On an unseasonably warm day in February, two men working with a local community group went door to door in an ethnically diverse neighborhood to persuade people to sign up for COVID-19 vaccinations.

It was just after 11 a.m. when they encountered the first person reluctant to get a shot. Two doors down and 30 minutes later, it happened again. For nearly an hour, they stood on a front lawn with George Rodriguez, 67, chatting about the neighborhood, the pandemic and the available vaccines.

“I see all this stuff online, about how it’s going to change my DNA. It does something to your DNA, right?” asked Rodriguez, who is Hispanic. “There is just too much stuff out, too much conflicting information. And then I hear that even if you get the vaccine you can still get sick. Why would I get it, then?”

Black and Hispanic communities, which were hit harder by the pandemic and whose vaccination rates are lagging that for white people, are confronting vaccine conspiracy theories, rumors and misleading news reports on social media outlets like Facebook, Instagram, YouTube and Twitter and in private online messaging, health authorities and misinformation researchers said.

The misinformation varies, like claims that vaccines can alter DNA — which is not true — and that the vaccines do not work, or that people of color are being used as guinea pigs. A good part of this incorrect information comes from friends, family and celebrities, bubbling up in communities that have been hit particularly hard by the pandemic and facing other hurdles to getting vaccinated.

Foreign news outlets and anti-vaccine activists have also aggressively tried to cast doubt on the safety and efficacy of vaccines made in the United States and Europe.

Misinformation has complicated efforts by some states to reach out to Black and Hispanic residents, particularly when health officials have provided special registration codes for vaccine appointments. Instead of a benefit, in some cases the codes have become the basis for new false narratives.

“What might look like, on the surface, as doctors prioritizing communities of color is being read by some people online as ‘Oh, those doctors want us to go first to be the guinea pigs,’” said Kolina Koltai, a researcher at the University of Washington who studies online conspiracy theories. “I’ve seen people on Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, Clubhouse — you name it — saying the codes are a way to force the vaccine on communities of color as an experiment.”

Research conducted by the nonprofit Kaiser Family Foundation in mid-February showed a striking disparity between racial groups receiving the vaccine in 34 states that reported the data.

The state figures vary widely. In Texas, where people who identify as Hispanic make up 42% of the population, only 20% of the vaccinations had gone to that group. In Mississippi, where Black people make up 38% of the population, they received 22% of the vaccinations. According to an analysis by The New York Times, the vaccination rate for Black Americans is half that of white people, and the gap for Hispanic people is even larger.

While researchers say a lack of easy access to vaccine sites could be the biggest driver of that shortfall, misinformation is playing a role.

The belief that doctors are interested in experimenting on certain communities has deep roots among some groups, Koltai said. Anti-vaccine activists have drawn on historical examples, including Nazi doctors who ran experiments in concentration camps, and the Baltimore hospital where, 70 years ago, cancer cells were collected from Henrietta Lacks, a Black mother of five, without her consent.

“The thing about misinformation is that it works best when it is built around a kernel of truth. In this case, many communities of color don’t trust the medical establishment because they don’t have the best history with it,” said Shireen Mitchell, founder of Stop Online Violence Against Women, a group that supports women of color who are harassed online.

An experiment conducted in 1943 on nearly 400 Black men in Tuskegee, Alabama, is one of the most researched examples of medical mistreatment of the Black community. Over four decades, scientists observed the men, whom they knew were infected with syphilis, but did not offer treatments so that they could study the disease’s progression. When the experiment came to light in the 1970s, it was condemned by the medical community as a major violation of ethical standards.

Researchers who study disinformation followed mentions of Tuskegee on social media over the last year. While Tuskegee averaged several hundred mentions a week on Facebook and Twitter, there were several noticeable spikes that coincided with the introduction of COVID-19 vaccines, according to Zignal Labs, a media insights company.

The final week of November, when pharmaceutical companies Moderna and Pfizer announced promising results in their final studies on the safety of their COVID-19 vaccines, mentions of Tuskegee climbed to 7,000 a week.

