How long have you been a member of the Black Health Network, and what drew you to CBHN?
I just recently became a member of the California Black Health Network shortly after beginning my internship. I was drawn to CBHN because I wanted to be part of an organization that actively advocates for health equity and uplifts Black communities everywhere. My experiences with CBHN have been nothing short of wonderful, as they have given me the platform to learn, contribute, and give back to the community.
What is your current profession?
This spring, I will graduate from UC Irvine and continue my education in graduate school, where I will pursue a Master of Public Health emphasizing in global health and epidemiology. My long-term goal is to work in preventative medicine research with a focus on global health equity and improving access to care for underserved populations.
From your perspective, what barriers exist in achieving health equity for Black Californians?
One of the most significant barriers to achieving health equity for Black Californians is unequal access to quality resources. Whether it is access to healthcare services, nutritious food, safe housing, or educational opportunities, many of our communities in California face systemic challenges that impact our health outcomes. Medial mistrust and cultural competence in particular have exacerbated disparities that extend beyond the healthcare world, which is why organizations like CBHN are so important.
Both in your work and with CBHN, how have you been able to prioritize the health of Black Californians?
Through my internship with CBHN and my academic experiences, I have been able to contribute to conversations surrounding health equity, community engagement, and public health education.
In May, I hosted a Beauty Detox Day to educate students about the potential dangers of toxic chemicals in beauty and personal care products, especially because Black women and communities of color are often disproportionately exposed to these products. This event allowed me to connect public health education with culturally relevant practices, helping students better understand ingredient safety, advocacy, and the importance of non-toxic alternatives.
What inspires you to keep doing the work you do?
What inspires me most is the opportunity to create meaningful change and improve the lives of others. Growing up in Oakland, I witnessed how health outcomes can be influenced by factors outside of an individual’s control, including access to resources, education, and healthcare. Those experiences are what motivate me to pursue a career in public health and advocate for communities that have historically been underserved.
What's the bravest thing you've ever done?
One of the bravest things I have ever done was staying true to my beliefs in a world of so much controversy. For me, that means advocating for those without a voice even when the issues I care about are not always the most popular or commonly supported. Sometimes it can be difficult, but I have learned that sometimes the greatest changes happen because someone refused to accept that things had to stay the way they were.
What's the best advice you've ever received?
The best advice I’ve received is to prioritize who you want to be, not what you want to be. Sure, if you pursue something and work hard enough, you can do it. But what does that mean if you’re not proud of your character? Every day, I work hard to be intentional and genuine, so even on hard days, I can reflect and admire the character I uphold. If we stay true to ourselves, the values that we hold, and the type of person we are, success is bound to come.
Is public health still worth it? Are there even jobs? What will this field look like after graduation? Will this degree lead to jobs I actually want? What is the starting salary in this field? How much debt will I take on?
These are the questions many of us are asking, especially with everything going on in the world. Life can feel hard to navigate. School is demanding. The future feels uncertain. The job market keeps shifting. And for those of us who care about health, community, and equity, public health can feel like a field that is changing every single week.
This is exactly why we need to take action.
Public health has never just been about research, hospitals, or the general population. Public health includes everyone, especially those who have been marginalized, ignored, and left behind. It’s about the policies that encourage and make healthcare accessible for everyone. It’s about who gains autonomy and who is left without choices. For Black communities in particular, public health is deeply personal, and it is up to us to promote resources that make all forms of healthcare access more equitable and improve our lives.
When I first began thinking seriously about public health, I saw it as a field that could connect so many of the things I care about: health equity, community advocacy, policy, education, and access. I thought that entering the field would allow me to make a true difference in the things I cared about, but I was in for quite the surprise.
With the recent administrative changes, my dreams were almost immediately put at a halt. The dismantling of public health as a whole through the “Big Beautiful Bill” has made many of us question whether the field we hoped to enter will even be supported by the time we get there. What once felt like a path forward began to sprint backward without giving us time to even process what was going on. The BBB has raised concerns because of what it has done to healthcare access, public health funding, Medicaid, community programs, and the resources that many marginalized communities rely on. I was told by my professors and mentors that “public health was dying,” as the resources that helped marginalized communities began disappearing from websites and clinics began closing. The One Big Beautiful Bill Act has been reported to reduce federal health spending significantly over the next decade, with major impacts on Medicaid and health coverage, specifically targeting our communities.
Administrative changes have created even more pressure and uncertainty. In 2025, HHS announced a major restructuring plan that would consolidate divisions, centralize functions, reduce regional offices, and cut the department’s workforce. That uncertainty can be scary for students and recent graduates, especially those of us trying to find our place in a field that already feels under attack.
