AMELIA POULIN:
Good afternoon, and thank you for joining us for today's important conversation on communicating effectively about data surveillance and forecasting during infectious disease emergencies. My name is Amelia Poulin, and I'm the Assistant Director of Emerging Infectious Disease at ASTHO. I'll be moderating today's session, which will be recorded and distributed to participants in the coming weeks. This session is part of ASTHO's Inspire Readiness webinar series.
For those who may not be familiar with Inspire Readiness, it's a platform for public health professionals to share insights and solutions that enhance responses to communicable disease outbreaks and disasters, advancing public health preparedness. Inspire Readiness is a public platform available to everyone. We invite you to explore our library of stories and resources to strengthen your agency’s ability to tackle public health challenges with innovative and strategic approaches. A link to the platform will be provided. Keep an eye on the Inspire Readiness webpage in the coming months, as it will be updated to include a new section on communications—highlighting strategies to support health agencies in communicating about data surveillance and forecasting, which are the central themes of today’s webinar.
Our discussion today is designed to equip you—our public health colleagues—with real-world insights to meet challenges head-on. Whether you're involved in health promotion, communications, or community engagement, this conversation is about public health readiness. It’s about the foundational work we can do now to prepare for the inevitable next infectious disease emergency. With the right planning, collaboration, and communication, we can protect the public’s health and restore the trust that is essential to our mission.
Thank you all for the work you do and for being here to strengthen readiness to meet one of the most pressing challenges facing public health today. Let’s get started by introducing our panelists.
Dr. Amanda Simanek is an Associate Professor at the Chicago Medical School and Director of the Michael Reese Foundation Center for Health Equity Research at Rosalind Franklin University. During the COVID-19 pandemic, Dr. Simanek leveraged her training in social epidemiology to translate complex public health guidance into actionable strategies to improve public health through the Dear Pandemic platform, developed by Those Nerdy Girls—a group of women scientists and public health leaders co-founded by Dr. Simanek.
Just a quick disclosure: the views expressed today are our own and do not represent those of the CDC. With that, I’ll hand it over to Dr. Simanek to walk us through the current information environment and key strategies for communicating about data surveillance and forecasting during infectious disease emergencies.
DR. AMANDA SIMANEK:
Thank you, Amelia, and thank you to everyone who has tuned in to today’s webinar. I’m excited to begin with a discussion of what we know about the current health information environment—the challenges people face in trying to understand and consume information—and what we should consider as public health communicators when developing strategies for engagement.
I’ll also share the history behind the social media science communication effort Those Nerdy Girls, how it came about, and the lessons we’ve learned over the past five-plus years. I’ll highlight strategies that have worked well for engaging in public health and science communication.
To wrap up, I hope to include a bit of audience participation—thinking together about the challenges you face, the resources you need, and the opportunities to build better systems and structures to support this work as part of our everyday responsibilities. If time allows, I’ll also take some questions at the end.
To begin, let’s consider the current information environment. The problem of misinformation and disinformation is not new—it has existed for centuries. For example, in 1802, a political cartoon titled The Cow-Pock—or—the Wonderful Effects of the New Inoculation! depicted Edward Jenner administering a cowpox inoculation to a terrified woman, surrounded by people growing cow parts from their bodies. This cartoon was likely circulated in newspapers or posted in taverns to spread disinformation about the inoculation. So, while the medium has changed, the challenge remains.
Technology and social media have dramatically influenced how information spreads. Jonathan Swift, author of Gulliver’s Travels, once said, “Falsehood flies, and the truth comes limping after it.” This is especially true today. Misconceptions, myths, and rumors can spread rapidly across social media, making it difficult to debunk or contain them after the fact. As public health communicators, we must develop strategies that position us to counter misinformation effectively.
During the COVID-19 pandemic, we experienced a crash course in how vital social media is for communicating public health information. It became a key channel for dissemination and consumption. However, we also saw how fragmented the media environment is. Each of us operates within a unique information ecosystem shaped by our values, search history, and social networks. These echo chambers are difficult to escape and must be considered when crafting public health and science communication strategies.
