Americans are spending more and more time alone, and more than a third reported experiencing “serious loneliness" in 2021. The director of the Harvard Study of Adult Development -- the longest study of human life ever conducted -- concluded in a new book that close personal relationships are the "one crucial factor [that] stands out for the consistency and power of its ties to physical health, mental health and longevity." A lack of those relationships can actually have an impact on political behavior and interest in extreme ideologies. In this installment of the FiveThirtyEight Politics podcast, Galen Druke speaks with the director of the Harvard study, Robert Waldinger, about the lessons his findings have for politics in America.
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The Momnibus Act was previously known as the Black Maternal Health Momnibus Act, but the word 'Black' has been removed from the title and appears only once across the latest package.
Emily Scherer for The 19th
The Word ‘Black’ Has Disappeared From a Set of Bills Aimed at Addressing Black Maternal Health
Jun 01, 2026
The word “Black” has been almost completely removed from a package of bills that have long been viewed as Congress’ main legislative vehicle to address the Black maternal health crisis, frustrating some advocates who feel Black women are being erased from the policy.
The key change this year is the title. The Momnibus Act — filed in mid-March — was called the Black Maternal Health Momnibus Act in 2023; before that it was the Black Maternal Health Momnibus Act of 2021 and the Black Maternal Health Momnibus Act of 2020. None of the previous packages, which were championed by Democrats, have been enacted.
But references to “Black” in the package’s legislative text have also evolved. The 2020 version has more than a dozen, primarily referencing Black women. In the 2021 version, many of those were replaced with nearly a dozen references to “Black pregnant and postpartum individuals.” All those descriptions were removed in the 2023 bill, with the word Black appearing only once across the entire package, referencing a historically Black college or university or other minority-serving institution. Those 2023 changes carried over to the latest version.
The legislation — which does not appear to have a path forward in the Republican-controlled Congress — has long been touted as a way to address the United States’ abysmal maternal health mortality rates, as well as the stark disparities for Black women. Maternal mortality rates in the United States surpass all other developed nations. In 2023, there were 18.6 maternal deaths for every 100,000 live births in the nation. The rate is far worse for Black women at 50.3; they are three times more likely to die than White women from a pregnancy-related cause, irrespective of income or education.
But removing “Black” from the title of the bill comes as the Trump administration attacks initiatives aimed at diversity, equity and inclusion. Advocates worry that the title change is both a signal that racial disparities shouldn’t be at the forefront of discussion — and a warning sign that they won’t be addressed.
Democratic Rep. Lauren Underwood of Illinois, a lead sponsor of the Momnibus package, said the title change reflected how people describe the legislation, which this year covers everything from the perinatal workforce to research investments.
“When people are like, ‘What’s going on with the Momnibus? Has the Momnibus passed? I’m looking for information on the Momnibus,’ or whatever — this reflects that,” said the congresswoman, who emphasized that the bill continues to help Black women. She also highlighted that the Black Maternal Health Caucus that she helps oversee has secured hundreds of millions of dollars for maternal health policies that center Black women.
Rep. Lauren Underwood, a lead sponsor of the Momnibus package, said the title change reflects how people commonly refer to the legislation and emphasized that the bill continues to help Black women. (Samuel Corum/Getty Images)
For some, the changes and the explanation behind it are more complicated. The 19th spoke with leaders of more than a half dozen groups that work to improve Black maternal health, many who have not spoken publicly about this.
“There is a painful irony in a bill that originated as the Black Maternal Health Momnibus Act, that was named to address the Black maternal health crisis, no longer naming the population it was created to serve,” Angela D. Aina, cofounder and executive director of the Black Mamas Matter Alliance (BMMA), said in a statement. The group is not publicly supporting the Momnibus package this year but has in past years.
Several advocates also said they’re frustrated but still support Underwood, a Black woman who often speaks about Black maternal health through a personal lens. When the bill was reintroduced, Aza Nedhari, president and CEO of Mamatoto Village, which supports Black maternal health policies, frankly detailed her thoughts on the changes in a LinkedIn post. Yet she understands that there are lots of forces at play.