At the same time, the rise of AI is changing how different roles within the public sector are performed. In some ways, AI can make us more efficient. It can help organize data, automate repetitive administrative tasks, summarize information, identify trends, support surveillance, and speed up reporting. But efficiency is not the same thing as equity. Without restrictions, AI has the potential to reinforce the same disparities that public health attempts to address.
This is why post-grad planning matters just as much as degree selection. Before enrolling, students should not only ask if they care about the field, but also whether the degree will lead to jobs they actually want, what the starting salary looks like, and how much debt they may take on. These questions are not meant to discourage us from pursuing public health. Instead, they help us enter the field with more clarity, strategy, and purpose.
As I learned more, I began researching and trying to get involved in organizations that uplift Black students, women, and underserved communities. The act felt like a backstab, and changes like this are personal. They show up in our families, our neighborhoods, our schools, and our futures. But instead of pushing me away from public health, this moment made me realize why the field matters even more.
It is important to remember that just because the field has changed, whether funding has been cut or jobs feel more limited, there is still always a need for public health; we just need to know where to look. The new landscape of public health may include more technology, more AI, more data, and more competition, but it will also require people who understand the needs of real communities. AI can help identify patterns, but it cannot replace lived experience. It can speed up systems, but it cannot build trust on its own. Public health will still need advocates, educators, researchers, policymakers, and leaders who are committed to making sure that efficiency does not come at the cost of equity.
That is what inspired me to pursue my Master’s in Public Health, not because the path feels easy or secure, but because our communities deserve people who are willing to fight for access, equity, and care when those things are being threatened. The future of public health may look different than I expected, but the need for it has not disappeared. If anything, this moment has made it even clearer why we need people who are willing to stay and improve our own futures.
By Monica Soni, MD
Covered California Chief Medical Officer
As we celebrate Black Music Month, I would like to share with you how I connect music to my family’s overall health and well-being. Since a very young age, music has always rocked my world.
At the age of 4, I was already dancing to the sounds of jazz, hip hop, modern, and West African styles. Music didn’t just play in the background of my life — it nurtured me. Its rhythms moved me, its melodies lifted my spirit, and its harmonies carried me through. Music has many properties that allow you to find health in every beat.
The benefits I’ve experienced from music extend well beyond being active. It has been restorative while supporting my mental well-being and offering a profound sense of emotional healing.
At home, we listen to music all the time, while making dinner, doing homework, and during our “Family Dance Party.” Research in the field suggests that music can be used as supplementary therapy for depression, anxiety, cognitive impairment, and chronic pain. When I need to decompress and relax, I always resort to music to find joy, be it a “quiet Spanish guitar,” “Moroccan mornings,” or “Funky Jazz Fusion.” In fact, I am listening to serene background music that puts me at ease as I write my thoughts on music and health.
One of my fond memories as a child was enjoying summer with dance and listening to songs such as “Hot Fun in the Summertime,” by Sly and the Family Stone, with its true evocation of a lazy summer day, or “Buffalo Soldier,” by Bob Marley, evoking my mom’s Jamaican roots. And “Wish I Didn’t Miss You,” by Angie Stone, which provides me with a rhythmic balance of emotion and internal conflict. All these songs help lower my stress levels, lift my spirit, and connect with myself and loved ones.
Music, especially Black music, has the power to bring people together and provide a strong sense of community. It has positive effects on people’s moods, helping us to balance the ups and downs of daily life, and keeping us moving.
In celebrating Black music and sound, I find it important to call attention to music as a resource for healing the mind, body, and soul. It has the power to unify people; to bring back memories; to connect us to our ancestors and history. It is through music that we allow our bodies and minds to be connected, to move and become active. One of the benefits of dancing—and I still call myself a dancer! —is keeping the body in motion. As the living legend Herbie Hancock said, “Music is the tool to express life—and all that makes a difference.”
Black music has long proven to be more than entertainment – it is a voice, a force, and a legacy that has influenced generations within American society. From the days of slavery to the present, Black music has been a form of resistance and a powerful way for communities to communicate when their voices were often ignored or silenced. Spirituals carried messages of hope, survival, and freedom. Blues and Jazz later became expressions of improvisation, resilience, creativity, and liberation, helping shape movements like the Harlem Renaissance in the early 20th century. During the Civil Rights Movement, freedom songs lifted spirits and united communities, while artists like Nina Simone and James Brown used music to inspire pride, courage, and action. That legacy continues today through hip-hop, rap, funk, soul, and other genres that speak openly about injustice, political representation, and the ongoing fight for equality and community empowerment.
