The consequences of anti-vaccine rhetoric are often felt not by those trying to make a political statement, but the most vulnerable among our communities.
In 2020, as the world confronted the COVID-19 pandemic, my family was locked in our own private fight for survival. My daughter had just been diagnosed with leukemia. Her immune system was already in a fragile state, and we knew that even a minor infection could become life-threatening. As COVID spread, the urgency was clear: We needed to protect her at all costs.
Outside our small world of hospital rooms and oncologists, the national conversation took on a disquieting tone. As scientists worked to develop a vaccine, Americans were debating not just its rollout but whether the vaccine should even exist. Many prominent voices spread fear and mistrust—chief among them Robert F. Kennedy Jr., one of the country’s most outspoken anti-vaccine advocates.
While I was aching over how little choice I had about my daughter’s cancer treatments—treatments we hoped would give her a chance to survive—many people around us were treating the COVID vaccine like a personal experiment, debating its merits, questioning its science. My family didn’t have the luxury of such skepticism. The vaccine wasn’t about politics or liberty for us. It was about life and death.
Now, in an unprecedented turn, RFK Jr. is seeking confirmation as the head of the Department of Health and Human Services. The consequences of this decision are staggering. His elevation from the fringe to the pinnacle of U.S. healthcare policy solidifies a legacy of anti-science rhetoric that threatens to destabilize public health.
This isn’t just another debate on cable news or an issue to be hashed out in comment sections. Kennedy’s stance has already seeped into public discourse, fostering doubt in the very institutions tasked with protecting our health. For people like my daughter—those too vulnerable to fight disease on their own—this shift will be catastrophic.
It’s important to understand what happens when science becomes just another “side” in a political fight. When RFK Jr. questions vaccines, he isn’t promoting personal freedom; he’s dismantling the foundation of public health. The freedom to refuse vaccinations doesn’t just affect the one person opting out; it reverberates through communities, affecting everyone, especially those with compromised immune systems. During my daughter’s treatment, “freedom” from vaccines was a threat that could have cost her life.
Imagine yourself in a pediatric oncology wing where each child is facing down an illness that none of them chose. Parents like me, desperate and exhausted, are trusting their kids’ lives to the medical system. Every treatment decision feels high-stakes and terrifying, but we are buoyed by the hard-won knowledge of experts who understand exactly what these children need to survive. That’s a necessary and fundamental trust.
Real freedom, for families like mine, means knowing that our healthcare choices are grounded in rigor and reason, not in fear and conspiracy.
As public voices continue to cast doubt on medical science, that trust erodes. This is especially true when anti-vaccine advocates like RFK Jr. move from spreading misinformation online to steering the nation’s healthcare policies. Public health systems rely on trust to function—trust that experts are here to help us, not harm us; trust that when our children are sick, the available treatments aren’t just another political gamble. It’s this fundamental trust that allowed me to hand my daughter over to doctors and believe they’d do everything they could to save her life.
When RFK Jr. fans the flames of anti-vaccine sentiment, he positions himself as a defender of “freedom,” a champion against government overreach, but real freedom doesn’t come from disregarding science. Real freedom, for families like mine, means knowing that our healthcare choices are grounded in rigor and reason, not in fear and conspiracy. It means having confidence that those entrusted with our well-being are basing their decisions on data, not political expediency.
Kennedy’s influence on public health won’t stop at vaccines. His rhetoric, if normalized, could introduce a climate where any medical treatment is up for debate, where parents of children with cancer or other illnesses are made to feel like they’re gambling with their kids’ lives. If RFK Jr.’s anti-science positions shape healthcare policy, what’s to stop the erosion of trust in other life-saving treatments? Will parents in the future be asked to question even basic cancer treatments because a politician has convinced the public it’s their right to doubt?
As we consider the future of our country’s health policies under RFK Jr.’s leadership, we must recognize the very real costs of elevating and legitimizing voices like his. When vaccine refusal is framed as a political statement rather than a public health decision, those who are most vulnerable pay the price. My daughter didn’t have the luxury of waiting for treatment options that aligned with political ideologies. Like all children facing life-threatening illness, she needed science, not speculation.
The purpose of public health is to protect everyone, especially the weakest among us. That protection requires a collective agreement to trust in science and in each other. We cannot let RFK Jr. turn healthcare into another culture war. The lives of the most vulnerable should never be negotiable.