“I do think that Congresswoman Underwood genuinely cares about this issue,” Nedhari told The 19th. “She’s been working on this for so long. I think we need to put the focus on where it needs to be: Why does she even have to make this choice in the first place?”
A spokesperson for Underwood said removing the word Black from most of the legislation in 2023 was due to technical edits related to the Kira Johnson Act, a bill in the Momnibus package named after a Black woman who died in 2016 in the hours after childbirth. The legislation encourages investments in community-based organizations that support mothers.
Though it has not been enacted, aspects of the bill have been implemented through congressional funding directed to the Office of Minority Health under the Department of Health and Human Services. These appropriations, first approved under the Biden administration, total more than $30 million to date. Underwood’s spokesperson said removing the word Black in 2023 aligned the legislative text with language used by the Office of Minority Health to avoid future regulatory hiccups under existing regulations.
Some of the references to Black people were replaced with “demographic groups with elevated rates of maternal mortality, severe maternal morbidity, maternal health disparities, or other adverse perinatal or childbirth outcomes.” The latest bill also links to a formal definition for “racial and ethnic minority groups” that includes Black people.
“The definitions in the bill are designed to make sure that the money can get to the communities that need it,” Underwood told The 19th, who emphasized the substance of the bill has not changed and has been expanded to encourage more research funding.
The bill retains language aimed at addressing data collection of Hispanic people and has provisions acknowledging Indigenous populations.
“BMMA supports those provisions and the communities they serve, and we recognize the importance of that specificity. The asymmetry is what gave us pause,” Aina said.
Several organizers told The 19th they raised their concerns about the bill’s title and text changes privately to Underwood.
At least some advocates were aware of the 2023 changes at the time but supported the legislation because of the political and social climate under President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris, both vocal supporters of Black maternal health policies.
But since then, President Donald Trump has targeted the Office of Minority Health for elimination amid efforts aimed at dismantling diversity, equity and inclusion.
When asked if the bill’s title change is related to the political climate, Underwood responded: “The Momnibus does talk about the Black maternal health crisis. So it is not accurate to say that the Momnibus has removed references to Black and it doesn’t aim to address the Black maternal health crisis.”
Underwood’s explanation — which doesn’t appear to acknowledge the text changes — is unsettling for Nourbese Flint, president of All* Above All, a national organization that supports reproductive justice by expanding abortion access. Flint’s organization is weighing whether to support the legislation this year.
“It suggests that there’s something wrong with it being about Black women,” she said. “I think that is the piece that I am really concerned about, is that there’s nothing wrong with having a bill that is trying to close the gap for Black women dying.”
Underwood reiterated that the Momnibus legislation is the signature bill from the Black Maternal Health Caucus, which she has co-chaired since its launch in 2019. The Momnibus package also still has the support of hundreds of groups, companies and affiliations.
“Our number one singular priority is advancing the Momnibus, period,” she said. “That has not changed. That has always been the case.”
The National Partnership for Women & Families, which advocates for policies that improve maternal health and tracks state-level Momnibus efforts, is among the groups no longer supporting the legislation.
“The National Partnership for Women & Families firmly believes that the need to address the Black maternal health crisis is urgent and that the commitment to addressing this crisis effectively begins with clearly naming the problem,” Jocelyn Frye, president of the group, said in a statement. “At a time when this administration too often refuses to confront the prevalence of racial disparities — and in some cases denying they exist altogether — it is more important than ever to center those most affected.”
Jamila K. Taylor is president and CEO at the Institute for Women’s Policy Research, a national think tank that examines gender and racial inequities from an economic lens. The group has endorsed the Momnibus in the past but has not this year — but it is supporting some of the individual bills that make up the package.
“We are in the midst of a fraught social and political moment as a nation. People of color, and Black women in particular, are facing diminished political power, disproportionate job loss, and poorer health outcomes — including higher maternal death rates than their White peers,” Taylor said in a statement to The 19th. “It is more important than ever to center the needs of Black women in the policy solutions to address racial biases and injustices.”
Frye and Taylor said separately that they hope to keep working with Underwood and other members of Congress to make progress on Black maternal health issues.
Underwood declined to comment on the views of advocates or private concerns in a follow-up inquiry to her office.
