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When disasters are deemed too small, rural Mississippi struggles to recover

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Under a mystic blend of pink lightning and green sky, Victoria Jackson called her daughter in a panic, warning her of the news: A was on a path towards Rolling Fork.   

Her daughter was working that March night at Chuck's Dairy Bar, a staple of the small, south Delta town. Along with some customers, Jackson's daughter, Natasha, nestled into one of the coolers in the restaurant.

Hours later, once the storm blew by, Jackson headed to find her daughter, navigating through debris. She found Natasha shaking, in tears. While the tornado tore the rest of Chuck's into shreds, the cooler and those inside it were safe.

“I thank God that I called her and told her to get down,” Jackson told Mississippi .

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The tornado killed 14 people in Sharkey County, and left Rolling Fork with little resemblance of its prior self. While the Jacksons didn't lose anyone or anything that night, the reason they were in Rolling Fork in the first place is because, three months prior, they lost everything.

Anguilla residents Timiesha Gowdy (center) and Victoria Jackson (right), are currently residing in a hotel after a recent tornado devastated the area. Both women were at the Anguilla town hall seeking assistance, and were able to pick up a few items volunteers dropped off, Wednesday, March 29, 2023. Credit: Vickie D. King/Mississippi Today

The first tornado the Jacksons survived wiped away their homes last December, tearing up a trailer park where they lived in Anguilla. Victoria, her sister, aunt, cousin and everyone in their families lost their homes, among five total that were destroyed. About 20 members of the family had to relocate a few miles down Highway 61 to a motel in Rolling Fork. Many of them, including Victoria, are still there.

As is often the case for rural disaster survivors, the damages they endured were too small to trigger crucial federal aid. Victoria didn't have home insurance and lost her job after the storm. Now, nearly six months later, her family hasn't seen a cent of government disaster aid, and are instead counting on donations to put them in a real home again.

Disaster recovery is already an often difficult and drawn-out . But for rural, poor towns like Anguilla, a town of 496 people, it's even tougher.

When people think about disaster recovery, they often think of “FEMA” – the Federal Emergency Management Agency, the national hub of government disaster aid. In reality, though, a vast majority of the country's disasters don't receive any FEMA money. They're what experts call “undeclared” events.

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“If you were to aggregate all the losses tied to undeclared disasters, they actually are more costly than typically declared disasters,” said Gavin Smith, a professor of Landscape Architecture and Environmental Planning at North Carolina State University who has helped lead recovery efforts in multiple states.

In Mississippi, nearly a thousand homes have been damaged in undeclared disasters in just the last two years, state records show.

FEMA aid, which when the president signs a disaster declaration, is reserved for the larger disasters that leave states needing additional resources. But when a disaster doesn't meet that threshold, most states, including Mississippi, can't replicate the kinds of services FEMA can offer.

The programs states receive after a federal declaration include: paying for public infrastructure repairs, putting people in temporary housing, sending direct payments to survivors, expanding safety net programs like food stamps and uninsurance benefits, among others.

Since more often than not, FEMA money is unavailable, many disaster survivors rely on their home insurance to pay for repairs.

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But low-income, uninsured families like the Jacksons have to instead depend on the slow, complex network of volunteers and charities. Nonprofits and national religious groups help struggling communities recover all over the country, collecting donations to help rebuild homes, and providing otherwise costly labor for free. But that process takes time.

“If they're back and recovered within six months, that is like warp speed for these organizations,” said Michelle Annette Meyer, the director of the Hazard Reduction & Recovery Center at A&M University. “At best, they're looking at a year-long process to get the donations in, confirm the paperwork, get the volunteers and get the materials donated.”

For Sharkey County, where Anguilla and Rolling Fork are, the nonprofit Delta Force handles disaster recovery, finding new homes for survivors after undeclared events. Delta Force's chairman, Martha Bray, wouldn't comment on specific cases for privacy reasons, only saying that they're waiting for enough donations to in to buy new mobile homes for the Jacksons.

“It's going to be a long process, that's all we hear,” Victoria Jackson said.