Let’s celebrate the contributions that Black music has made to the well-being of our communities and for all Californians as we groove towards a future of healing and human connection. I hope we keep moving toward a more holistic way of caring for people—one that doesn’t try to fit everyone into the same mold, but instead listens, adapts, and honors each person’s unique needs, sensitivities, and limits.
So, let’s turn the music up and keep on moving!
Dr. Monica Soni, MD, is the Chief Medical Officer for Covered California, where she leads efforts in health equity, quality transformation, and clinical innovation. As a board-certified internal medicine physician and health care leader with over a decade of experience, Dr. Soni is committed to improving affordability, access, and health outcomes for all Californians.
Our connection to the California Black Health Network is rooted in alignment more than timeline. We were drawn to CBHN because of its unwavering commitment to advancing health equity for Black communities across California. As co-founders of BlackFULLness, our mission centers on supporting mental, emotional, and spiritual well-being, so finding a network that is actively shaping policy, advocacy, and community health outcomes felt like coming into community with people doing the work at every level. CBHN represents both action and accountability, and we wanted to be part of that ecosystem.
We are co-founders of BlackFULLness, a digital wellness platform designed to support the holistic well-being of Black communities.
Rev. Sonia brings a faith-centered and community-rooted approach to healing, grounded in spiritual leadership, care, and advocacy.
King David Walker approaches this work through the lens of behavioral science, storytelling, and what it means to model a non-toxic, emotionally aware version of Black masculinity.
Together, we bridge technology, spirituality, and culture to create spaces where Black people can access care, reflection, and restoration.
One of the biggest barriers is that care is often not designed with Black lived experiences at the center. There are systemic inequities in access, affordability, and representation, but there is also a deeper issue of trust. Many Black individuals have learned to navigate systems that have historically overlooked or harmed them, particularly in mental and emotional health spaces.
There is also a cultural gap—spaces that don’t always reflect our language, our rhythms, our spirituality, or our ways of processing stress and healing. Without culturally grounded approaches, even available resources can feel out of reach.
Health equity requires not just access, but relevance, dignity, and belonging.
Through BlackFULLness, we prioritize accessibility and cultural resonance. We create tools, content, and experiences that speak directly to the realities Black people face—especially around stress, identity, and navigating high-pressure environments.
We also emphasize preventative care—helping people build awareness, reflection, and emotional regulation before crisis points.
In alignment with CBHN’s broader advocacy, we see our role as both complementary and connective: supporting individuals at the personal level while contributing to a larger ecosystem that is pushing for systemic change.
Our goal is to make wellness feel both attainable and affirming.
We are inspired by the people we serve—the messages, the stories, the quiet confirmations that what we’re building is making a difference.
Rev. Sonia is deeply inspired by the calling to care for people’s spirits and to create spaces where healing is possible, even in the midst of life’s challenges.
King David is inspired by the vision of expanding what it means to be well, especially for Black men, and by the possibility of creating tools that help people move from survival into alignment.
At the core, we are both driven by a shared belief: that Black people deserve to feel whole, supported, and at peace.
What’s the bravest thing you’ve ever done?
The bravest thing we’ve done is choosing to build something that didn’t already exist in the way we knew it needed to.
Starting BlackFULLness required stepping into uncertainty, trusting our vision, and committing to a path without guarantees. It also required vulnerability—sharing our perspectives on wellness, identity, and healing in ways that challenge norms.
For both of us, bravery has meant saying yes to purpose, even when the outcome wasn’t clear.
What’s the best advice you’ve ever received?
“Take care of yourself so you can take care of others.”
That guidance has shaped both how we live and how we build. It reminds us that sustainability matters—that we cannot pour into community from a place of depletion.
It also reinforces the foundation of BlackFULLness: that wellness is not a luxury, but a necessity. When we prioritize our own mental, emotional, and spiritual health, we strengthen not just ourselves, but our families and our communities.
I have been a member of BHN for four months. I was drawn to BHN because I wanted to network with like-minded professionals.
I am the head of the Central Valley Black Men’s Health Consortium. My previous profession was Adjunct Professor, Project Manager, and Disadvantaged Business Coordinator.
The barriers I see here in the Central Valley are access to quality, black medical professionals.
My goal is to inform black men about health issues, give them appropriate information, and have subject-matter experts discuss health issues.
Good question! I truly think my work is needed, and that is what drives me.
