Community And Public Health Intervention Program Using The Concept Of Food Desert And The Novel “The Hate You Give”.
Community And Public Health Intervention Program Using The Concept Of Food Desert And The Novel “The Hate You Give”.
Task 1.
1. 200 words – Provide a brief overview of the concept of food desert as it relates to urban community. What impact does food desert and access to healthy foods have on population health, within urban communities?
2. 200 words – Consider the character Nurse Lisa in the book “The Hate You Give”. Consider how the concept of food desert affect her and her family? For example, as a nurse within an underserved urban community her role is to advocate for the health and wellbeing of her clients and community members. What methods/ education can she provide to her clients to increase their access to health good choice when there is limited supplies?
3. 200 words – Consider the novel “The Hate You Give” relate the novel and it setting to the concept of food desert.
4. 100 words – How would a community health nurse or public health official address the issue of food desert?
5. 100 words – What key stakeholders within the community would the official speak to and coordinate with to resolve this problem?
6. 100 words – Provide at least 3 community programs (interventions) that could be established to resolve the problem of food desert?
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7. 200 words – How would you coordinate these interventions? What is the most important aspect of the program intervention? Consider (funding, needs assessment, policy developments etc.)?
Task 2.
1. 200 words- What are the determinants of health? How does the determinants of health impact health outcome within underserved urban communities?
2. 200 words- Of the many detriments of health which do you think is the most impactful and why? how does the determinants of health relate to the book “The Hate You Give”? provide example?
Respond to the questions above in APA 7th format.
Each question MUST have subheadings.
Provide at least 7 scholarly resources including the book “The Hate You Give” and the attached textbook.
TheHateUGivebyThomasAngie.epub1.pdf
CommunityPublicHealthNursingEvidenceforPracticeThirdNorth.pdf
DEDICATION
For Grandma, who showed me there can be light in the darkness
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CONTENTS
Dedication
Part 1: When It Happens One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen
Part 2: Five Weeks After It Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen
Part 3: Eight Weeks After It Twenty
Part 4: Ten Weeks After It
Twenty-One
Part 5: Thirteen Weeks After It—The Decision Twenty-Two Twenty-Three Twenty-Four Twenty-Five Twenty-Six
Acknowledgments Back Ad About the Author Credits Copyright About the Publisher
PART 1
WHEN IT HAPPENS
ONE
I shouldn’t have come to this party. I’m not even sure I belong at this party. That’s not on some bougie shit,
either. There are just some places where it’s not enough to be me. Either version of me. Big D’s spring break party is one of those places.
I squeeze through sweaty bodies and follow Kenya, her curls bouncing past her shoulders. A haze lingers over the room, smelling like weed, and music rattles the floor. Some rapper calls out for everybody to Nae-Nae, followed by a bunch of “Heys” as people launch into their own versions. Kenya holds up her cup and dances her way through the crowd. Between the headache from the loud-ass music and the nausea from the weed odor, I’ll be amazed if I cross the room without spilling my drink.
We break out the crowd. Big D’s house is packed wall-to-wall. I’ve always heard that everybody and their momma comes to his spring break parties—well, everybody except me—but damn, I didn’t know it would be this many people. Girls wear their hair colored, curled, laid, and slayed. Got me feeling basic as hell with my ponytail. Guys in their freshest kicks and sagging pants grind so close to girls they just about need condoms. My nana likes to say that spring brings love. Spring in Garden Heights doesn’t always bring love, but it promises babies in the winter. I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of them are conceived the night of Big D’s party. He always has it on the Friday of spring break because you need Saturday to recover and Sunday to repent.
“Stop following me and go dance, Starr,” Kenya says. “People already say you think you all that.”
“I didn’t know so many mind readers lived in Garden Heights.” Or that people know me as anything other than “Big Mav’s daughter who works in the store.” I sip my drink and spit it back out. I knew there would be more
than Hawaiian Punch in it, but this is way stronger than I’m used to. They shouldn’t even call it punch. Just straight-up liquor. I put it on the coffee table and say, “Folks kill me, thinking they know what I think.”
“Hey, I’m just saying. You act like you don’t know nobody ’cause you go to that school.”
I’ve been hearing that for six years, ever since my parents put me in Williamson Prep. “Whatever,” I mumble.
“And it wouldn’t kill you to not dress like . . .” She turns up her nose as she looks from my sneakers to my oversized hoodie. “That. Ain’t that my brother’s hoodie?”
Our brother’s hoodie. Kenya and I share an older brother, Seven. But she and I aren’t related. Her momma is Seven’s momma, and my dad is Seven’s dad. Crazy, I know. “Yeah, it’s his.”
“Figures. You know what else people saying too. Got folks thinking you’re my girlfriend.”
“Do I look like I care what people think?” “No! And that’s the problem!” “Whatever.” If I’d known following her to this party meant she’d be on
some Extreme Makeover: Starr Edition mess, I would’ve stayed home and watched Fresh Prince reruns. My Jordans are comfortable, and damn, they’re new. That’s more than some people can say. The hoodie’s way too big, but I like it that way. Plus, if I pull it over my nose, I can’t smell the weed.
“Well, I ain’t babysitting you all night, so you better do something,” Kenya says, and scopes the room. Kenya could be a model, if I’m completely honest. She’s got flawless dark-brown skin—I don’t think she ever gets a pimple—slanted brown eyes, and long eyelashes that aren’t store-bought. She’s the perfect height for modeling too, but a little thicker than those toothpicks on the runway. She never wears the same outfit twice. Her daddy, King, makes sure of that.
Kenya is about the only person I hang out with in Garden Heights—it’s hard to make friends when you go to a school that’s forty-five minutes away and you’re a latchkey kid who’s only seen at her family’s store. It’s easy to hang out with Kenya because of our connection to Seven. She’s messy as hell sometimes, though. Always fighting somebody and quick to say her daddy will whoop somebody’s ass. Yeah, it’s true, but I wish she’d stop
picking fights so she can use her trump card. Hell, I could use mine too. Everybody knows you don’t mess with my dad, Big Mav, and you definitely don’t mess with his kids. Still, you don’t see me going around starting shit.