farmer. Thanks for showing us how it's done.

Twitter / The Hollywood Reporter

Actress Michelle Williams earned a standing ovation for her acceptance speech at the 2019 Emmy Awards, both in the Microsoft Theater in L.A. and among viewers online.

As she accepted her first Emmy award for Lead Actress in a Limited Series/Movie for her role in FX's "Fosse/Verdon," she praised the studios who produced the show for supporting her in everything she needed for the role—including making sure she was paid equitably.


"I see this as an acknowledgment of what is possible when a woman is trusted to discern her own needs, feel safe enough to voice them, and respected enough that they'll be heard," she said.

She explained how being provided what she needed in order to do her job empowered her to do it well. "When I asked for more dance classes, I heard 'yes,'" she said. "More voice lessons, 'yes.' A different wig, a pair of fake teeth not made out of rubber, 'yes.'"

"All of these things, they require effort and they cost more money," she said. "But my bosses never presumed to know better than I did about what I needed in order to do my job and honor Gwen Verdon."

RELATED: Why Amy Adams' silence on equal pay in Hollywood speaks volumes for workers' rights

They also supported her with equal pay, she said, a shout out that prompted nods and cheers from her fellow actors and actresses.

"And so I want to say, thank you so much to FX and to Fox 21 studios for supporting me completely and for paying me equally because they understood that when you put value into a person, it empowers that person to get in touch with their own inherent value. And then where do they put that value? They put it into their work. And so the next time a woman, and especially a woman of color—because she stands to make 52 cents on the dollar compared to her white, male counterpart—tells you what she needs in order to do her job, listen to her. Believe her. Because one day she might stand in front of you and say thank you for allowing her to succeed because of her workplace environment and not in spite of it."

The gender pay gap in Hollywood has been well-documented. A 2016 Forbes article broke it down in detail, sharing how female stars are consistently paid less than male stars.

"The earnings disparity is even worse for women of color," the article states. "While, on average, women in this country make an average of 78% of their male counterparts, African American and Native American women make 64 cents and 59 cents, respectively, for every dollar made by white men, and Hispanic women earn just 56 cents to a white man's dollar."

RELATED: When she learned about the wage gap, she didn't whine. She did something about it.

Statistics are naturally varied, as studies vary in how they determine pay equity. Some studies show a smaller gap, while others show larger ones. But one thing is clear: It doesn't seem to be getting better. For example, a 2018 study showed that women across the board earn 49 cents for every dollar men earn. A more recent Forbes article states that the top 10 highest paid actresses made just 30 cents on the dollar compared to the top 10 highest paid actors.

It's easy to point to the high salaries of famous people and ask why they would ever complain. But inequity is inequity, regardless of industry. Good for Michelle Williams for celebrating her positive experience with this show and imploring other studios to follow that example.

Watch her speech here:

When asked about her plans to seek pay equity for women and combat domestic violence against them, in a debate in Portland on Sept. 30, Oregon Governor Kate Brown defended her record, revealing a painful, personal detail in the process:

"I know what it feels like to be a victim of domestic violence," Brown said. "I know what it feels like to represent clients that can't get restraining orders on abusive partners. That's why I spent a number of years in the Oregon legislature strengthening Oregon's domestic violence and sexual assault laws, including increasing penalties for domestic violence when a child was present."

Governor Kate Brown holds a press conference after the shooting at Umpqua Community College in Roseburg, Oregon. Photo by Scott Olson/Getty Images.


According to a KGW News, Portland, report, it was the first time the governor had publicly discussed her history of abuse at the hands of a former partner — which the governor's office clarified was not her current husband.

Brown's opponent, physician Bud Pierce, issued a baffling response during the debate, ignoring Brown's disclosure while claiming that educated, employed women don't have to worry about violence at the hands of a significant other.

"A woman that has great education and training and a great job is not susceptible to this kind of abuse by men, women or anyone. Powerful women have access to lawyers and courts and go at it," Pierce said.

Domestic violence, he argued, could only be reduced by improving economic conditions for poor women.

His answer drew a chorus of boos from the crowd and Brown, stunned and clearly emotional, reaffirmed her commitment to pay equity.

Pierce, to his credit, apologized after the debate.

"As a physician who began medical school almost 40 years ago, and has seen many patients including women of domestic violence, I know that any women, regardless of economic status, can be subject to domestic violence and sexual abuse," he wrote in a statement. "Sexual and physical abuse is morally wrong, is against the law, and must be opposed with all efforts."

There's no type of person who isn't vulnerable to domestic violence.