There was another lull until mid-December, when the Food and Drug Administration announced it had given emergency approval to the vaccines. Mentions of Tuskegee climbed to nearly 5,000 that week, according to Zignal, with some of the most viral tweets calling the coronavirus vaccines “the New Tuskegee study.”

Doctors say they are battling vaccine hesitancy in other demographic groups, as well. Last month, a poll by the NORC Center for Public Affairs Research found that 23% of Republicans said they would “definitely” not get vaccinated, while 21% said they “probably” would not get a coronavirus vaccine.

Native American groups have been battling vaccine fears in their communities, and doctors have reported that some of their Chinese American patients have been bringing in articles in Chinese-language media outlets questioning vaccines made in the U.S.

Many Black and Hispanic people were already struggling to make appointments and reach vaccination sites that are often in whiter, wealthier neighborhoods. And officials in some cities say that people from those neighborhoods also have been flooding vaccination appointment systems and taking supply intended for poorer Black and Hispanic residents.

Misinformation about who is allowed to receive the vaccine, when it is available and how it was safety tested has added even more difficulty, Mitchell said.

At a mass vaccination site at the Oakland Coliseum in Oakland, California, on a recent Friday afternoon, before 68-year-old Anthony Jones agreed to get his shot last month, there was just one last thing he wanted to look up on Facebook. He pulled out his phone and started to tap, waving off his grandson, who had driven him to his appointment.

“I read something about a woman who died from this thing, and I want to know if she was Black,” said Jones, who after several minutes of scrolling could not find the Facebook post he was looking for. “You see a lot of stuff on the internet which makes you think, as a Black man, you should not be taking this vaccine.”

Jones eventually gave up. As he was walking in for his shot he remembered the article he had seen was on WhatsApp, which is owned by Facebook, and from a website he did not recognize.

“My grandson tells me not to believe everything I read on the internet,” he said. “I like to believe my grandson.”

The next day, Daniel Lander, 38, was canvassing a neighborhood in San Jose with Armand Mateos, 28. For the last five months, Lander has been going door to door in a program managed by Working Partnerships USA, a community organization based in Silicon Valley. The group is working with local county officials to help dispel misinformation about the pandemic and vaccines.

“We hear people say that they saw this or that celebrity sharing something on Twitter or Instagram that made them think the vaccine was a bad idea. People value the opinion of people they look up to, and these celebrities have a lot of influence,” Lander said.

As they chatted with Rodriguez, a muscular man and an enthusiastic talker, Lander and Mateos said they sympathized with his concerns. They said they had a lot of the same questions, and explained their decision to get the vaccines themselves. Rodriguez asked where they got their shots and how it made them feel.

Mateos reflexively touched his left arm, where he had received the vaccine in recent weeks. It hurt, he said, and he wasn’t going to sugarcoat it. But he was convinced that it was safe and that it would keep him and his loved ones from getting sick.

“They’ve read all this stuff online, from different news sources, which is confusing. But then they meet me, as someone who has had the shot, and I can give them some real answers,” Mateos said. He added that many people cited articles in the Spanish-language versions of Russian state-backed media networks, Sputnik and Russia Today. “They are very down on the American vaccines. People read those stories and don’t want to get the shot.”

As the two men were leaving, Rodriguez yelled out that he would get the shot that week. They made sure he had the phone number and websites he needed to register, and continued down the street.

“I think I will get it later this week,” Rodriguez said. “I don’t make promises, but I think that they’ve convinced me.”

On an unseasonably warm day in February, two men working with a local community group went door to door in an ethnically diverse neighborhood to persuade people to sign up for COVID-19 vaccinations.