Another thing that became really clear is how, when new public health crises emerge and there are data and information voids, those first few days, weeks, and even moments are critical. They present an opportunity for individuals or groups who wish to spread misinformation to gain a foothold and fill the information environment with false narratives—often while public health agencies are still gathering facts and organizing their response. This is a key challenge we must contend with in our communication efforts.
Now, five years later, even more than at the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, we’re seeing an increasing reliance on artificial intelligence by people seeking health information. This means that the information people access is often a summary of available content, but without much consideration for the source or quality. AI-generated content may be perceived as objective, even though the input data could be biased or incorrect. People are also encountering fake and doctored images and videos, and increasingly relying on chatbots or other AI tools to help make health-related decisions. This was not nearly as prevalent when we launched our campaign.
Another challenge is the sheer volume of information that circulates during a public health crisis. Even when the information is accurate and fact-based, it can be overwhelming. The World Health Organization referred to this phenomenon as an infodemic—a flood of information that co-occurred with the COVID-19 pandemic. It led to information overload, decision fatigue, and a sense of hopelessness among the public, who felt unequipped to sift through the noise and make informed decisions about their health.
We also need to remember that, in addition to the external information environment, each of us has an internal information environment. We all carry cognitive biases that influence how we seek, interpret, and use information. For example, confirmation bias leads us to favor information that aligns with our existing beliefs, while negativity bias makes us more likely to engage with and share content that evokes fear, anxiety, or strong emotions. The COVID-19 pandemic helped us recognize that it’s not just about the information around us—it’s also about how we process and respond to it internally.
So, what can we do?
This graphic from 2017 reflects the frequency of proposed strategies in an open call to combat misinformation, issued by the Knight Foundation, Democracy Fund, and Rita Allen Foundation. Although it predates COVID-19 and was more focused on election-related misinformation, many of the strategies are still relevant today. The size of each circle in the graphic represents how often a strategy was recommended—media literacy, fact-checking, responsible use of digital tools, and civic engagement were among the most common.
What I’ll share next are the strategies we learned on the fly while doing this work, and you’ll see some overlap with those proposed mechanisms.
Before diving into the specific strategies used by Those Nerdy Girls, I want to briefly introduce the origins of our effort, in case you're not familiar—because it really informs the approaches we took.
So, going back to March 5, 2020—when the CDC changed the COVID-19 case definition—Dr. Malia Jones, an Assistant Professor at the University of Wisconsin–Madison and co-founder of what became Those Nerdy Girls, wrote an email to her friends and family. She said, “Hey, I’m an epidemiologist, and this is what I’m going to do with my family. We’re going to stay home. We’re going to wash our hands.” It was very early days, but she offered advice on about eight or ten things she recommended people do.
That email was forwarded well beyond her immediate circle and eventually went viral. It was even published in USA Today. Within days, Malia was receiving hundreds of emails from everyday people saying, “Oh my gosh, if you know what we should be doing, please help me,” and asking her questions. You can imagine how overwhelming that must have been for her. But it’s a great example of the early data and information voids we were facing—and how eager people were for clarity and guidance from someone who stepped up and said, “Here’s what I think we should do.”
Malia reached out to Dr. Alison Buttenheim, a professor at the University of Pennsylvania, and said, “I’m getting inundated with questions—what do I do?” Around that same time, Dr. Phil called and invited her to appear on the show. He wanted her to fly out, but she declined and insisted on doing it remotely.
On March 10, Malia and Alison decided to create a Facebook and Instagram page called Dear Pandemic—a nod to Dear Abby. Their idea was to post answers to the questions they were already fielding, so they could share them more broadly. Friends and family could follow the page, and they wouldn’t have to send 20 separate texts or emails a day.
Malia did end up appearing on Dr. Phil, remotely. And by around March 15, she and Alison realized the questions weren’t slowing down. They reached out to colleagues they had worked or trained with to ask for help. I was one of the people Malia contacted. The idea was that we’d do this for a few weeks—just until the “real experts” stepped in or the situation calmed down. But here we are, five years later, and the effort is still going. I think that speaks to both its utility and success, and also to the ongoing need for this kind of communication as new public health issues continue to emerge.
If you’d like to read the origin story in Malia’s own words, you can scan the QR code here.