Trump’s attacks on DEI have had a ripple effect across corporations, research grants and college campuses. Recent federal cuts to Medicaid, which accounts for 40 percent of all live births and 65 percent of births to Black mothers, are expected to worsen health outcomes for pregnant and postpartum people.
It’s part of why changes to the bill may be so concerning for some advocates, said Deva Woodly, a professor at Brown University who studies the impact of public discourse on social and economic issues. She said the changes — even if some predate Trump’s return to office — could lessen the efficacy of the bills if they’re passed.
“There is no race-neutral way to address Black maternal mortality. It has to be addressed honestly and unabashedly, and trying to address it in a way that does not name the subject is going to be inefficacious,” she said. “Because if you leave the language cloudy, then it can be misapprehended and deliberately misused by whomever is in power and enforcing the law.”
Woodly offered a hypothetical scenario in which a women’s health bill makes its way through Congress over several years but references to women are gradually taken out.
“The health bill that doesn’t name women cannot address women’s health,” she said. “The Black maternal health bill that does not name Black women cannot address Black maternal health.”
Elizabeth Dawes, director of maternal and reproductive health at The Century Foundation, a progressive think tank, called the shift in language “demoralizing” and “disheartening” — a reinforcement for her that Congress is not working enough to address the concerns of Black women like herself. She worries it sets a bad precedent for grassroots advocacy.
“When we’re thinking about the future of how we advocate for change, and what that means and what that looks like, it would reshape that for us to be vague about our ask, for us to be general,” said Dawes, another cofounder of BMMA who is no longer affiliated with the group and now helps lead the Black Maternal Health Federal Policy Collective. “I think we’ve seen enough of how general conversations go. I think they go nowhere.”
That tension was on display during a congressional hearing on April 17 when Rep. Summer Lee, a Democrat from Pennsylvania, questioned Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. about reports that the department told organizations applying for federal dollars to remove nearly 200 words, including Black, from funding applications.
“How are we going to solve the Black maternal mortality crisis if we cannot say ‘Black’?” she asked Kennedy.
Lee told The 19th in an interview after that exchange that she had not noticed the title change on the Momnibus bill, which she supports as a co-sponsor.
At an April congressional hearing, Rep. Summer Lee questioned Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. about reports that organizations applying for federal dollars had been told to remove words including ‘Black’ from funding applications. (ALLISON BAILEY/NURPHOTO/AP)“I’m not shocked,” she said. “We’ve seen a lot of people shifting not their priorities but how they word it preemptively in a lot of instances, because they’re afraid that if they are forward with their mission, that their organization, that their program is geared toward addressing a particular issue that they think falls within diversity, equity or inclusion, that they will no longer be able to receive the funding.”
Lee’s office later declined to further comment on Underwood’s explanation for the title change.
The office of Democratic Rep. Alma Adams of North Carolina, one of the lead sponsors of the bill, did not respond to multiple requests for comment. Suzy Vazquez, a spokesperson for Democratic Sen. Cory Booker of New Jersey, the bill’s main sponsor in the Senate, said: “When Senator Booker speaks about this issue and this legislation it is in the context of the maternal health care crisis facing the Black community. His purpose and priority is ending disparities in maternal health and advancing policies that improve outcomes for Black moms and their families by standing up in Congress to ensure no mother is left behind.”
Nedhari had a response to that statement: “This issue is not whether or not people genuinely care. It’s about the level of courage that you are willing to have in this moment — to name that this is for who it’s for.”
Underwood, who has a background in nursing, speaks often about the intersection of disparate maternal health outcomes and Black women. She participates in multiple events focused on Black maternal health, most recently during Black Maternal Health Week in mid-April. She told The 19th that she is continuing to consolidate support for the package and is having conversations “with colleagues on both sides of the aisle about the priorities.”
“There’s always opportunities to advance one or more bills through the committee process, and we’ve been pursuing those opportunities aggressively,” she said. She declined to specify which bills.
Amid the federal stalemate, Black women have taken action on the state level to address racial maternal health disparities — including state-level Momnibus bills, Medicaid postpartum coverage extensions, doula reimbursement and the establishment of maternal mortality review committees with community representation.
Dawes added that many of the efforts to address racial maternal health disparities are led by Black women and they’re not waiting around for Congress to act.