On an unseasonably warm day in February, two men working with a local community group went door to door in an ethnically diverse neighborhood to persuade people to sign up for COVID-19 vaccinations. It was just after 11 a.m. when they encountered the first person reluctant to get a shot. Two doors down and 30 minutes later, it happened again. For nearly an hour, they stood on a front lawn with George Rodriguez, 67, chatting about the neighborhood, the pandemic and the available vaccines. “I see all this stuff online, about how it’s going to change my DNA. It does something to your DNA, right?” asked Rodriguez, who is Hispanic. “There is just too much stuff out, too much conflicting information. And then I hear that even if you get the vaccine you can still get sick. Why would I get it, then?” Black and Hispanic communities, which were hit harder by the pandemic and whose vaccination rates are lagging that for white people, are confronting vaccine conspiracy theories, rumors and misleading news reports on social media outlets like Facebook, Instagram, YouTube and Twitter and in private online messaging, health authorities and misinformation researchers said. The misinformation varies, like claims that vaccines can alter DNA — which is not true — and that the vaccines do not work, or that people of color are being used as guinea pigs. A good part of this incorrect information comes from friends, family and celebrities, bubbling up in communities that have been hit particularly hard by the pandemic and facing other hurdles to getting vaccinated. Foreign news outlets and anti-vaccine activists have also aggressively tried to cast doubt on the safety and efficacy of vaccines made in the United States and Europe. Misinformation has complicated efforts by some states to reach out to Black and Hispanic residents, particularly when health officials have provided special registration codes for vaccine appointments. Instead of a benefit, in some cases the codes have become the basis for new false narratives. “What might look like, on the surface, as doctors prioritizing communities of color is being read by some people online as ‘Oh, those doctors want us to go first to be the guinea pigs,’” said Kolina Koltai, a researcher at the University of Washington who studies online conspiracy theories. “I’ve seen people on Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, Clubhouse — you name it — saying the codes are a way to force the vaccine on communities of color as an experiment.” Research conducted by the nonprofit Kaiser Family Foundation in mid-February showed a striking disparity between racial groups receiving the vaccine in 34 states that reported the data. The state figures vary widely. In Texas, where people who identify as Hispanic make up 42% of the population, only 20% of the vaccinations had gone to that group. In Mississippi, where Black people make up 38% of the population, they received 22% of the vaccinations. According to an analysis by The New York Times, the vaccination rate for Black Americans is half that of white people, and the gap for Hispanic people is even larger. While researchers say a lack of easy access to vaccine sites could be the biggest driver of that shortfall, misinformation is playing a role. The belief that doctors are interested in experimenting on certain communities has deep roots among some groups, Koltai said. Anti-vaccine activists have drawn on historical examples, including Nazi doctors who ran experiments in concentration camps, and the Baltimore hospital where, 70 years ago, cancer cells were collected from Henrietta Lacks, a Black mother of five, without her consent. “The thing about misinformation is that it works best when it is built around a kernel of truth. In this case, many communities of color don’t trust the medical establishment because they don’t have the best history with it,” said Shireen Mitchell, founder of Stop Online Violence Against Women, a group that supports women of color who are harassed online. An experiment conducted in 1943 on nearly 400 Black men in Tuskegee, Alabama, is one of the most researched examples of medical mistreatment of the Black community. Over four decades, scientists observed the men, whom they knew were infected with syphilis, but did not offer treatments so that they could study the disease’s progression. When the experiment came to light in the 1970s, it was condemned by the medical community as a major violation of ethical standards. Researchers who study disinformation followed mentions of Tuskegee on social media over the last year. While Tuskegee averaged several hundred mentions a week on