Over the past five-plus years, our group—which started with about 10 people and has grown to include over 65 contributors—has posted between 4 and 14 unique content pieces per week. In the early days of the pandemic, we were answering up to three questions a day. Things tapered off as the situation became more manageable.
We started by posting on Facebook and Instagram, and while we may have begun with just a hundred followers—mostly friends and family—our audience grew to thousands over time. We’ve since expanded to other platforms, including Threads, LinkedIn, and Bluesky. A few years ago, we also launched a Substack newsletter, which goes out twice a week and recaps content we’ve posted across our social media channels.
We’ve also produced videos, hosted Facebook Live sessions, and used a variety of other media formats. Everything we’ve posted is archived on our website, thosenerdygirls.org. Early in the pandemic, we even published content in multiple languages. We created a sister site on Facebook called Kita Pandemia, where we translated and wrote original content in Spanish. We had a growing number of followers in Spanish-speaking countries, and it was important to us to increase access to the information we were sharing.
Currently, our monthly reach is around 500,000 people, although during the peak of the pandemic, it was much higher. If you’d like to visit our website, you can use the link or scan the QR code—Victoria has also added it to the chat. On the site, you can search all of our past posts by keyword. This screenshot is a bit outdated; we’re probably closer to 3,000 posts now. You can also browse by topic. For example, we have over 500 posts from our Spanish-language efforts, as well as many posts on COVID-19 variants, mask-wearing, and other key topics.
Early in the pandemic, we added a question box to the website so that people—beyond our friends and family or those messaging us on Facebook—could submit questions directly. I’ll talk more about that later, but to date, we’ve received over 6,000 questions through that platform.
So, who has done all this work?
This slide shows just about a third of our contributing writers. The individuals circled are some of our past “Nerdy Girl in Chief” leaders and executive directors. Our current Executive Director is MK Haber. This is really only a small portion of the people who have contributed, and almost all of this has been a volunteer effort. I could give an entirely separate talk on what it means that this kind of work had to be done through volunteerism—and toward the end of this session, we’ll discuss how we need to build systems, structures, and supports within our organizations to make this kind of communication a supported and integral part of our everyday public health responsibilities. We need to feel well-prepared to do this work without relying solely on volunteer efforts.
That said, this has been an interdisciplinary team. The original 10 of us included nurses, epidemiologists, demographers, social scientists, and over time we added clinicians and other professionals with relevant skill sets to help answer the wide range of questions we received.
Our original goal was to provide factual information about COVID-19 to help people make informed decisions. But we’ve since expanded. Our broader mission now is to help people make better health decisions in general—by providing practical, factual health information. A secondary goal is to help build people’s skills and confidence in navigating health information overall.
And then, feeling confident about when to share that information with others. The Those Nerdy Girls vision is really a world in which everyone has the tools and confidence to make evidence-informed decisions.Okay, so that’s the background. Now I’m going to get into some of the specifics about what we learned and applied as strategies while doing this work.
Hands down, the most important thing is that you need to have a trusted relationship with the people you want to communicate with before a crisis hits. You cannot expect to show up in the middle of an infectious disease outbreak and suddenly be seen as a trusted source of information. Fortunately, we had some of that trust embedded from the start because we were initially answering questions from our own family, friends, neighbors, and school board members. It grew organically—people would say, “Hey, my sister’s an epidemiologist, follow this page,” or “My school board member is part of this, check it out.”
The challenge—and something we’ll return to later—is thinking about what you can do within your organization to build trust with your intended audience before a crisis. Part of that involves really getting to know your audience. We did that through our question box, through reader surveys, and by actively trying to understand the information needs of the people who were turning to us for trusted guidance.
That understanding is key, especially when it comes to being timely and responsive. You can’t meet people’s needs if you don’t know what those needs are.
Another thing that helped us build trust is showing that we are experts—but also human. I’m a scientist, but I’m also a parent, a daughter, and a member of a community. When we answer questions, we don’t just respond as researchers—we share how we’re personally making decisions based on our own circumstances. That helps our readers relate to us and feel that we empathize with them.
We approach communication from a place of empathy, similar to therapeutic communication in nursing. Yes, we are experts, but we also communicate as people.
