Texas Unvaccinated: Who They Are and Where They Live

There are ubiquitous recommendations to get the coronavirus vaccine, but Brad Offutt has decided to reject them.

The 53-year-old is a pain therapist in Marble Falls, a town of about 6,000 people in Burnet County, and says he wants the vaccine to be fully approved by the Food and Drug Administration rather than the current emergency permit. I did. Before he gets it. But still, Mr. Ooft said he was unlikely to do so because “I don’t personally feel threatened by COVID.”

Instead, he decided to “take the risk of getting a COVID.”

Coronavirus vaccines have been thoroughly tested and have proven to be safe and effective. With over 340 million doses in the United States, side effects are extremely rare and risk of infection with COVID-19, which currently killed more than 52,000 Texas people, by FDA-independent researchers. It is judged to be much less than. August 2.

Public health experts say that vaccination of as many people as possible is the best and fastest way to end a pandemic — but Offutt’s hesitation is common. He is one of 14 million Texas as of August 1st and remains unvaccinated about eight months after the first batch of vaccine was first deployed.

Many unvaccinated children are children who are not eligible to receive shots. About 5 million Texas people are under the age of 12. However, 83% of Texas people, or 24 million residents, are still eligible for the vaccine. As of August 1, there are 15 million Texas people who have been vaccinated at least once, leaving 9 million eligible Texas people who have not yet been vaccinated.

This puts the state’s immunization rate at 36th place in the country, helping to drive another nasty wave of pandemics. COVID hospitalizations in Texas quadrupled in July. According to state preliminary data, more than 99.5% of people who died from COVID-19 in Texas from February 8 to July 14 were unvaccinated. The proportion of fully vaccinated residents went from 3% to 42% during that period.

The Texas Tribune has analyzed the demographic and geographical trends of Texas people who have not yet taken shots. Some of the main findings are shown below.

• In Texas’ largest counties (Harris, Dallas, Tarant, Bexer, Travis), the regions with the highest proportions of blacks and Hispanics are some of the regions with the lowest vaccinations.
• Even in areas where the median income is below the median income of the county, vaccination rates are lower than those of the county.
• Rural counties are consistently lagging behind the state’s complete vaccination rate.

Offutt lives along Lake Marble Falls with his wife, Dr. Amy Offutt, an integrative medicine doctor who chooses not to be vaccinated. He said there was enough space so you don’t have to worry about being in a large crowd that is likely to be exposed to the virus.

Marble Falls is a conservative base. 76% of voters voted for Trump in 2020. The city is part of Burnet County and 40% of its inhabitants are fully vaccinated. This is well below about 56% of both neighboring Travis and Williamson counties.

“It’s important whether you live in a densely populated city or a less populated city. Most of what we do is outdoors,” says Brad Offutt.

The data show that it is not always true. Throughout Texas, the counties with the highest case rates are outside the city

Still, Dr. David Lakey, Chief Medical Officer at the University of Texas System, said offutt-like attitudes are common among white conservative rural people. According to Tribune’s analysis, 33% of people in rural or non-metropolitan counties are fully vaccinated as of August 1, less than 44% of the state.

In the state’s largest cities, the story is different. Immunization rates are high in metropolitan areas, but tend to be much lower in poorer urban areas and areas with high numbers of people of color. Overall, Black and Hispanic Texas have the lowest vaccination coverage of any racial group across the state, at 28% and 35%, respectively.

“In regions like Houston, Dallas, and Austin, overall rates may look good, but there can be significant differences and disparities between zip codes,” Lakey said. “… one part of the town can be very different from another part of the town.”

For example, in Dallas County, as of July 26, 58% of neighbors, who are mostly white, have been fully vaccinated. These rates are well above those in the neighborhood where the majority are black and 37% Hispanic are vaccinated.

Vaccination rates in East Texas are “more aging, more African-American, and more conservative Caucasian, so they’re more likely than the rest of the state,” Lakey said. Is also late. ” More rural areas. “

Why are they not vaccinated?

According to Lakey, distrust is a major cause of vaccine repellent, and the core of distrust usually depends on human culture.

Hesitation against white conservatives depends on “distrust of the government,” but for Hispanics and black residents, there are often generations of disparities in the American system, and “trust in the health system.” “Lack”, he said.

“For those who have little experience interacting with the healthcare system (perhaps those who don’t have a primary care physician), this kind of experience is new and can raise further questions when we start talking about vaccines,” Prism said. Dr. John Carlo, CEO of Health North Texas, said.