Facebook and Twitter, there were several noticeable spikes that coincided with the introduction of COVID-19 vaccines, according to Zignal Labs, a media insights company. The final week of November, when pharmaceutical companies Moderna and Pfizer announced promising results in their final studies on the safety of their COVID-19 vaccines, mentions of Tuskegee climbed to 7,000 a week. There was another lull until mid-December, when the Food and Drug Administration announced it had given emergency approval to the vaccines. Mentions of Tuskegee climbed to nearly 5,000 that week, according to Zignal, with some of the most viral tweets calling the coronavirus vaccines “the New Tuskegee study.” Doctors say they are battling vaccine hesitancy in other demographic groups, as well. Last month, a poll by the NORC Center for Public Affairs Research found that 23% of Republicans said they would “definitely” not get vaccinated, while 21% said they “probably” would not get a coronavirus vaccine. Native American groups have been battling vaccine fears in their communities, and doctors have reported that some of their Chinese American patients have been bringing in articles in Chinese-language media outlets questioning vaccines made in the U.S. Many Black and Hispanic people were already struggling to make appointments and reach vaccination sites that are often in whiter, wealthier neighborhoods. And officials in some cities say that people from those neighborhoods also have been flooding vaccination appointment systems and taking supply intended for poorer Black and Hispanic residents. Misinformation about who is allowed to receive the vaccine, when it is available and how it was safety tested has added even more difficulty, Mitchell said. At a mass vaccination site at the Oakland Coliseum in Oakland, California, on a recent Friday afternoon, before 68-year-old Anthony Jones agreed to get his shot last month, there was just one last thing he wanted to look up on Facebook. He pulled out his phone and started to tap, waving off his grandson, who had driven him to his appointment. “I read something about a woman who died from this thing, and I want to know if she was Black,” said Jones, who after several minutes of scrolling could not find the Facebook post he was looking for. “You see a lot of stuff on the internet which makes you think, as a Black man, you should not be taking this vaccine.” Jones eventually gave up. As he was walking in for his shot he remembered the article he had seen was on WhatsApp, which is owned by Facebook, and from a website he did not recognize. “My grandson tells me not to believe everything I read on the internet,” he said. “I like to believe my grandson.” The next day, Daniel Lander, 38, was canvassing a neighborhood in San Jose with Armand Mateos, 28. For the last five months, Lander has been going door to door in a program managed by Working Partnerships USA, a community organization based in Silicon Valley. The group is working with local county officials to help dispel misinformation about the pandemic and vaccines. “We hear people say that they saw this or that celebrity sharing something on Twitter or Instagram that made them think the vaccine was a bad idea. People value the opinion of people they look up to, and these celebrities have a lot of influence,” Lander said. As they chatted with Rodriguez, a muscular man and an enthusiastic talker, Lander and Mateos said they sympathized with his concerns. They said they had a lot of the same questions, and explained their decision to get the vaccines themselves. Rodriguez asked where they got their shots and how it made them feel. Mateos reflexively touched his left arm, where he had received the vaccine in recent weeks. It hurt, he said, and he wasn’t going to sugarcoat it. But he was convinced that it was safe and that it would keep him and his loved ones from getting sick. “They’ve read all this stuff online, from different news sources, which is confusing. But then they meet me, as someone who has had the shot, and I can give them some real answers,” Mateos said. He added that many people cited articles in the Spanish-language versions of Russian state-backed media networks, Sputnik and Russia Today. “They are very down on the American vaccines. People read those stories and don’t want to get the shot.” As the two men were leaving, Rodriguez yelled out that he would get the shot that week. They made sure he had the phone number and websites he needed to register, and continued down the street. “I think I will get it later this week,” Rodriguez said. “I don’t make promises, but I think that they’ve convinced me.”