“We’re going to fight for Black moms no matter what. We’re going to get them the care they need no matter what. So if Congress isn’t going to do it, let’s see what can happen in the states. If the states aren’t going to do it, let’s see what happens at the city and county level,” she said. “But I believe Congress has the responsibility to do something, and that something needs to be wholehearted. It needs to be comprehensive, it needs to be thorough, and it needs to be bold enough to name Black women, to name the people who it’s trying to support.”
The Word ‘Black’ Has Disappeared From a Set of Bills Aimed at Addressing Black Maternal Health was originally published by The 19th and is republished with permission.
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U.S. President Donald Trump on May 22, 2026 in Suffern, New York.
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Trump Never Intended To Be Just
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Let us set aside, for a moment, the fact that in suing the IRS, Donald Trump initiated a lawsuit that was meritless, frivolous, and a blatant conflict of interest…in his own words, “I am supposed to work out a settlement with myself.” Let us further acknowledge, but look past the fact, that the settlement is filled with “illegal cookies” like his effort to exempt himself and his family members or family-controlled companies, from past or future IRS audits or any future obligations to ever pay federal taxes.
Please appreciate, but set aside for a moment, that this is the most corrupt administration in modern US history. Further, I would like to ignore the fact that this appears to be an effort to finance a private militia that has violently sought to undermine the US Government and the electoral capacity of the vote of the people of the United States of America.
I would like to focus on the ill-conceived notion that the perpetrators of the January 6 assault on the US Capitol were victims of “weaponization and lawfare” by the Department of Justice.
It was the Biden Department of Justice that initiated the prosecution of the government contractor who was convicted of leaking President Trump's tax returns. Notwithstanding that, every other president since Watergate has voluntarily disclosed their returns, and Donald Trump, as a candidate, vowed to release his returns upon completion of his audit.
Conversely, the January 6 rioters, several of whom attacked Capitol Police officers and members of the District of Columbia police, were duly arrested, tried, and either convicted or pleaded guilty to actual crimes before they were pardoned or granted clemency by the president. It is now the claim of the president that they should be entitled to compensation because, in the view of the president and the attorney general, “they were targeted for political, personal or ideological reasons.”
The cruel and debased hypocrisy of this malfeasance is contrasted by the intentional aggressive and illegal weaponization by the Department of Justice and the US Immigration and Customs Enforcement which have engaged in widespread human rights violations including, but not limited to, abusive treatment, cruel and unusual punishment in detention facilities, failure to provide adequate medical care in detention centers, illegal detention, denial of due process, illegal deportations, family separations, multiple deaths and para-military assaults in US cities such as Chicago, Portland, Minneapolis and Los Angeles.
It is worth noting that the Constitution of the United States entitles all persons the right to “be secure in their persons, houses…against unreasonable searches and seizures…and no warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause…(Fourth Amendment)
And further No Person shall be held to answer for…infamous crime …nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law…(Fifth Amendment) and:
In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial…and have the Assistance of Counsel for his defense. (Sixth Amendment).
What is clear is that the Constitution plainly distinguishes between citizens and persons. Further, all persons are entitled to fundamental constitutional protections. Yet the Trump Administration has called for the deportation of both legal and illegal immigrants who have never been charged with crimes, people under Temporary Protected Status, green card applicants, green card holders, as well as suggesting that he would denaturalize naturalized citizens and revoke citizenship from naturally born US Citizens.
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Empathy has never been one of the President’s strong suits. Cruelty has been a fairly consistent trait. So, he has a perverse perspective on the rule of law. Trump whines when he and his few friends do not get their way. Justice for all has never been his mantra. Advantage for him at others' expense has always been his goal.
We have not seen a president with such a blatant proclivity for utilizing the levers of government primarily to achieve personal wealth and vengeance against not only his enemies, but classes of people who he considers to be an inconvenience to have live in the United States. In England during the Windrush era, the British Prime Minister Theresa May specifically developed what she referred to as a “hostile environment policy”. It is an appropriate description of Trump’s actual intent.