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Damages from a tornado that struck a mobile home park in Anguilla in December, 2022. Credit: Victoria Jackson

Last December, just before Christmas and after the tornado destroyed her home, Jackson lost her retail job at a local shop. She said her boss didn't let her come back despite giving her time off after the storm, and then listed her as quit, which blocked her from unemployment benefits.

Now, she's sharing a two-bed room with her husband and six kids at the Rolling Fork Motel.

Jackson said she received $2,500 in initial donations from local churches and charities. But expenses like food, gas, laundry, and taking care of her quickly dried that money up. Since her daughter Natasha lost her job at Chuck's Dairy Bar, the family's relying on her husband's truck-driving job to keep them afloat.

After the December tornado, Anguilla Mayor Jan Pearson reached out to state and U.S. representatives, hoping that they could appeal for government assistance. The traces of the tornado were widespread in the small town, damaging businesses and even blowing the roof off the town's middle school, forcing students to relocate. 

“I wrote all of them a letter,” Pearson said. “However, to no avail. We did not get anything.”

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County , Pearson said, told her the damages didn't meet the threshold for federal assistance.

“I keep hearing we didn't meet the threshold,” she said. “Well I asked somebody, ‘Will you tell me what the threshold is?' No one could tell me what the threshold is.”

For Individual Assistance, the FEMA program that includes housing and other direct support for survivors, there is no set threshold, officials told Mississippi Today.

“It is kind of subjective,” FEMA spokesperson Mike Wade said.

FEMA weighs several factors, such as the degree of damages and the amount of uninsured losses, when deciding if a declaration is justified. The agency categorizes damages into several categories, ranging from “affected” to “destroyed.”

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But to local and state officials, FEMA's criteria is unclear.

In the summer of 2021, for instance, heavy rain flooded 284 homes in the Delta. While local officials pleaded for federal support, the state informed them that not enough of the homes received “major damage,” which FEMA defines as needing “extensive repairs.”

Last March, 33 tornadoes touched down in Mississippi, destroying 42 homes across a dozen counties. The state applied for a federal declaration, but was denied.

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While there's no set threshold, the Mississippi Emergency Management Agency estimated that at least 50 homes need major damage to earn a federal declaration.

But the damages from undeclared disasters in just the last couple years dwarf that number.

Since 2021, 982 homes in the state received some damage from an undeclared natural disaster, according to records from ; 81 of those homes were completely destroyed, and another 203 received major damage.

“When you look at only one of (the undeclared disasters), the damage may be relatively small,” said Andrew Rumbach, a senior fellow at the Urban Institute whose research focuses on rural recovery efforts. “But when you add all those up across the state, it actually cumulatively could be much more important than some of those big events that do get that support.”

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Anguilla has just 250 households, according to the Census. Sharkey County Supervisor Jesse Mason, who represents Anguilla, wondered how such a small place could reach the amount of damages that FEMA looks for.

“I don't know what the magic number is,” Mason said. “I guess maybe it had to tear the whole town up.”

Anguilla Mayor Jan Pearson, coordinating relief efforts outside town hall for residents effected a recent tornado. FEMA representatives (right) assist residents with paperwork, Wednesday, March 29, 2023. Credit: Vickie D. King/Mississippi Today

Rural areas have an especially hard time getting FEMA disaster aid, experts say. Mississippi was the fourth most rural state according to a 2010 Census survey, the latest with such data. Sharkey County, home to 3,488 people, is the second least populated county in the state. Neighboring Issaquena County is the first.

“The more rural you are and the more scattered your population and assets are, sometimes those kind of events are the ones that slip under the radar compared to the events where there's media, for example, to immediately cover it, or there's political pressure to immediately make declarations,” Rumbach said.

Mississippi has a program that sends money to counties after undeclared disasters. The Disaster Assistance Repair Program, or DARP, works with local nonprofits, and sends up to $250,000 for materials to rebuild homes. Meyer, the Texas A&M professor, said that's more than what most states do after undeclared events.