We’ve also been very intentional about talking about science as a process, not a fixed destination. We acknowledge uncertainty and the fact that our understanding evolves with new evidence. We want people to be comfortable with the idea that science isn’t absolute—it’s iterative. Transparency is a priority.
Many of us are academics or researchers, and we know the fear of having to submit a correction or addendum to a published paper. But in public health communication, you have to be willing to admit when you’re wrong and correct yourself. That’s a key aspect of good journalism, and it’s essential for building trust. For example, early on we said something about taking Tylenol, and it turned out that information was incorrect. We reposted and corrected it. People will trust you if they know you’ll own your mistakes and make them right.
These are some of the ways we’ve worked to foster trust with our audience over time. We’ll revisit this later when we talk about how these strategies might apply in your own workplaces.
I mentioned our question box earlier, but we’ve also engaged in other forms of two-way communication with our readers, which has been pivotal. As I said, we’ve received over 6,000 questions to date. We haven’t answered them all—we’ve published around 3,000 posts—but we’ve read every question. We have dedicated team members who monitor submissions, which helps us keep a pulse on what people are curious about, what misinformation they’re encountering, and what they need help understanding.
It’s been a valuable tool—not just for providing information, but for making people feel heard. Beyond the question box, we also respond to comments and messages on our social media channels. This is labor-intensive. It means keeping comments open and dealing with trolls or people trying to spread disinformation. It requires vigilance and moderation.
But we thank people when they comment or share our posts. If they ask a follow-up question, we try to answer it briefly or link to a relevant post. Our social media pages are very interactive.
And for readers whose questions we do answer, we send them an email to let them know. For example, “Hey, we saw you asked about the new variant or the COVID-19 vaccine guidelines, and we just posted about that.” We actively work to create opportunities for interaction, even though we have hundreds of thousands of followers. We’ve tried to foster meaningful two-way communication.
The next thing I want to talk about is our recognition of the limits of static information.
Before the COVID-19 pandemic, people might have visited the CDC website to look up guidelines or information. But in an emerging public health crisis, that kind of static resource is often insufficient as a primary mode of communication. That’s why we have press conferences, news stories, and other dynamic channels to keep people updated.
What we learned is that there’s a real need to be more responsive than static information allows. A good example of this is the CDC’s definition of exposure to COVID-19. Most of us can probably recite it by heart now: spending more than 15 minutes, less than six feet away from someone over a 24-hour period, in the two days before that person develops symptoms or tests positive.
But what we found is that people had trouble applying that guideline to their specific situations. One of my favorite questions we ever received was:
“If my mom went to the hair salon on Thursday, her stylist had a mask on, my mom didn’t. Then the stylist got symptoms on Saturday. I saw my mom outside, not distanced, but she had a mask on Sunday. Am I exposed? Should I get tested?”
We were one of the few sources where people could ask, “I don’t understand how to apply this guideline to my situation—can you help?” And we could answer that kind of question. Over time, we updated our responses as guidelines changed—quarantine and isolation protocols evolved, vaccines and boosters became available—so what you would do in that same situation might change.
This highlights the gap between static information on a website and how people apply it to everyday life. Public health and science communicators can fill that gap, especially during emerging crises.
We saw the same pattern when we started posting about avian flu. We shared a post summarizing everything we knew at the time, and immediately received questions like:
“Is it okay to eat beef?”
“What about raw cheese?”
“Can I fill my bird feeder?”
“What if my dog eats goose poop on a walk?”
These are not questions you can anticipate or easily include in a list of FAQs. So, building mechanisms to be responsive to people’s real-world questions is a key lesson we learned.
The next lesson I want to talk about is unlearning academic writing.
Most of us—myself included—are used to writing abstracts, reports, white papers, and manuscripts that follow a formula: background, methods, results, discussion. And we often bury the most important part at the end. That’s the opposite of what plain language writing requires for public health and science communication to lay audiences.
You have to lead with the most important message—the single overarching communication objective (SOCO). In our posts, we often include a “Too Long; Didn’t Read” summary: one or two sentences that answer the question directly, followed by the option to read more details.
