On a recent Saturday morning, the local Boys and Girls Club in Fort Collins hosted an all-out vaccine party in its gymnasium. A mariachi band serenaded patients. Volunteers served fresh churros and horchata.
But behind the cinnamon sugar and celebratory mood was a small army of community organizers with an urgent mission: Get as many Hispanic and Latino residents as possible immunized against COVID-19, and help close wide disparities within Colorado鈥檚 ongoing vaccine rollout.
鈥淲e鈥檝e seen the struggle of our community in the last year,鈥� said Jes煤s Castro, an organizer with the group Fuerza Latina. 鈥淪o we wanted to make something nice, like a reunion.鈥�
Extra perks like offering on-site childcare also paid off. More than 550 people showed up for a dose.
鈥淚 think this type of effort 鈥� it鈥檚 a manifestation of love,鈥� Castro said. 鈥淚t鈥檚 something we needed to do.鈥�
With demand for vaccines declining across the state, community groups and government leaders alike are scrambling to keep interest alive, especially among Colorado鈥檚 Latino population. The effort is even more urgent, they say, because Latinos remain significantly underrepresented in the number of people getting shots.
The data is stark. White residents are twice as likely to have gotten a COVID-19 vaccine as Latino residents. And even though they make up 20% of the population, Latinos have gotten just under 10% of doses.
Those most eager have already been vaccinated. Now comes the hard part of getting shots into the arms of people who are the most hesitant or face significant language, transportation or other access barriers.
鈥淥ur efforts have to become double, triple, quadruple efforts and become more innovative in the ways that we try to reach out to get to people,鈥� said Dr. Oswaldo Grenardo, chief diversity officer at Centura Health and a tri-chair of the Colorado Vaccine Equity Task Force. 鈥�We've got to figure out for those people who are remaining, what is going to switch them over to wanting the vaccine?鈥�
The pursuit of an answer to that question has spawned many out-of-the-box ideas, a strategy shift among vaccine providers as Colorado public health leaders look to reach herd immunity (or something close to it) later this year. More than 2.7 million Coloradans have received at least one dose of vaccine, but the state鈥檚 pace has slowed over the past month.
Gov. Jared Polis this week re-upped his appeal to all residents to get vaccinated, proclaiming 鈥渋t鈥檚 easier than ever before to get the life-saving vaccine.鈥� The state has launched a mobile vaccine bus to reach rural communities and opened several mass walk-up clinics.
In recent press updates, Polis has featured stories from Latino residents who have gotten the shot.
On Tuesday, Paul L贸pez, Denver鈥檚 Clerk and Recorder, shared a photo of himself with his daughter and vaccinated mother and appealed to fellow Latinos to get a shot.
鈥淚 know you think you鈥檙e tough. But the virus doesn鈥檛 care how tough or macho you are,鈥� L贸pez said. 鈥淚t will snatch you. It will kill you.鈥�
At the local level, creative efforts are ramping up.
A team of community groups in Fort Collins recently organized a clinic at a drive-in movie theater. Patrons snacked on tacos and watched a Spanish-language version of The Croods after getting their shots.
The Larimer County Department of Health and Environment has started using census data to open pop up clinics in neighborhoods with predominantly Latino residents.
The one at the Northside Aztlan Community Center in Fort Collins is located near lots of businesses in bustling Old Town, so people can stop by after work. There鈥檚 also a public transit route nearby for easy access.
Victor Acevedo, a 52-year-old construction worker, said he didn鈥檛 know vaccines were available until a family friend told him and his wife about the Aztlan clinic. His friend helped them sign up online and he came by on his day off.
鈥淚t was easy,鈥� he said, speaking Spanish.
Olga Fraide, a department specialist with the health department, helped lead registration. She said picking this site resulted in a higher percentage of Latino patients than previous county-run clinics.
County data shows at least 11.6% of doses at the Aztlan site have gone to individuals who identify as Latino. That鈥檚 well above other large clinics at Moby Arena and The Ranch, which both have roughly 5% of doses going to Latinos.
鈥淥nce people knew we were near them, they were calling, you know,鈥� Fraide said. 鈥淎nd that's happened several times that once they know that they're in a place where they know that they can go, yes, then they start coming.鈥�
The targeted clinics, along with eligibility expansion, has had an effect, The local Latino vaccine gap is narrowing, but remains large.
In Weld County, local organizers have been marketing Latino equity clinics at Sunrise Community Health鈥檚 main facility in Evans. They鈥檝e posted signs at local grocery stores, child care centers and churches.
More than 1,000 people showed up to the first one earlier this spring.
鈥淭here is trust in Sunrise and trust in us,鈥� said Deb Suniga, head of the Latino Coalition of Weld County. 鈥淏ecause that鈥檚 where our people go. They feel safe and have comfort there.鈥�
The federal government recently granted $8.6 million to Sunrise to expand its equity efforts, as part of a broader nationwide push to beef up vaccinations at community health sites. Sunrise has already used part of the money to hire 15 new staff members, said Chalice Springfield, a spokeswoman for the health center.
The center is planning to start offering evening clinics during the week, launch a media campaign and deploy more mobile vaccine 鈥渟trike teams鈥� to improve equity. They also hope to work with local school districts to host clinics once the federal government approves vaccines for adolescents as young as 12 years old.
鈥淚鈥檓 encouraged about what鈥檚 happening at the local level,鈥� Springfield said.
In a statement, the Weld County Department of Health and Environment said it has invested in PSAs on local Spanish-language radio and is working with local clinics such as Sunrise to promote equity.
Back at the Boys and Girls Club in Fort Collins, 16-year-old Lyla Ramos is helping check people in, even though she isn鈥檛 sure if she wants a vaccine herself. She鈥檚 worried about the shot hurting and the potential side effects. But her family has been encouraging her.
鈥淭hey鈥檙e like, 鈥楬ey, you should go get it and it won鈥檛 hurt,鈥欌�� Ramos said. 鈥溾�楲ike, you鈥檙e fine. It鈥檒l be okay.鈥� And I鈥檓 like, 鈥業鈥檓 nervous.鈥欌��
Ramos is planning to let her sister go first, and then decide.
Julio Atondo Alfonso Avalos, 17, was hesitant about getting a vaccine. But he decided to get a shot so he could continue to play football and run track at school.
His mother snagged him an appointment as soon as she heard teens were eligible.
鈥淚 was hearing a lot about the side effects, but I want to be protected from the virus and any opportunity I can get I would like to take it,鈥� Alfonso Avalos said.
Jes煤s Castro feels like it鈥檚 up to community organizers like himself to be there for people like Ramos and Alfonso Avalos.
鈥淲e knew that we had to push for our community to get vaccinated because it seems like the Latino community is always lost in everything,鈥� Castro said. 鈥淣o one thinks of us. We are no one鈥檚 priority. And we have to make it happen for ourselves.鈥�
The health of the community depends on it, he said. If disparities aren鈥檛 reduced, experts worry Latinos could continue to suffer from COVID at disproportionate rates in the future.
鈥淚t鈥檚 either get immunized or get the virus,鈥� said Dr. Grenardo. 鈥淭hose people who don鈥檛 get (the vaccine) will still be the highest risk to getting sick, and if you have more racial ethnic minorities in those populations at risk, then those populations are going to be at risk for worse, continuing worse effects and consequences from the pandemic from a health and economic perspective.鈥�
