Good morning, everyone.
Thank you all so much for being here—and for being part of the Harvard T.H. Chan School family.
To our distinguished faculty and staff, thank you for your tireless work to make today possible.
To the families and friends who’ve joined us from all over the world, thank you … for the sacrifices you’ve made to be here … and for all the love and support you’ve offered the graduates throughout their journey. No one gets here alone. This day is yours too—and you deserve a round of applause.
And to our Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health Class of 2019: Congratulations! You made it!
It’s hard not to beam with pride looking out at all of you. This is a class of distinction on so many levels.
Altogether, 606 of you are receiving degrees. You come from all over the globe – from 55 countries and 37 U.S. states, plus the District of Columbia.
And 365 women will walk across this stage to receive their diplomas.
That fact holds a special significance today. It’s a testament to how far we’ve come—as a university, as a field, and as a society.
After all, it was exactly 100 years ago this spring that Alice Hamilton, a renowned industrial health expert, was named an assistant professor at Harvard Medical School. She was the first female faculty member in university history. At the time, Harvard didn’t even admit female students.
The New York Tribune lauded the occasion with a headline that read “A Woman on Harvard Faculty—The Last Citadel Has Fallen—The Sex Has Come Into Its Own.
Yes, Hamilton’s appointment was an extraordinary milestone. But it came with a fair share of skeptics—and more than a few restrictions.
For starters, she was barred from the male-only Faculty Club. She couldn’t get tickets to the Harvard football games. And she was asked not to “embarrass” the university by taking part in academic ceremonies like this one.
Now, you might ask yourself what would possess Hamilton to pursue a career in which she’d encounter such disregard—even disdain—as a woman. In her autobiography, she humbly explained:
“I chose medicine, not because I was scientifically-minded, for I was deeply ignorant of science. I chose it because as a doctor, I could go anywhere I pleased—to far off lands or city slums—and be quite sure I could be of use anywhere.”
And “go anywhere” she did—even when it raised eyebrows, even when it was uncomfortable.
As a young woman, she moved into Hull-House, a settlement for working-class immigrant families in the neglected Nineteenth Ward of Chicago. She wanted to understand the daily reality of the poor living and working conditions they faced—and to put her medical training to use however she could.
While living there, she opened the settlement’s first well-clinic for infants and young children. She scoured the surrounding neighborhood, investigating the root cause of typhoid fever and tuberculosis, diseases that plagued the community—and she educated mothers about prevention.
Hamilton’s years at Hull-House were formative.
“Life in a settlement does several things to you,” she would later say. “Among others, it teaches you that education and culture have little to do with real wisdom, the wisdom that comes from life experiences.”
That realization—that you have to truly understand the lived experience of other people in order to make a difference in their lives—became the north star that guided her remarkable career.
Long before she came to Harvard, Hamilton spent decades researching industrial health on the ground, observing workers in what she called “the dangerous trades”—the lead and enamelware industries, rubber production, and explosives manufacturing, to name a few.
She descended into mines, she visited hospital wards, and she talked her way onto factory floors—all to better understand the hazards of these jobs. In the process, she became a leading authority on industrial diseases.
But Hamilton wasn’t content to merely prove that these occupational dangers existed. She didn’t stop at collecting field notes, analyzing data, or writing up reports. Instead, she used those findings to sound the alarm—and fight for much-needed safety standards.
It’s hard to overstate the impact Alice Hamilton had on the nascent field of occupational health—and the well-being of industrial workers across the country. Her research and advocacy helped to shape scores of state and federal policies, including the landmark Occupational Safety and Health Act of 1970, which was signed into law three months after she died at age 101.
A century after she first set foot on this campus, the influence of Hamilton’s life’s work still ripples across our community.
Today, the Education and Resource Center for Occupational Health and Safety is training the next generation of leaders to address the health risks facing the modern workforce.
And I think I can’t help but think how proud she would be of our own Dr. Diana Ceballos, who is investigating hazard exposure in a variety of industries, particularly those that employ vulnerable populations.
Dr. Ceballos teaches a class called “Introduction to the Work Environment,” and her students aren’t just learning about occupational hazards—they’re spreading their knowledge in the most effective way possible: Wikipedia.