This is a completely different skill set. You can’t just switch into it—you have to practice and learn how to write this way. We jumped into this work during an emergency and quickly realized how ill-equipped we were to communicate effectively to lay audiences. Thankfully, there are now public health programs that integrate this kind of training, which is great. But if you haven’t been trained in it, there are steps you can take. One great resource is Plain Language for Public Health from the Public Health Communications Collaborative.
Plain language writing means audience-centered writing. It’s not just about writing at an eighth-grade reading level—it’s about knowing who you’re communicating with. Are you talking to fellow parents in a school setting? Older adults? You need to tailor your message accordingly.
It also means writing not just as an expert, but as a human. It involves using infographics and visual tools—things I wasn’t trained in 20 years ago as a public health student. It means diversifying the platforms you use. For example, our newsletter audience is very different from our Facebook or Instagram followers. Knowing your audience helps you choose the right platform.
Sometimes, it also means being a little silly and non-academic in your tone. Early in the pandemic, we heard reports of people having COVID-19 parties—similar to chickenpox parties decades ago. My academic response would have been very different from my gut reaction, which was:
“No! For the love of peanut butter and jelly, please don’t do this.”
Then we followed up with fact-based reasons why it was a bad idea. That post was one of our most widely shared early on because people appreciated the frank, relatable language. Later, we learned that some of those reports were exaggerated or unsubstantiated, so we reposted and clarified:
“Hey, it looks like this may not be happening as much as we thought, but the reasons we gave for not doing it still stand.”
It also means being willing to share personal experiences. In June 2021, my 12-year-old got the Pfizer vaccine. I, along with another Nerdy Girl, shared the side effects they experienced in a post about what to expect. People want to hear from real-life experts who have gone through what they’re about to face. They want both expert insight and human perspective.
We now have a series called Nerdy Notes, which blends science, story, and verse. Nerdy Girls share personal stories, insights, art, poetry, and more. One post was about seeking care for menopause symptoms. Another was about receiving a breast cancer diagnosis and going through screenings. This isn’t academic writing—it’s being both expert and human.
Now, moving into another strategy we’ve used: pre-bunking.
You’ve probably heard of this. It’s not debunking—where you try to clean up misinformation after it spreads. Pre-bunking is about anticipating and brainstorming ahead of time what misinformation might circulate around a topic.
When we knew a new vaccine was going to be introduced—and that it would use a technology unfamiliar to most people—we could anticipate the typical anti-vaccine narratives that would emerge. So we proactively posted content to give people a heads-up:
“You’re probably going to hear X, Y, and Z—but here’s why that’s not accurate.”
In doing so, we aimed to inoculate people—no pun intended—against the types of misinformation they were likely to encounter. This strategy, known as pre-bunking, became a regular part of our approach.
Another strategy we borrowed from journalism is the truth sandwich. This involves starting with fact-based information, acknowledging the misinformation, and then ending again with the fact-based information. It’s a way to ensure the factual content dominates the conversation while still recognizing what people may have heard. There’s a QR code here if you’d like to see an example of that.
We also recognized the importance of addressing the internal information environment—people’s cognitive biases and how they process information. About three years ago, we launched a Data Literacy Squad within Those Nerdy Girls. This subgroup focused on building science and data literacy, helping people become more aware of their own biases and the logical fallacies they might encounter when exposed to misinformation.
We created posts about various cognitive biases and logical fallacies, helping readers become better navigators of health information. We also started posting about general data concepts—things people might encounter in news stories or even scientific literature. For example:
- What is a confounder?
- What does it mean when a headline says, “Eating chocolate ice cream increases longevity”?
(Wishful thinking, of course—but how do we evaluate whether the study adjusted for the right variables?)
These were essentially Public Health 101 or Epidemiology 101 concepts, paired with media literacy tools. We helped readers assess whether a news organization was credible and whether the reporting was trustworthy. If you scan the QR code here, you’ll see examples of the content we created in this area.
Another lesson we learned is that we’re not alone in this work. There are other great organizations doing similar work, and it’s valuable to partner with them or amplify their efforts. We often shared resources from groups like:
- News Literacy Project
- MediaWise
These organizations specialize in building awareness around media and news literacy. We didn’t have to create all the content ourselves—we could share and promote trusted resources.