Black and hispanic communities grapple with vaccine misinformation

Hispanics are more interested in voting this year than in the last US congressional midterm elections in 2014 and their enthusiasm outpaces that of all US adults, according to a Reuters/Ipsos national tracking poll released on Sunday.

The poll also found likely Hispanic voters nearly twice as inclined to support Democrats for the House of Representatives as Republicans in Tuesday's elections.

Voter registration groups are using Republican President Donald Trump's nationalist, anti-immigrant rhetoric as an opportunity to drive up Latino enthusiasm. In an illustration of their passion, one group that is part of an alliance that has reached out to more than 1 million potential voters in Arizona took its name from the Spanish word for "fight."

Most opinion polls and political handicappers expect Democrats to win the 23 seats they need to assume control of the House. Republicans are favoured to keep control of the Senate.

Latinos could play a crucial role in several races, from tight Senate battles in Arizona and Texas to Florida's close Senate and governor's races. In California, the flourishing Latino population has helped put in play some Republican-controlled House districts Democrats hope to flip.

The Reuters/Ipsos poll, taken September 1 to October 29, found that 36 per cent of Hispanic voters said they were "certain" to vote, up from 27 per cent in 2014. That increase is nearly double the five percentage point rise in voter enthusiasm among all Americans over the same period, the poll showed.

Enthusiasm appears especially high among Hispanic Democrats.

Forty-two per cent of Hispanic Democrats said they were "certain" to vote, up from 29 per cent in 2014. Among likely Hispanic voters, 60 per cent said they will vote for a Democratic candidate for the House, and 32 per cent would back a Republican.

Hispanics are a politically diverse group, with 55 per cent of likely voters identifying as Democrats, 31 per cent as Republicans and 12 per cent as independent, the poll showed.

Just over half, 53 per cent, of likely Hispanic voters said they were "very motivated" to pick a candidate for Congress who opposes Trump, compared with 43 per cent of all likely voters, 75 per cent of likely Democratic voters and 9 per cent of likely Republican voters.

'GET YOUR VOICE HEARD'

For candidates in border states with large Hispanic populations such as Arizona, a fundamental question is whether Latino voters will turn up in large numbers on Tuesday.

The voting bloc has long held potential for the Democratic Party but often disappoints. Record-low Hispanic turnout in 2014 was a warning sign for both parties.

Bea Nevarez hopes to turn that around, registering 800 people to vote this year. In the final days before the elections, she went door-to-door to encourage people to vote in Tucson.

Nevarez, 18, works for a group called "Lucha," a Spanish word meaning "struggle" or "fight." It is a partisan affiliate of One Arizona, a broad alliance that says it has knocked on 1.5 million doors in the state this year, part of a broad grassroots effort to reverse declining Latino participation. One Arizona says it has registered 200,000 voters this year.

"I'm out here trying to get your voice heard," Nevarez tells reluctant voters.

Her persistence paid off when she knocked on the door of Jose Alberto and Norma Moreno, Mexican immigrants who are now US citizens.

Sitting at his kitchen table, Jose Alberto Moreno, 62, at first told Nevarez he had no intention of voting.

"I don't believe in any of that. All politicians are liars," said Moreno, who works at a furniture warehouse.

But Nevarez insisted, engaging him in a conversation that eventually turned to healthcare, Moreno's main concern. After a few minutes, he agreed to vote.

"I'm going to do it now. She convinced me," Moreno said.

The Republican National Committee said it has also reached out to voters in Arizona this year, as part of a drive in 11 states.

America's 29 million Latinos account for nearly 13 per cent of eligible voters this year, but their turnout rate has declined since 2006, according to the Pew Research Center. Only 27 per cent of eligible Latinos voted in the last midterm elections in 2014, and only 16 per cent of those aged 18 to 35, Pew said.

Some activists said they were motivated by watching Joe Arpaio, a former Arizona sheriff whose anti-immigrant policies brought his office multi-million-dollar penalties for racial profiling and eventually a contempt of court conviction.

He maintained that the prosecution was political, aimed at helping oust him from office. Trump later pardoned him.

"We have seen an igniting of fear, division and violence under this (Trump) administration, but that's not new to Arizona," said Alejandra Gomez, a co-executive director of Lucha. "We had the original Trump here under Arpaio."

Hispanics are more interested in voting this year than in the last US congressional midterm elections in 2014 and their enthusiasm outpaces that of all US adults, according to a Reuters/Ipsos national tracking poll released on Sunday.