They’ve contributed evidence-based, factual content on risks in a range of workplace settings, from electronic waste processing facilities to the U.S. Air Force.
But perhaps Alice Hamilton’s greatest contribution was the doors she pried open—and the example she set—for those who followed.
Graduates like Jasmine Hall, who today receives a master’s in public health neuropsychiatric epidemiology. Jasmine grew up in Flint, Michigan, in a neighborhood that lacked necessities like fresh, healthy food and green spaces. Her community was further traumatized by the water crisis. Jasmine plans to return to Flint, degree in hand, to study the sociodemographic, genetic, and environmental influences that affect mental and neurological health—and to better the well-being of her community.
And graduates like Angel Rosario. Angel was recognized as “gifted and talented” at a young age, which helped him land a spot at an accelerated middle school on the Upper West Side—a world away from his home in Harem. Angel saw the vast disparities rooted in race, poverty, homophobia and language differences first-hand—and, now, his goal is to help eliminate them by working to make U.S. and global health systems more equitable.
We also see Hamilton’s influence reflected in the extraordinary women who are leading our field today—and improving health and wellbeing across our communities.
Women like our special guest, Cecile Richards, who has helped expand health care access to millions of American women, particularly in rural and underserved communities. We are so delighted to have Ms. Richards here with us today.
And women like Kate Nordahl, a beloved member of the Harvard Chan School family, who tragically passed away last April.
At the Blue Cross Blue Shield of Massachusetts Foundation, Kate served as the Senior Director of Coverage and oversaw the Massachusetts Medicaid Policy Institute. She also directed the Foundation’s Massachusetts Health Reform Survey, tracking trends in health care access and affordability.
So many of us have been touched by Kate’s life—by her passion for helping people and her dedication to improving health care across the state.
Alice Hamilton’s spirit endures in today’s generation of public health visionaries in a profound way: she fundamentally changed the way we think about our mission.
She impressed on us that public health is about more than academics; it’s about activism.
And that is the lesson that I hope each of you will take with you as you make your way in the world.
Because today we know that our health doesn’t just affect every aspect of our lives; every aspect of our lives affects our health.
The air we breathe and the water we drink …
The foods we consume …
Our access to vaccines and preventative care …
How much we exercise and our proximity to green spaces …
The strength of our social connections …
The quality of our schools and the safety of workplaces …
Our economic security …
Whether we suffer discrimination, emotional trauma, or violence …
All of these factors shape the quality of our lives and the health of our communities.
And we know that large-scale change—in the environments we live, the behaviors we practice, and the policies that shape our everyday realities—will not happen on its own.
So it’s up to us to make sure that our work is not confined to laboratories or research clinics. That our discoveries don’t languish in white papers or journals. It’s up to us to use what we learn to not only change hearts and minds—but to change outcomes.
I encourage each of you to think about your role in public health through that lens, whether you stay in academia, go into government, or join the non-profit or private sector.
No matter where you’re headed, today you leave here with a diploma and a knowledge base that will take you far. You have an amazing foundation that will help you think critically and find solutions to even our most complex problems.
I hope that you’ll remember what got you into this work in the first place and what you seek to accomplish. Remember the problems you felt compelled to solve and the lives you felt called to improve.
And I hope you’ll venture out of the hallowed halls of institutions like this one to do it. Break out of your comfort zones. Immerse yourselves in new environments. Get your hands dirty. Talk directly with the people you wish to serve—and listen. Get to know their lives and their needs intimately.
That will allow you to observe things you’d never see from afar, to understand things you never could from a distance. That’s how you’ll go from academic to advocate.
Only then that you’ll truly realize the power you hold to make change. And in the end, that is what each of us is called to this field to do.
Decades after Alice Hamilton first set foot on this campus, and long after she’d retired, she looked back on her extraordinary life—on all the places she’d traveled and the body of work she’d contributed—and she had this to say: “For me, the satisfaction is that things are better now. And I had some part in it.”
Each of you started your own journey in public health because you dared to envision a healthier, more just world. I am so proud of you for reaching this first milestone in that pursuit—and for the ways in which I know that each of you, too, will have a profound part in realizing that vision.
It is an honor to serve as your Dean and to take this journey with you. Thank you, and congratulations!
Photo: Josh Levine