Moving to California from Chicago without a support system. That was 26 years ago!
You are what you think about most of the time.
Global Communities, along with the Healthy Start San Bernardino and Healthy Start San Diego/Riverside programs, has been a member of the California Black Health Network (CBHN) for the past three years!
My goodness, I wear many hats in this season of my life! Currently, I serve as the Program Director for the Healthy Start San Bernardino Program. I am also a doula, with emphasis on NICU postpartum support, and a Lactation Education Specialist.
In addition, I am the founder of Mighty Little Giants, a nonprofit that supports NICU families, and I’m a student at Charles R. Drew University, pursuing my Master of Public Health in Urban Disparities.
From my perspective, one of the most significant barriers to care in California stems from the highly politicized and profit-driven nature of our healthcare system. Decisions around funding, access, and service delivery are often influenced more by policy agendas and financial priorities than by the actual needs of communities.
In addition, there are consistent disparities in access to high-quality care, particularly for marginalized populations. Communities that are already impacted by adverse social determinants of health, such as limited access to stable housing, nutritious food, reliable transportation, and economic opportunities, often face even greater challenges when trying to obtain timely and appropriate healthcare. These systemic inequities contribute directly to poorer health outcomes and widen existing gaps in care.
Global Communities is committed to helping every child get a strong start in life. Funded by the United States Health Resources and Services Administration (HRSA), Healthy Start expands access to perinatal care for parents in San Bernardino, San Diego, and Riverside Counties, particularly for those living in communities experiencing higher-than-average maternal and infant health risks. The Healthy Start program uses a personalized, parent-centered approach to strengthen family well-being and improve birth outcomes.
What inspires me is knowing that our stories have power, our feedback builds programs, and our families need us.
The bravest thing I’ve ever done occurred during my first pregnancy. My water broke at 21 weeks, after I had already advocated for myself seven times at the hospital. I was then placed on hospital bed rest for 58 days, and my son was born at 27 weeks and 6 days. He spent 143 days in the NICU, fighting for his life.
During that time, I became my own advocate and my son’s biggest champion. I educated myself on his condition, asked questions, spoke up, and remained strong in the face of uncertainty. Despite the fear, the exhaustion, and the emotional weight of it all, I held on and did not lose myself in the process.
My son’s journey, and the pain we endured, pushed me into my purpose. It gave me clarity and conviction, and I don’t take this work lightly. Saying yes to God’s calling on my life, especially through such a difficult season, has been the bravest thing I’ve ever done.
Today, my son is 12 years old and thriving, a living testament to resilience, faith, and purpose.
“When you change, they change—whether for better or worse.”
This advice was shared with me at my bridal shower before I got married, and it has stayed with me ever since. I’ve carried it in my heart across all of my relationships, friendships, family, my children, and my marriage. It reminds me that growth often requires personal accountability and the courage to shift first, even when it’s uncomfortable.
Leaning into this mindset has helped me establish healthy, necessary boundaries and, in many cases, positively shift the atmosphere around me.
I have been a member for roughly two years. I was drawn to CBHN’s dedication to serving the Black community and its efforts to educate and inform the community about policy agendas that impact health equity for Black Californians.
Community Research in Public Health and Social Work. As the Co-director of AAAE and Center Coordinator for CEHDR, I oversee programs/research projects, senior advisory committee, interns, PhD students, community partnerships, fundraising, grant management, professional trainings, public policy, advocacy, and direct practice through the AAAE online help center, as well as the day-to-day operations of the CEHDR.
A significant barrier is the lack of accountability measures for individuals in leadership positions whose practices continue to hinder progress.
I prioritize health equity through Justice-Oriented Community-Based Participatory Action Research, which advances social and environmental justice by tackling health inequities caused by environmental racism, harmful exposures, and social determinants of health. My work educates, collaborates, and advocates for healthier, more equitable communities through our programs and research projects powered by intentional and meaningful community partnerships such as CBHN.
I am inspired by the goal of leaving a legacy that will continue to grow and impact the community well beyond my own work.
I designed and operated a state-of-the-art facility for people living with Alzheimer’s and related dementias in the heart of the hood—South Los Angeles, named Mel’s Memory Care in honor of my dad, Melvin Gaines. This was one of the first state-licensed Residential Care Facilities for the Elderly (RCFE) with a full Dementia Plan of Operation in South Los Angeles.
"Keep your eye on the prize and let your work speak for itself." I also live by the 5 Ps (Proper Preparation Prevents Poor Performance) and the 3 Ps (Pause, Pivot, Proceed).