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Since 2018, DARP has helped rebuild 850 homes in 22 counties. But Sharkey County hasn't applied for DARP funds to help the Anguilla survivors, and officials couldn't be reached to explain why.

Every county in the state has emergency management officials. But in Sharkey County, there are only two such employees, and both work part-time. Counties with lower tax bases and less capacity to do damage assessments struggle to make the case for disaster declarations, Rumbach said.

One of those two employees, Natalie Perkins, also runs the local weekly newspaper. After the Rolling Fork disaster, which President Joe Biden approved for federal aid, Perkins saw firsthand the difference a declaration makes.

“When you have a declared disaster, everyone comes out of the woodwork to help,” she said. “But when you have an undeclared (event), you don't get the attention, you don't get the donations, you don't get the federal and state funding that you do in a declared disaster. That's just the bottom line.”

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Anguilla resident Victoria Jackson (right), was still seeking assistance after being displaced by an earlier storm before another tornado hit Sharkey County last Friday. She waited in line to fill out relief forms with a FEMA representative near Anguilla's town hall, Wednesday, March 29, 2023. Credit: Vickie D. King/Mississippi Today

On the morning of Mar. 29, five days after the tornado in Rolling Fork, which also damaged parts of Anguilla, Mayor Pearson scrambled to help FEMA officials set up a booth outside of the town hall. 

Pearson sat down with Mississippi Today to talk about the December tornado, the one that displaced the Jacksons. She emphasized that she didn't want to take away attention from what happened in Rolling Fork. But she couldn't hold back frustration over the lack of help Victoria Jackson and her family received.

“These people just three months ago lost their homes,” the mayor said. “I can't equate Rolling Fork with Anguilla. But come on now, people are people, humans are humans. The (Jacksons) left Anguilla and came to Rolling Fork. Now a tornado hit Rolling Fork. These people don't have anything, and you're telling them they can't qualify (for FEMA aid)?”

Damages from a tornado that struck a mobile home park in Anguilla in December, 2022. Credit: Victoria Jackson

At the motel, the Jacksons accused the owner of poor treatment, saying he recently raised their weekly rent to $400, and charges extra to wash their sheets. When reached for comment, the motel staff said the owner was out of the country and couldn't comment. Meanwhile, the Jacksons don't know how much longer they'll be able to afford the room.

That Wednesday, while federal officials were in Anguilla, Victoria tried to apply for FEMA aid. They called back later, she said, telling her she'd been denied. While the agency won't comment on specific cases, FEMA confirmed that aid wasn't available for people in her situation.

“We just need the help that they're giving other people,” Jackson said, wondering why she and her family had been left out. “Anguilla is Sharkey County, Rolling Fork is Sharkey County, so all this should be combined together, right? Help for everybody, right?”

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This article first appeared on Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.

Mississippi Today

Medical residents are increasingly avoiding states with abortion restrictions

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mississippitoday.org – Rachana Pradhan, KFF Health and Julie Rovner, KFF Health News – 2024-05-09 12:27:53

Isabella Rosario Blum was wrapping up medical school and considering residency programs to become a practice physician when she got some frank advice: If she wanted to be trained to abortions, she shouldn't stay in Arizona.

Blum turned to programs mostly in states where abortion access — and, by extension, abortion training — is likely to remain protected, like California, Colorado, and New Mexico. Arizona has enacted a law banning most abortions after 15 weeks.

“I would really like to have all the training possible,” she said, “so of course that would have still been a limitation.”

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In June, she will start her residency at Swedish Cherry Hill hospital in Seattle.

According to new statistics from the Association of American Medical Colleges, for the second year in a row, graduating from U.S. medical schools were less likely to apply this year for residency positions in states with abortion bans and other significant abortion restrictions.

Since the Supreme Court in 2022 overturned the constitutional right to an abortion, fights over abortion access have created plenty of uncertainty for pregnant patients and their . But that uncertainty has also bled into the world of medical education, forcing some new doctors to factor state abortion laws into their decisions about where to begin their careers.