Partner and familial abuse is indifferent to color and class, and no one, rich, poor, white, black, Latino, Asian, Native American, female, or male, is immune. According to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence, nearly 1 in 3 women and 1 in 4 men will experience some form of violent partner abuse in their lifetime. Poor women do face specific challenges — lack of paid sick days to seek treatment, spotty access to medical and child care, and limited funds to put distance between themselves and their abusers — but it's not just poor women who feel compelled to remain in an abusive relationship for economic reasons.

According to a 2013 Daily Beast report, domestic violence victims who are upper-middle-class or wealthy frequently face economic and legal abuse, as well as threats of financial ruin from their abusers, who frequently are similarly advantaged. Indeed, the list of rich and famous women who have reportedly been victimized — Nicole Brown Simpson, Rihanna, Whitney Houston, Madonna, Halle Berry — is long and continues to grow.

Singer Rihanna was assaulted by boyfriend Chris Brown in 2009. Photo by Stephen Lovekin/Getty Images.

Implying that being educated and having means is all it takes to "escape" an abusive relationship reinforces the notion that, for the women who cannot escape, continuing to subject themselves to abuse must be their fault. Meanwhile, countless anonymous women and men — poor, middle class, and wealthy — suffer in silence.

Solving this problem requires more than an either/or approach.

Improving economic conditions for poor women — and expanding access to shelters, counseling, and family services — is a necessary component. So too is acknowledging that domestic violence can happen to anyone, anywhere, anytime.

Helping victims overcome the notion that abuse "shouldn't, couldn't happen to me" empowers them to take most important step — seeking a way out.

Photo by Scott Olson/Getty Images.

No single solution will end domestic violence permanently and for everyone. But by opening up about her past, Governor Brown took an early step, sending a critical message to victims from all walks of life — rich or poor, white or non-white, female or male:

You're not alone, and it's not your fault.

You know those moments that just seem like something out of a movie?

You know the ones — when you're expecting an uplifting song to start playing right at the climax of a tearjerking scene, which you happen to be seeing live before your eyes? Well, I just witnessed an Oscar-worthy performance.

This weekend as I sat in Starbucks, writing — I know, it doesn't get much more cliché than that — I noticed a man and his son walk into the coffee shop. My gaydar immediately informed me that I was in the presence of my own kind.


Photo by Ben Pruchnie/Getty Images.

The boy was very handsome: With a Gaga shirt and rolled-up jeans, he looked to be around 16. A man who appeared to be his father — who could only be described as a man's man — accompanied him. Large and intimidating in stature, his father wore a camouflaged shirt and some rather dirty jeans.

A moment later, another young boy about the same age came into the shop. He walked over to the first boy and gave him a loving hug.

The father sternly nodded his head at the boy in a rather macho display of a greeting.

"Uh oh," I thought. This didn't look to be the kind of guy that would be incredibly happy about having an openly gay son.

The boys walked up to the counter to order their overpriced lattes, and the father stepped in to pay.

After getting their drinks and sitting down, the father said to the boys, "You guys be good" and gave them both handshakes (I told you he was a man's man). He told his son to call him when he was ready to be picked up, and walked out of the store. Facing the front door, I saw the father stop at the window of the storefront. With their backs turned to the door, unaware that dad was still watching, the boys leaned in for a kiss.

To my surprise, the father's reaction was that of a beaming smile. His son was in love, and it didn't matter that it happened to be with a boy.

Photo by Lhin Nguyen/Flickr.

Inside, I was a basket case. I held it together in public, but I really wanted to cry at the beautiful moment I had just witnessed.

But then it hit me: I had just judged someone. I had instantly assumed that because this man fit a certain stereotype, he was against equality and there was no way he could possibly approve of his son's sexuality.

It's easy to become cynical and jaded, especially when it seems that we are all too often faced with devastating stories like that of Leelah Alcorn, who took her life because of the rejection she faced from her parents after coming out as trans.

We can't forget that there are people doing better than we sometimes give them credit for.

I myself was met with rejection from much of my conservative family because of my sexuality, which has taken me years to overcome. But it occurred to me that for a group that often faces so much judgment, people in the LGBT community can be quite judgmental ourselves. We can sometimes jump to the assumption that people hate us for our identity — and many people certainly do — but we can't forget that there are people doing better than we sometimes give them credit for.

For every story of a person writing "faggot" on the door of a gay couple, there is one of a father smiling while watching his gay teen son openly embrace a boy he cares for.

For every horrible coming-out story, there is the story of a family that meets their loved ones with support and acceptance.

We certainly shouldn't undermine the struggles our community faces. We shouldn't only show the good and ignore the bad. We shouldn't stop fighting for equity just because we've received it for some.

But now, on those bad days when it seems like the odds are stacked against us, I can think back on the scene I witnessed at Starbucks — a scene of love and acceptance from an unexpected source — and have a reason to smile.