I’ve been a member of CBHN for 2 years. Yet, I have been a loyal follower, supporter, and believer since discovering CBHN during COVID-19.
I am an interdisciplinary theatre and performance artist. I am also the Visual Director of Theatre Roscius, a small non-profit experimental theatre and research company. Theatre Roscius creates new works that explore the emotional and inner lives of women, with a particular focus on Black women’s well-being.
Building and creating our own infrastructure and ecosystem that does not derive from a colonial framework. Investing in one another and taking big risks so we can get beyond relying on federal government and state funding.
Being able to create a theatre company in 2013 that gave me permission to focus on and tell stories about the mental health and well-being of Black women allowed me to give my energy and time to a non-profit in 2013. I have committed my life to telling stories about the mental health of Black women. The Black body has always been the primary vessel and portal of my work since 2012.
The belief that the future will be different and that what occurs in the present affects the frequency. Knowing a little Black girl in the future will find the work, and it will be of use to her in ways I could never imagine.
To keep going, while being my true, authentic self. In the face of adversity and in a time when being a follower is the norm. To be bold and stand in who I am has allowed me to walk into a work of service and storytelling that manifests beyond the formats already in existence.
“Everyone won’t like you, and you don’t need to be friends with everyone.” That has allowed me to be fearless and a force that can’t be reckoned with, even when people don’t want you to be who you are or succeed.
I became a member of the California Black Health Network last year. I was drawn to CBHN because it brings together Black leaders across disciplines who are committed to advancing health equity not just in theory, but in practice. CBHN’s focus on policy, systems change, and community‑rooted solutions aligned deeply with my own work and values—particularly the urgency of improving health outcomes for Black Californians amid shifting political, regulatory, and funding landscapes.
I am a surgeon‑scientist and health equity leader, currently serving as Vice President and Chief Health Access and Community Enrichment Officer at a comprehensive cancer center. My work sits at the intersection of clinical care, research, community engagement, and health systems transformation.
The barriers are layered and systemic. They include structural racism embedded in healthcare delivery and financing, lack of access to preventive and specialty care, underinvestment in community‑based organizations, and policies that fail to account for the lived realities of Black Californians. In healthcare specifically, fragmentation of care, workforce shortages, and limited access points—particularly outside of primary care—continue to perpetuate inequities across the cancer continuum and beyond.
In my work, I focus on redesigning access—meeting people where they are through community partnerships, expanding prevention and screening initiatives, and using data to identify and close inequity gaps. Through CBHN, I’m able to connect this institutional work to a broader statewide movement—learning from peers, contributing to shared strategies, and advocating for policies that center Black communities rather than treating equity as an afterthought.
What inspires me is the possibility of transformation—knowing that systems are designed by people, and therefore can be redesigned with intention. I’m inspired by the patients, families, and communities who continue to navigate inequitable systems with resilience, and by colleagues who are willing to push beyond incremental change to pursue real, lasting impact.
The bravest thing I’ve done is speak up—consistently and honestly—in rooms where inequities are uncomfortable to name. That includes challenging assumptions, naming structural barriers, and holding systems accountable, even when it would have been easier to stay silent. I’ve learned that progress rarely comes from comfort, and that courageous conversations are often the catalyst for meaningful change.
The best advice I’ve received is to stay grounded in purpose, not position. Titles change, strategies evolve, and systems resist—but when your work is rooted in clarity of purpose and service, it becomes easier to navigate complexity and stay committed to the long game of equity.
I have been a member since 2025. I was drawn to CBHN because I wanted to learn more about health care-related government processes, policies, and legislation that impact the Black and Brown communities so that I could be more intentional with my advocacy work.
I am a Senior Analyst Account Executive for a major healthcare company. I serve on the boards of several organizations and am a proud member of the Coalition of 100 Black Women Los Angeles Chapter.
There are so many. From access to fair, ethical, affordable, and trustworthy care to loss of life for those with mental, maternal, and infant health needs. Then add misconceptions, prejudices, money, and more.
I have been able to prioritize the health of Black Californians by creating space for uncomfortable conversations, taking time to share facts and information, and getting in the room with those who have the power to drive change.
We all have a story or experience that pushes us to do whatever we can to make even the slightest effort for better outcomes. For me, it started with navigating and advocating for my family members with their health issues. What an eye-opener!
Use my voice constructively and respectfully, without allowing the limitations, mediocrity, or power of others to diminish it.
You do not get to decide how much value your gifts have. Just give them wholeheartedly, and you will eventually learn just how much they are worth.
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