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The Fragile Promise of the Ballot
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Recent Supreme Court decisions such as Shelby County v. Holder and Brnovich v. Democratic National Committee were not just redefinitions of election law; they marked a critical shift away from the federal government’s duty to ensure equal ballot access—a duty fundamental to democracy.
The consequences were swift and broad. Within hours, Shelby County, Texas, imposed strict voter ID rules that federal officials had previously blocked under the Voting Rights Act’s pre-clearance provisions. Soon after, North Carolina reduced early voting and eliminated same-day registration. Across parts of Alabama, Georgia, and other Southern states, polling places closed or moved, often in communities with large Black populations. What once required federal review could now proceed quickly.
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The significance of these decisions lies not only in their immediate effects but also in what they reveal: The Supreme Court is narrowing the national commitment to protecting democratic participation. Where the Voting Rights Act once embodied active federal defense of democracy, the Court now treats voting inequities as isolated technicalities, underestimating their systemic impact.
This shift was particularly evident when Section 5 of the Voting Rights Act was effectively dismantled in Shelby County. I am old enough to remember the national optimism surrounding America’s supposed racial progress. At that time, many declared the country had moved beyond the conditions that made federal oversight necessary. Yet history moved faster than that narrative. Almost immediately, legislatures introduced new voting restrictions, revised district maps, and narrowed pathways to participation.
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History suggests such moments of regression are never permanent. From Dred Scott v. Sandford to the era of poll taxes and literacy tests, institutions have often lagged behind the nation’s democratic aspirations. Progress has depended less on judicial inevitability than on sustained civic pressure from ordinary citizens insisting the Constitution apply to them fully.
That pressure continues. Voting-rights groups stay in courtrooms and statehouses. Grassroots organizers keep registering voters in communities long targeted for exclusion. Citizens still wait in long lines, believing participation matters—even when systems seem designed to exhaust their faith.
The Supreme Court may interpret the law, but it cannot alone answer the central democratic question: Who is entitled to full participation in American public life? That question persists—and history suggests it will always depend on both judicial action and citizens resolutely defending democracy’s unfinished promise against new forms of exclusion.
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From Advocacy to Action: How Jacksonville Residents Are Shaping River Policy
May 31, 2026
JACKSONVILLE, Florida — The St. Johns River is more than a body of water in Jacksonville — it’s a memory keeper. It carries the stories of shrimpers and shipbuilders, of families who grew up fishing from wooden docks, of neighborhoods shaped by tides and storms. It is the quiet force that binds the city’s past to its future. But the river is also a mirror. It reflects the inequities, pressures, and possibilities of the communities along its banks. And in Jacksonville, a growing coalition of residents and organizations is stepping forward to protect it — not just as an ecosystem, but as a shared civic inheritance.
- YouTube youtu.be
The river faces a familiar but urgent list of threats: polluted runoff, wetland loss, industrial expansion, and climate‑driven flooding. For decades, these challenges were treated as technical problems — issues for scientists, regulators, and agencies. But in Jacksonville’s neighborhoods, the river’s decline has never been abstract. Floodwaters rise into yards. Storm drains back up. Trash collects in creeks. Fish kills appear after summer storms. Residents see the river’s health in real time, and they feel its consequences. That lived experience is reshaping who leads the fight for the river.
"So to me, the river is home," said Soraya Aidinejad, the Ecological Science Director for St. Johns Riverkeeper. "There's like this peaceful aspect to being on the river or just seeing the river." When Aidinejad stands on the riverbank, she doesn’t think about data first — she draws from a lifelong connection to the Jacksonville community, reflecting on the profound personal significance of the local waterway: The fisherman who can’t cast where he used to. The grandmother whose street floods every king tide. The students who learn that their river is both beautiful and vulnerable. Riverkeeper’s work blends science with civic action: monitoring water quality, challenging harmful development, educating neighborhoods, and mobilizing volunteers. Their message is simple: the river belongs to everyone, and everyone has a role in protecting it.
Local Initiatives Support Corporation (LISC) is known nationally for housing and economic development, but in Jacksonville, its work increasingly intersects with environmental resilience. In neighborhoods along the Trout River and Ribault River, LISC helps residents secure funding for stormwater improvements, build green infrastructure, and lead their own planning processes. LISC’s approach reframes environmental protection as a justice issue. Flooding, pollution, and poor drainage don’t hit every neighborhood equally — and LISC helps communities organize to change that.
