Advocating for agriculture should be synonymous with advocating for rural America
Written by Katie Arndt, Class of 2027 Fellow
From a young age, many of us have heard quotes like “an apple a day keeps the doctor away” or “you are what you eat.” While our physical health is important, rural America, agriculturalists and those working in allied industries are fighting a battle that can easily go unseen – a battle between our own minds, industry conditions beyond our own control, access to healthcare and more. While we are in the Illinois Agricultural Leadership Program, some of us, maybe even some of you, are advocating for agriculture, but also rural America.
Growing up in a household with a sibling with autism spectrum disorder, especially in the early 2000s when getting a formal diagnosis was difficult, mental health was a common topic of discussion in our home, but it also impacted our daily lives. Living in DeKalb County, you would think it was easy for my family to find the professionals needed to help my brother become a functioning, self-sufficient person, with a four-year university in our backyard and being a “collar county of Chicago.” The reality was that my mom would have to go all the way to Northbrook, Illinois, to find a psychiatrist willing to see my brother so he could get the medications needed to feel under control and make it through a full day of school. She would then have to take him through the traffic in St. Charles, Illinois, to find a psychologist to evaluate him and advise my parents on what therapies he needed.
These road trips do not account for the amount of school my brother would miss, additional counseling appointments and hours my mom would spend advocating for my brother through school and with other professionals on his support team. Why do I share this? My brother needed the services many Americans need but have no access to because they live in rural America and/or the service is not available when and where they need it. My brother required services similar to those someone in mental health crisis would need.
If my family struggled to get my brother care in DeKalb County, what does that mean for rural communities throughout Illinois? What does that mean for the rural communities in states like Texas, where 1 in 6 counties does not have a doctor?
As I jumped onto our virtual “Whole Health & Resilient Leadership Seminar,” we were welcomed by Matt Ginder, class of 2008 and chief marketplace delivery officer at Compeer Financial, and Julie and Jill Stuenkel, sisters of Tim Stuenkel, class of 2012. On this rainy day, we all heard how the perception of rural communities may be a closely-knit “village,” but how, more than ever, it is very important for us all to “be a villager” because it is incredibly easy to mistake someone as thriving, when, in reality, are just surviving.
Jill and Julie never realized their brother was struggling, and this has become a common theme among farmers, veterinarians and other impactful individuals in our lives whom we have lost to suicide. They never thought their brother would become a part of the statistic that men make up 80% of suicides. The resounding points of this introduction and the “Weathering the Storm” workshop were “it’s ok to not be ok,” there are resources and people to help you, and you are not alone.
This was our segue into hearing from the Illinois Extension Farm Stress Project. Fellows learned about identifying our own signs of stress but also stress in others. It was a time for us to all share our ideas on how to relieve stress or other tips and tricks as a co-hort. For me, there is nothing better than putting on an audiobook and taking my dog, Molly, for a walk. For others it was curling up with a good book or making their favorite meal after a long day in the field.
Within the class of 2027, I have embraced wearing the hat of advocating for health care in rural communities. Hearing from the National Rural Health Association, I would have never guessed that 62 million Americans live in rural areas and that rural hospitals and their patients are disproportionately covered by insurance versus in more populated areas. The data shared with us was astounding:
Since 2010:
190 rural hospitals have closed.
430 rural hospitals are vulnerable to closing.
46% of rural hospitals are operating on “red margins,” many with barely enough money in the bank to cover a few days of expenses or payroll.
293 rural hospitals no longer offer obstetric care.
424 have ceased offering chemotherapy.
In my head, I was thinking, “How have we gotten here and how do we fix this?” Fewer medical professionals are looking to work in rural hospitals and clinics, resulting in significant workforce shortages. Rural health facilities have fixed costs at lower volumes, while not being able to pay staff the competitive wages seen in more populated areas. Patients in rural areas will also have a lengthier preapproval process for more routine and specialized treatments. There is hope in the Working Families Tax Cut Legislation revisions and also the One Big Beautiful Bill, enhancing and requiring more reporting for rural health facilities.
While I reflected on our short 90 minutes together for Compeer Financial’s Whole Health & Resilient Leadership Seminar, I thought of Tim Stuenkel, my brother, my best friend who recently had a high-risk pregnancy, and those who did not have the resources we have today or those who had resources that came too late.
A quote we heard early in this program was “hungry people make bad decisions.” You do not need to be hungry for food to make bad decisions. You could be hungry for relief from physical pain, mental load, financial burdens, or just be hungry for companionship and understanding when loneliness creeps in.
Rural health is more than just health insurance and convincing farmers to finally go to the doctor. It is checking in on your neighbors, being a villager and being an advocate for rural communities. Advocating for agriculture should be synonymous with advocating for rural America.
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