Fourteen states, primarily in the Midwest and South, have banned nearly all abortions. The new analysis by the AAMC — a preliminary copy of which was exclusively reviewed by KFF Health News before its public release — found that the number of applicants to residency programs in states with near-total abortion bans declined by 4.2%, compared with a 0.6% drop in states where abortion remains legal.

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Notably, the AAMC's findings illuminate the broader problems abortion bans can create for a state's medical community, particularly in an era of provider shortages: The organization tracked a larger decrease in interest in residencies in states with abortion restrictions not only among those in specialties most likely to treat pregnant patients, like OB-GYNs and emergency room doctors, but also among aspiring doctors in other specialties.

“It should be concerning for states with severe restrictions on reproductive rights that so many new physicians — across specialties — are choosing to apply to other states for training instead,” wrote Atul Grover, executive director of the AAMC's Research and Action Institute.

The AAMC analysis found the number of applicants to OB-GYN residency programs in abortion ban states dropped by 6.7%, compared with a 0.4% increase in states where abortion remains legal. For internal medicine, the drop observed in abortion ban states was over five times as much as in states where abortion is legal.

In its analysis, the AAMC said an ongoing decline in interest in ban states among new doctors ultimately “may negatively affect access to care in those states.”

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Jack Resneck Jr., immediate past president of the American Medical Association, said the data demonstrates yet another consequence of the post-Roe v. Wade era.

The AAMC analysis notes that even in states with abortion bans, residency programs are filling their positions — mostly because there are more graduating medical students in the U.S. and abroad than there are residency slots.

Still, Resneck said, “we're extraordinarily worried.” For example, physicians without adequate abortion training may not be able to manage miscarriages, ectopic pregnancies, or potential complications such as infection or hemorrhaging that could stem from pregnancy loss.

Those who work with students and residents say their observations support the AAMC's findings. “People don't want to go to a place where evidence-based practice and human rights in general are curtailed,” said Beverly Gray, an associate professor of obstetrics and gynecology at Duke School of Medicine.

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Abortion in North Carolina is banned in nearly all cases after 12 weeks. Women who experience unexpected complications or discover their baby has potentially fatal birth defects later in pregnancy may not be able to receive care there.

Gray said she worries that even though Duke is a highly sought training destination for medical residents, the abortion ban “impacts whether we have the best and brightest coming to North Carolina.”

Rohini Kousalya Siva will start her obstetrics and gynecology residency at MedStar Washington Hospital Center in Washington, D.C., this year. She said she did not consider programs in states that have banned or severely restricted abortion, applying instead to programs in Maryland, New Hampshire, New York, and Washington, D.C.

“We're physicians,” said Kousalya Siva, who attended medical school in Virginia and was previously president of the American Medical Student Association. “We're supposed to be giving the best evidence-based care to our patients, and we can't do that if we haven't been given abortion training.”

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Another consideration: Most graduating medical students are in their 20s, “the age when people are starting to think about putting down roots and starting families,” said Gray, who added that she is noticing many more students ask about politics during their residency interviews.

And because most young doctors make their careers in the state where they do their residencies, “people don't feel safe potentially having their own pregnancies living in those states” with severe restrictions, said Debra Stulberg, chair of the Department of Family Medicine at the University of Chicago.

Stulberg and others worry that this self-selection away from states with abortion restrictions will exacerbate the shortages of physicians in rural and underserved areas.

“The geographic misalignment between where the needs are and where people are choosing to go is really problematic,” she said. “We don't need people further concentrating in urban areas where there's already good access.”

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After attending medical school in Tennessee, which has adopted one of the most sweeping abortion bans in the nation, Hannah Light-Olson will start her OB-GYN residency at the University of California-San Francisco this summer.

It was not an easy , she said. “I feel some guilt and sadness leaving a situation where I feel like I could be of some ,” she said. “I feel deeply indebted to the program that trained me, and to the patients of Tennessee.”

Light-Olson said some of her fellow students applied to programs in abortion ban states “because they think we need pro-choice providers in restrictive states now more than ever.” In fact, she said, she also applied to programs in ban states when she was confident the program had a way to provide abortion training.

“I felt like there was no perfect, 100% guarantee; we've seen how fast things can change,” she said. “I don't feel particularly confident that California and New York aren't going to be under threat, too.”

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As a of a scholarship she received for medical school, Blum said, she will have to return to Arizona to practice, and it is unclear what abortion access will look like then. But she is worried about long-term impacts.

“Residents, if they can't get the training in the state, then they're probably less likely to settle down and work in the state as well,” she said.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

This article first appeared on Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.

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Mississippi Today

On this day in 1928

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mississippitoday.org – Jerry Mitchell – 2024-05-09 07:00:00

MAY 9, 1928

First NFL with an all-Black officiating crew on Nov. 23, 2020. Burl Toler, pictured far right, was remembered. Credit: NBC

Burl Toler was born in Memphis. The first Black official in any major sport in the U.S., he defeated prejudice at each turn. 

In 1951, Toler starred for the legendary undefeated of San Francisco Dons. Prejudice kept the integrated team from playing in the Gator Bowl, but the team found anyway. Nine players went to the NFL, three of them later inducted into the Professional Football Hall of Fame. Their best player may have been Toler, who was drafted by Cleveland but suffered a severe knee injury in a college all-star game that ended his playing days. 

Toler decided to make his way into professional football through officiating. The NFL hired him in 1965 — a year before Emmett Ashford became the first Black umpire in Major League and three years before Jackie White broke the color barrier in the NBA. 

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He rose above the racism he encountered, working as a head linesman and field judge for a quarter-century. He officiated Super Bowl XIV, where the Pittsburgh Steelers defeated the Los Angeles Rams in 1980. Two years later, he officiated the “Freezer Bowl,” where the Cincinnati Bengals defeated the San Diego Chargers in the AFC Championship Game. The game marked the coldest temperatures of any game in NFL history — minus 59 degrees wind chill — and Toler suffered frostbite. 

In addition to his NFL work, he worked as an educator, becoming the first Black secondary school principal in the San Francisco district. He died in 2009. Two area schools and a hall on the University of San Francisco campus have been renamed in his honor. On Nov. 23, 2020, Toler was remembered again when the NFL had its first all-Black officiating crew.

This article first appeared on Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.

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EPA absolves MDEQ, Health Department of discrimination in funding Jackson water

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mississippitoday.org – Alex Rozier – 2024-05-08 15:42:36

About a year and half ago, on the heels of 's infamous system failure, advocates and politicians from Mississippi began publicly questioning the mechanisms that are supposed to support such .

In October 2022, U.S. Reps. Bennie Thompson and Carolyn Maloney wrote Gov. Tate Reeves, grilling him over an apparent disparity in how federal funds were allocated to Jackson versus other parts of the .

Then days later, the Environmental Protection Agency's office opened an investigation into two state agencies — the Mississippi Department of Environmental Quality and the Mississippi Department of — in response to the NAACP's claims of discrimination under Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964. Title VI prohibits discrimination — based on race, color or national origin — in providing federal assistance.

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On Monday, though, the EPA announced it had ended the probe after finding no evidence the agencies had short-changed Jackson's water system. In its investigation, the EPA looked at the funding amounts and racial demographics of cities that received water funding from MDEQ and the Health Department and determined there was no correlation between the two factors.

A scatter plot from the EPA's analysis comparing the levels of funding cities received with their percent of Black residents.

“The evidence overwhelmingly shows that the Mississippi Department of Environmental Quality did everything right,” MDEQ Executive Director Chris Wells said in a press release the EPA's announcement.

The two agencies are in charge of disbursing funds from the EPA called “state revolving loan,” or SRF, funds, which are meant to help cities make infrastructure improvements. MDEQ handles SRF funds related to wastewater infrastructure, while the Health Department handles SRF funds for drinking water.

But the claims against the agencies were only part of the 2022 complaint the NAACP filed with the EPA. The federal agency did not address another complaint: The group also focused on the state , which has denied attempts in recent years by Jackson to raise money for its water system, such as creating a new 1% tax.

Click here for the EPA's full responses to MDEQ and Health Department.

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This article first appeared on Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.

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