Hispanics are more interested in voting this year than in the last US congressional midterm elections in 2014 and their enthusiasm outpaces that of all US adults, according to a Reuters/Ipsos national tracking poll released on Sunday. The poll also found likely Hispanic voters nearly twice as inclined to support Democrats for the House of Representatives as Republicans in Tuesday's elections. Voter registration groups are using Republican President Donald Trump's nationalist, anti-immigrant rhetoric as an opportunity to drive up Latino enthusiasm. In an illustration of their passion, one group that is part of an alliance that has reached out to more than 1 million potential voters in Arizona took its name from the Spanish word for "fight." Most opinion polls and political handicappers expect Democrats to win the 23 seats they need to assume control of the House. Republicans are favoured to keep control of the Senate. Latinos could play a crucial role in several races, from tight Senate battles in Arizona and Texas to Florida's close Senate and governor's races. In California, the flourishing Latino population has helped put in play some Republican-controlled House districts Democrats hope to flip. The Reuters/Ipsos poll, taken September 1 to October 29, found that 36 per cent of Hispanic voters said they were "certain" to vote, up from 27 per cent in 2014. That increase is nearly double the five percentage point rise in voter enthusiasm among all Americans over the same period, the poll showed. Enthusiasm appears especially high among Hispanic Democrats. Forty-two per cent of Hispanic Democrats said they were "certain" to vote, up from 29 per cent in 2014. Among likely Hispanic voters, 60 per cent said they will vote for a Democratic candidate for the House, and 32 per cent would back a Republican. Hispanics are a politically diverse group, with 55 per cent of likely voters identifying as Democrats, 31 per cent as Republicans and 12 per cent as independent, the poll showed. Just over half, 53 per cent, of likely Hispanic voters said they were "very motivated" to pick a candidate for Congress who opposes Trump, compared with 43 per cent of all likely voters, 75 per cent of likely Democratic voters and 9 per cent of likely Republican voters. 'GET YOUR VOICE HEARD' For candidates in border states with large Hispanic populations such as Arizona, a fundamental question is whether Latino voters will turn up in large numbers on Tuesday. The voting bloc has long held potential for the Democratic Party but often disappoints. Record-low Hispanic turnout in 2014 was a warning sign for both parties. Bea Nevarez hopes to turn that around, registering 800 people to vote this year. In the final days before the elections, she went door-to-door to encourage people to vote in Tucson. Nevarez, 18, works for a group called "Lucha," a Spanish word meaning "struggle" or "fight." It is a partisan affiliate of One Arizona, a broad alliance that says it has knocked on 1.5 million doors in the state this year, part of a broad grassroots effort to reverse declining Latino participation. One Arizona says it has registered 200,000 voters this year. "I'm out here trying to get your voice heard," Nevarez tells reluctant voters. Her persistence paid off when she knocked on the door of Jose Alberto and Norma Moreno, Mexican immigrants who are now US citizens. Sitting at his kitchen table, Jose Alberto Moreno, 62, at first told Nevarez he had no intention of voting. "I don't believe in any of that. All politicians are liars," said Moreno, who works at a furniture warehouse. But Nevarez insisted, engaging him in a conversation that eventually turned to healthcare, Moreno's main concern. After a few minutes, he agreed to vote. "I'm going to do it now. She convinced me," Moreno said. The Republican National Committee said it has also reached out to voters in Arizona this year, as part of a drive in 11 states. America's 29 million Latinos account for nearly 13 per cent of eligible voters this year, but their turnout rate has declined since 2006, according to the Pew Research Center. Only 27 per cent of eligible Latinos voted in the last midterm elections in 2014, and only 16 per cent of those aged 18 to 35, Pew said. Some activists said they were motivated by watching Joe Arpaio, a former Arizona sheriff whose anti-immigrant policies brought his office multi-million-dollar penalties for racial profiling and eventually a contempt of court conviction. He maintained that the prosecution was political, aimed at helping oust him from office. Trump later pardoned him. "We have seen an igniting of fear, division and violence under this (Trump) administration, but that's not new to Arizona," said Alejandra Gomez, a co-executive director of Lucha. "We had the original Trump here under Arpaio."

Ready for a fight: Voter enthusiasm surges among US Hispanics

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Black and hispanic communities grapple with vaccine misinformation

Ready for a fight: Voter enthusiasm surges among US Hispanics