Kristopher Smith. LISC's Senior Community Development Program Officer explains how work brings him into constant conversation with residents whose ties to the Ribault and Trout River corridors stretch back generations. He sees the river not just as an environmental asset, but as a cultural one — a place where identity, memory, and resilience meet. "In the Ribault area, a neighborhood of historic African Americans and folks who have lived in legacy neighborhoods like Sherwood Forest, you've got Harborview, Lake Forest, and Ribault, and they have been living there over decades," Smith said. "These are places where folks have built homes, sent their kids to school, and had opportunities to build a relationship with the waterway. The waterway has been one for active community events, and for fishing, boating, and, in recent times, the St. Johns River dredging has caused some concern in the Ribault River tributary, and that's been raised because of the quality of the water. So what we're looking to do is understand the water quality and what can be done to improve it so the folks who are living there can still access that water and enjoy the benefits of it."
In Riverview, a historic, predominantly Black neighborhood bordered by the Trout River, residents have long felt overlooked in conversations about flooding and environmental investment. The Riverview Collective Community Organization (RCCO) is changing that. They host creek cleanups, organize neighborhood meetings, and push for infrastructure improvements. They partner with Riverkeeper and LISC, but they also build their own leadership — rooted in the belief that the people who live closest to the river should have the strongest voice in its future. Their work is a reminder that environmental stewardship is not just about ecosystems — it’s about dignity, representation, and belonging.
For Marshiray Wellington, the work of the RCCO is about creating moments where neighbors can learn, organize, and imagine a different future together. "We are using Oysterfest to bring the community together to educate them around the challenges that our community is facing and then strategies that we as a community can put in place to respond to that, Wellington said. "We're also trying to bring the attention of the city to our neighborhood... so that hopefully we can get more to join our efforts in revitalizing our neighborhood. The goal is to kind of restore us back to a thriving neighborhood."
In Lake Forest Hills, just west of the Trout River, the Lake Forest Hills Next Door Community Network has become a lifeline. Residents use it to report flooding, organize cleanups, share environmental alerts, and support seniors during storms. It’s not a formal nonprofit. It’s neighbors talking to neighbors — and that’s exactly why it works. Their hyper‑local vigilance fills gaps that agencies can’t always reach. When a storm drain clogs, a creek overflows, or illegal dumping occurs, the community responds first. They are the river’s eyes and ears.
From her kitchen window overlooking the Ribault River, Antoinette Wells, chairperson of the Lake Forest Hills Nextdoor community network, describes her mission in the neighborhood with unmistakable clarity. "My slogan is helping the neighborhood one house at a time. And those neighbors that need minimal, like small repairs under 500, helping them with neighborhood beautification competitions and contests, just so they can develop some pride that just because we're on the north side, it's important that we keep our yard and keep our property just as nice as the other sides of town," said Wells. "That's what I want to encourage: a pride, some sort of pride. Let's make our neighborhood just as beautiful as the other sides of town."
What ties these groups together is not a shared structure — it’s a shared belief: the health of the St. Johns River is inseparable from the health of the communities along it. Riverkeeper brings science and advocacy. LISC brings resources and planning. Riverview Collective Community Organization brings grassroots leadership. Lake Forest Hills brings hyper‑local action. Together, they form a civic ecosystem as interconnected as the river system they protect.
The St. Johns River has shaped Jacksonville for centuries. Now, Jacksonville’s residents are shaping the river’s future. Their work is not glamorous. It’s not always visible. But it is powerful — and it is growing. In a city defined by water, these are the voices rising to protect it. Not as experts or activists alone, but as neighbors, storytellers, and stewards of a river that holds their history and their hope.
Hugo Balta is the executive editor of The Fulcrum and the publisher of the Latino News Network.
The 50 is an award-winning documentary series. The four-year multimedia initiative led by The Fulcrum, travels to communities in every state to uncover what motivated Americans to vote in the 2024 presidential election. Through in-depth storytelling, the project examines how the Donald Trump administration is responding to those hopes and concerns—and highlights civic-focused organizations that inform, educate, and empower the public to take action.
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