What I’m learning from MAHA
And why public health needs to catch up with the curiosity-driven movement
About a month ago, a few of us in public health began meeting with members of the grassroots advocacy group Make America Healthy Again (MAHA). I shared some initial reflections, and our conversation aired on the podcast Why Should I Trust You. It went viral, sparked by an immense wave of curiosity—people wanted to understand what it looks like when two seemingly opposing sides sit down and actually talk.
I’m happy to report that we’ve continued exchanging emails and texts, met again, and even planned more conversations to expand our circle. And… we still haven’t killed each other!
That might not sound like much, but in today’s polarized climate, it feels like progress. Honestly, it’s given me more hope than I’ve felt in a long time.
We’ve tackled some hard topics: vaccines, mistrust, government overreach, scientific credibility. On our side, the damage is real. On theirs, the opportunity of the current landscape is exciting. What’s kept us at the table isn’t agreement but a shared curiosity, some common ground, and a growing recognition that we each have something to learn from the other.
Here’s what I’ve taken from these conversations over the past month—about communication, community, and trust—and what I hope they’ve taken from us, too.
But first, a note to fellow health professionals
One of the hardest parts of engaging with MAHA hasn’t been the conversations themselves. To me, it’s the anticipation of backlash from within my field. The quiet fear of a thousand paper cuts. So before this post circulates more widely, I want to make an important distinction. One that I think many of us are struggling to see clearly:
There’s a real difference between the leadership of MAHA, like RFK Jr., and the grassroots supporters drawn to the movement.
I don’t believe RFK Jr. is acting in good faith. His record is riddled with contradictions and falsehoods. His tactics often erode trust under the guise of restoring it. Treating him as a serious partner would be a mistake.
But many people who support MAHA at the grassroots level are asking real, good-faith questions. They’re responding to gaps and failures that public health professionals recognize, too.
If we fail to see that difference, we risk further alienating those who already feel unheard. We confirm the very narrative they’ve been fed: that the health ecosystem doesn’t listen, doesn’t care, and paints all its critics with the same brush.
There’s meaningful common ground to build on—clean food, chronic illness, safe schools, and air quality. That’s a good place to start.
What I’ve learned so far
Over the past month, I’ve learned a LOT! Here are three key lessons from these conversations.
1. Trusted messengers and co-developing is the name of the game
A recurring theme in our conversations was this: “Communication just doesn’t reach us.” At first, I didn’t buy it. There’s no shortage of information online. But the more I listened, the clearer it became: information being available is not the same as being accessible, understandable, or shared by or within their trusted networks.
They mainly get information from long-form podcasts, like Joe Rogan’s, and rarely see evidence-based information on social media—which I think is largely due to algorithms, because it’s there!
So I followed up. I sent one of MAHA’s leaders a plain-language vaccine FAQ that the YLE team and Yale created in November 2024. It’s been downloaded 50,000 times—but I hadn’t heard much from folks who weren’t already in our corner.
She responded almost immediately. Her feedback was kind, sharp, and incredibly constructive.
Here’s what I learned:
Nuance matters. She appreciated that the FAQ wasn’t trying to convince anyone. It didn’t oversimplify. It acknowledged uncertainty and gave people room to make their own informed decisions.
Context builds trust. The original version included over 100 studies—but only as a bibliography. She suggested including one sentence per study summarizing what was found and why it matters.
Access is empowerment. She asked for clickable links to the studies. A small fix, but one that increased transparency and usability.
Respect different realities. Her biggest suggestion was adding a question: If someone can’t—or won’t—vaccinate, what else can they do to protect their family? It reminded me to meet people where they are, not where we wish they were.
The YLE team implemented every change she suggested. (It took a lot of work!) I sent the revised FAQ back as a thank you.
And without being asked, she shared it with her network.
You can read the updated version here:
This not only highlights the need to co-develop but also to partner with trusted messengers in established information networks, as there are clearly echo chambers.
2. Autonomy comes first
A MAHA member brought up RFK Jr.’s now-infamous quote in a follow-up meeting: “People shouldn’t take my medical advice.”
To those of us in public health, that’s deeply frustrating. Sure, you shouldn’t get your rash checked out by a politician, but it signaled something else: the burden of medical decision-making is entirely on individuals. It tells people: diagnose yourself, verify your doctor’s guidance, interpret the vaccine schedule, and sort fact from fiction. Alone. Most Americans don’t have the time, training, or tools to do that. And they shouldn’t have to. That’s why we build public systems and scientific consensus. Just like I rely on a mechanic to fix my car, we should be able to rely on public health experts to interpret the science.
But MAHA members heard something different. RFK’s comment affirmed their autonomy. It signaled that they can make decisions for themselves and their families, even if those decisions go against expert consensus.
This is where public health can and must step in: not by taking away that autonomy, but by supporting it. We can build tools that help people explore the evidence, understand it, and weigh it for themselves.
This led the conversation down a difficult path. One public health colleague said, “Sure, do what you need to do, but please don’t kill someone else.”
That didn’t land well, and one MAHA person said, “Just saying that will lose so much ground [in trust].” I understand why. MAHA members do care deeply about protecting their families and those around them. Assuming that they don’t, doesn’t help. But for them, autonomy still comes first.
Here’s where I hope the learning flows both ways: Autonomy matters. But so does community. Public health isn’t about either/or. It’s about both. It’s about protecting individuals and protecting each other through collective action.
3. Public health is not Big Pharma
Many MAHA members are incredibly skeptical of the entire medical-industrial complex, especially Big Pharma. I, too, am very skeptical about their role thus far in the health ecosystem of the U.S.
But this is where we need to be louder and clearer: public health is not Big Pharma, Big Food, or Big Insurance. It doesn’t profit but rather protects.
There seems to be a genuine misunderstanding of this separation from MAHA. So, when scientists speak up for vaccines, it can sound like defending the industry in their eyes, which erodes trust with this group.
Public health has flaws (bureaucracy, underfunding, and clumsy communication, to name a few), but the mission is fundamentally different. And that distinction matters. Some in MAHA are starting to see that. One member recently said: “We have to stop they-ing you.” That stuck with me.
In public health, we need to do a better job educating people on what we do and who we are and honestly voice our general frustration with the systems, too. What are our solutions to the industry-captured health ecosystem?
Bottom line
Over the past five years, I’ve learned a lot about what makes public health communication work: the value of nuance, the power of trusted messengers, the importance of meeting people where they are, and the creativity needed to develop two-way streets.
But this past month, MAHA taught me something new: Curiosity can be a bridge.
Even when shaped by different lived experiences and priorities, curiosity creates a space to begin. If we’re willing to sit with discomfort, ask better questions, and truly listen, we can rethink how public health works—and who it serves.
I look forward to continuing to learn. I also hope they continue to discover what public health offers—as an institution and as a partner in helping individuals and communities thrive.
Love,
YLE
P.S. Check out the latest MAHA+public health leader meeting recorded and aired on the Why Should I Trust You podcast.
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 380,000 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:
This post is just one of the reasons I subscribe. When I was a paramedic I met patients literally where they were. As a PA, I try to do the same as it was taught to me by my mentor.
You can’t physically stop a patient from making what you believe to be a bad decision. I agree that all you can do is have empathy, provide the most factual information you can and discuss the risk.
Keep the conversation going, it’s one of the ways society learns.
I'm curious to know, have any of the MAHA you've been working with shared with you what they in turn have learned from you and your colleagues?