He hopes less people will hesitate about the vaccine, but adds that he understands the uncertainty.

“I think the big thing I can say is that people often don’t completely oppose this, so I have to keep asking where they are about this,” Carlo said. “There are protracted concerns and I can probably answer the question.”

Austin-based 40-year-old Alma Penha distrusted the coronavirus vaccine when it first went on sale and resisted getting it throughout the spring.

“I was worried that something would happen when I was vaccinated,” she said in Spanish.

However, due to the recent surge in cases and hospitalizations, unvaccinated has become more frightening than the potential side effects of Shot against Penha. She was a house cleaner and flew from house to house most days, so she set her anxiety aside and rolled up her sleeves in July.

“I’m afraid,” Penha said.

She took shots in early July through the Vaccine Management Mobile Operations (VAMOS) at the University of Texas School of Nursing. It strives to vaccinate vulnerable populations in Austin. She went to one of their weekly clinics held in the parking lot of the first Spanish Seventh-day Adventist Church in the immediate vicinity of her home.

She took her first dose at the same church on July 21st with her 13-year-old son Joseph. He was about to start grade 7 in August.

According to Carlo, the way to convince more families like Penas to get vaccinated is to “make sure you have one message with many voices.”

According to a Tribune analysis, the full vaccination rate for all but one of the six zip codes in Travis County, where Hispanics make up more than half of the population, is lower than 56% in the county.

Gap can also be seen when comparing neighborhoods by median income. Of the 14 zip codes whose median income is lower than the county’s zip code, 10 are below the county-wide complete vaccination rate. Of the 20 Travis County zip codes whose income is above the county median, only four are below the county tax rate.

Anatod, director of the VAMOS clinic shot by Joseph, said the lack of easy access to health care and transportation was also a major reason why some black and Hispanic residents were not vaccinated. rice field. But above all, “distrust is one of the biggest reasons,” she said, looking away from the shots.

Todd said efforts to take time to meet and talk with residents are essential to improving the relationship between Austin’s Hispanic and black communities and the healthcare system. And that’s why the organization hosts a clinic in a local church.

“People trust the church,” Todd said.

From May to every Wednesday, VAMOS will partner with Central Texas Food Bank to also make a weekly food drive at First Spanish Church an immunization clinic. Some food bank patrons stop by because they don’t know about vaccine clinics. While they wait in line to pick up food, VAMOS volunteers ask them if they want to be vaccinated.

From time to time, Todd said hesitant residents would decline. But they will be back the next week, and she asks them again if they want to consider vaccination. That was the case a few months ago when my mother and daughter were in line for a food drive. When Todd asked the duo if he wanted to vaccinate, the mother immediately declined, but the daughter said, “let me think.”

Todd continued to talk to his daughter about the importance of the vaccine, and she finally agreed to get an injection. After seeing her daughter vaccinated, the mother told Todd that it would take a week for her to consider vaccination as well.

“We have consistently worked to build trust,” Todd said. “And more importantly, we asked why they didn’t want to be vaccinated and why they didn’t.”

She is a Venezuelans and added that treating the majority of Hispanic areas helps build trust with the population.

“When someone tells me’Dios me va a proteger’, I understand —’God will protect me,'” Todd said. “So they gave me that. When I say, I know the context. I know how to guide the conversation and talk about how the tools to take care of them were given … and it framing the conversation. And it’s about people and patients. “

Dr. Lane Ayena, director of the COVID-19 medical response team in Walker County, said he has a similar approach to convince his local community to be vaccinated: paired with his patient. Have a conversation.

“I’m dissatisfied with the situation, but I have to be very careful that I’m not dissatisfied with people,” said Ayena, a doctor at Huntsville. “No one is a vaccine evader just because I woke up one morning and decided not to take this shot. They asked something somewhere. They had a reason to hesitate and I told them. I’m asking you to put something in their body, and they have the right to want to know about it. “

Methodological notes:

High-income and low-income zip codes are defined as zip codes whose median income is above or below the median of the county, after considering margins of error. If more than half of the residents belonged to that demographic group after considering the margin of error, the zip code was included in the majority of the demographics. Income and racial demographic data was obtained from the 2019 US Census Bureau’s American Community Survey.

Disclosure: The University of Texas System is a financial supporter of Texas Tribune, a non-profit, non-partisan news agency partially funded by donations from members, foundations and corporate sponsors. Financial supporters play no role in tribune journalism.Find a complete list of them here..