I’ve mentioned that this is an interdisciplinary effort, but what I haven’t said is that very few of us have ever worked together in person. We’re spread across the United States, and during the early pandemic, we weren’t traveling to meet. We’ve operated for years using a Slack channel and have an internal review process. When someone drafts a post, others review it for clarity, accuracy, and tone. We make sure it’s well fact-checked and that the perspectives—whether from a clinician, nurse, or epidemiologist—are aligned.
It can feel intimidating to do this kind of work. But when you build a team with the interdisciplinary expertise you need, it becomes far less daunting.
The last thing I’ll talk about is being a more proactive partner with media.
Many of you have probably received a call or email from a reporter and thought,
“I don’t have time for this,” or
“I’m not sure I’m the right person.”
At the beginning of the pandemic, there was a real need for experts to step into that role—and we did. To date, Those Nerdy Girls has participated in around 600 to 650 media interviews, with about half of those occurring in the first year of the pandemic.
Many of us were asked by our institutions to serve as media contacts because they were receiving requests for expert commentary. What I learned is that this process doesn’t have to be reactive. You can be proactive by:
- Letting local radio and media outlets know your areas of expertise.
- Creating media content you want to share.
- Reaching out with ideas, rather than only responding to incoming requests.
In fact, many of the graphics we produced ended up in publications. Media outlets linked directly to our Facebook content and posts. We participated in “Ask the Experts” columns in local media and were regular guests on public radio across various states.
So, what can feel intimidating and reactive doesn’t have to be. You can take more control over your media interactions—especially during a crisis.
Now that I’ve shared some of the lessons we learned along the way, I want to shift gears and ask you some questions. Let’s explore how you, in your roles and organizations, can:
- Build trust with your audiences
- Better understand who you’re communicating with
- Engage in two-way communication
- Learn and practice plain language writing
- Develop interdisciplinary teams
- Partner proactively with media
- Become more confident as content creators
We’ll use a few polls to guide this conversation.
Poll 1:
What could you do—or what’s on your wish list—to better know your audience or engage with those you communicate with?
Please scan the QR code or go to slido.com and enter the number listed there. Then type in short phrases or ideas.
I’m seeing some great suggestions:
- Meeting with people in your community in person
- Being present and visible
- Hosting focus groups
- Conducting surveys
These are all excellent ideas. I’m not sure how feasible something like a question box is for everyone, but even having a forum where people can share what information they’re looking for—and what misinformation they’re encountering—can be incredibly valuable.
One thing I didn’t touch on earlier is that our social media effort grew from a fairly homogeneous group of academic researchers. One way to better engage with your community is to include people at the table who are members of that community—people who are representative of those you wish to communicate with. That’s a really important point.
Poll 2:
Who could or should you brainstorm pre-bunking ideas with?
Think about your workplace, your expertise, and who you might need complementary ideas from. Who should you collaborate with to anticipate what misinformation might arise in a crisis?
I’m seeing responses like:
- Community leaders
- Stakeholders
- Subject matter experts
- Faith leaders
- Health educators
- Colleagues
- Health officers
Exactly. Building this into the systems and structures of your organization can make you better prepared to engage in this work. It helps shift the approach from reactive to proactive—planning ahead for what’s likely to come.
Our next question is:
Does your organization offer media training?
At first, we were at 100%, but now it looks like we’re closer to 60%. So maybe it’s about even.
I think many organizations have designated communications staff or departments, but it’s not always top of mind that everyone—especially those with relevant expertise—should have access to media training. During the pandemic, our group did some consulting with media professionals who gave us a crash course in engaging with the press. Several of us were at academic institutions with communications departments, so we had some resources. But for the most part, we jumped in during a crisis.
Sometimes, the loudest voices in media are those spreading misinformation or speaking with false confidence. We realized that we were just as justified in participating in media conversations—and that being a trusted voice matters.
So, if your organization doesn’t currently offer media training, consider raising it during annual retreats or professional development planning. It’s something worth advocating for.
Poll 3:
On a scale from 1 (“I still have a dumb phone”) to 10 (“I have my own YouTube channel”), how comfortable are you creating content on social media?
