In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

179 Nancy López When I take my two daughters and other family members to the local hospitals in Albuquerque, New Mexico, I am sometimes asked to fill out forms regarding “race,” ethnicity, and language at the registration desk.1 As I fill out these forms, I make note of the large bright posters lining some of the registration cubicles, which feature smiling patients from a variety of backgrounds. Several captions attempt to reassure patients by explaining why it is important to collect race, ethnicity, and language data in the hospital setting: “We ask because we care. By asking your race, ethnicity, and language, we are able to deliver health care equally to all patients. What is your race? What is your ethnicity? What is your primary language?” Toward the end of the placard another heading affirms: “Respecting every difference, treating each equally. Get REAL: Race, Ethnicity, and Language.”2 As an Afro-Latina and a sociologist of racial and gender stratification, I am viscerally aware of the importance of collecting data and analysis of data on “race” and ethnicity. As several of my colleagues have pointed out in this volume, one way of pursuing high-quality research on race and inequality in a variety of domains including health, education, and beyond is to take the social construction of race seriously (Gómez, this volume). While it is tempting to equate ethnicity with racial status, the conceptual and analytical distinction between race and ethnicity is of particular importance, as studies have found qualitatively different treatment and health outcomes for Latinos who selfidentify or are socially defined as Black as opposed to White, or “some other race” (LaVeist-Ramos et al. 2011; Jones et al. 2008; Gravlee and Dressler, 2005). For example, I was born and raised in a New York City public housing project Contextualizing Lived Race-Gender and the Racialized-Gendered Social Determinants of Health Chapter 12 180 Nancy López and Spanish is my first language. Although I share the same ethnic background of my immigrant Dominican parents, my father, who is light-skinned, and not of discernable so-called African phenotypes, occupies a very different racial status than my mother and me. In most social circumstances in the U.S. my mother and I are classified as Black (Bonilla-Silva 1999; Rodriguez 2000; VidalOrtiz 2004).3 The distinction between ethnicity and “race” is not trivial. As argued by Griffith (2012, 110), “In the context of men’s [and women’s] health, distinguishing between race and ethnicity can help researchers disentangle health outcomes that may be due to environmental constraints and contexts that vary by race from the cultural traditions, beliefs and habits and practices that vary by ethnicity.” In an effort to explore the separate effects of ethnicity from “race” in health disparities research, LaVeist-Ramos et al. (2011) used the National Health Interview Survey to disentangle whether Black Hispanics are more similar to their co-ethnics or to Black non-Hispanics. They found that co-ethnics regardless of race shared similar health outcomes; however, for health services outcomes, Black Hispanics occupy the same stigmatized racial status as U.S.-born Blacks. This means that Black Hispanics did not receive the same type of treatment as their White Hispanic counterparts when they access health care: “The common cultures among black and white Hispanics people may motivate similar values, beliefs, attitudes, behaviours. On the other hand, that race exerts greater influence on both health status and health services of black Hispanics may reflect the impact of societal forces. Black Hispanics visual similarity with nonHispanic blacks may lead to similar social status and subject them to similar levels of discrimination” (LaVeist-Ramos 2011, 5).4 Here LaVeist-Ramos et al. underscore the value-added to health disparities research by disentangling ethnicity (culture, values, behaviors, and so on), from “race” as a social status that is analytically distinct from ethnicity or cultural background. How can we go beyond merely complying with federal guidelines to collect race and ethnicity data, to improve health care and ultimately eliminate racial and ethnic health disparities? Since 2011 I have had the privilege of serving as a member of the Race and Ethnicity Advisory Committee of the New Mexico Hospitals Association. Part of our task is to create systematic data collection that would allow us to improve the delivery of services to the diverse communities in New Mexico. At just over 2 million residents, New Mexico has a relatively small population. A harbinger of the...

Share