Looks like someone does have a YouTube channel! But overall, responses are skewing toward lower confidence levels.
This speaks to the importance of interdisciplinary teams—not just across expertise, but across age and generation. It took us time to bring in people who were true experts in social media strategy. Now, we have a dedicated crew of three or four Nerdy Girls who focus exclusively on translating our material for social media.
So, not everyone needs to be an expert in this area. But through media training and by identifying colleagues who are more comfortable in these spaces, you can build teams that are equipped to communicate effectively across platforms.
Again, this is another area where you can request support or training from your department.
That wraps up the polls. We have a few minutes left for questions.
I want to acknowledge all of our Nerdy Girl writers and readers who have contributed to this effort—especially co-founder Malia Jones, with whom I presented a similar talk at the Wisconsin Public Health Association meeting about a year and a half ago. I also want to thank contributors Rupa Sashradri and Gail Mendoza, who joined me in presenting a version of this talk at the Association of Public Health Laboratories’ ID LabCon meeting in March.
On the next slide, you’ll find links to five publications we’ve authored, with another in progress. These include detailed lessons learned and two analyses of our question box submissions. At the time of those studies, we had received about 3,000 questions, which we analyzed using qualitative and topic modeling methods to identify trends in the information people were seeking during the early stages of the COVID-19 pandemic.
AMELIA POULIN:
Thank you so much for that presentation. We’ll now switch gears to the Q&A session. I’ve seen a lot of applause and kudos in the chat—just want to pass that on.
With the time remaining, feel free to drop questions in the chat. We already have a couple to get started with.
Q: If someone is just starting out in public health, what’s one small thing they can do to get better at communicating data?
A: Practice. Pick a scientific or public health concept and try explaining it to your neighbor. Literally write it down or say it out loud—practice communicating to a lay audience when the stakes are low. That way, you’re not starting from scratch during a crisis.
Q: How do you handle giving guidance when health departments in various states differ? Who do you see as your guiding source—CDC or someone else?
A: Our contributors are from many different states, so we typically refer to CDC and national guidelines. But when answering questions from specific states, we also look at state-level guidance. It’s important to acknowledge both to provide accurate and relevant answers.
Q: Have you considered integrating AI into your answering systems—like using Amazon search or similar tools to reduce the effort of writing posts?
A: A couple of years ago, we experimented with tools like ChatGPT. We’d ask it to explain COVID-19 vaccines as if talking to a neighbor—just to see if it could replicate our tone and style. And while the responses were surprisingly good, we still had to fact-check everything. So, while AI can help, it doesn’t fully replace the need for human oversight and expertise.
Even though AI tools like ChatGPT can generate surprisingly good responses in plain language, we still had to fact-check everything. We had to go back and make sure the answers were accurate and well-vetted. So, in the end, it wasn’t a strategy we adopted widely—but that’s not to say there isn’t space for it in the future.
Q: Did you work with or consult any communication experts during your journey? If so, who?
A: Yes, although I don’t recall specific names offhand. Some of us had connections to communications and media experts, and we did participate in a few trainings. We also consulted existing resources, like the Public Health Communications Collaborative and materials from the World Health Organization. I want to give special credit to Malia Jones, who helped document and create a guidebook for new contributors to Those Nerdy Girls. She spearheaded efforts to codify our approach and best practices.
Q: How do you implement “getting to know the community” before a crisis—especially when it’s not part of your formal job description?
A: That’s a really important point. It’s unfair to expect a health department or organization to respond effectively to a crisis if there hasn’t been investment and buy-in ahead of time. This means building bridges between your communications and community engagement teams—those efforts shouldn’t be siloed. It also means prioritizing this work with budget and resources, and intentionally seeking out what your community wants to know. It’s not automatic—it has to be intentional.
AMELIA POULIN:
Thank you so much for all the thoughtful questions. I’ll ask Victoria to put up the evaluation slide. As science-oriented folks, we love an evaluation—so please use the QR code or the link in the chat to let us know how this session went for you.
Once you’ve completed the evaluation, we’ll adjourn. Thank you again to everyone who participated, asked questions, and shared insights. And thank you for hosting me—I'm happy to take questions offline or by email if you have more.