The Biden administration wants to make it easier for Americans to get dental care. But don’t try booking an appointment just yet.

A new regulation out this month allows states to include adult dental care as a benefit that health insurers must cover under the Affordable Care Act. Following record ACA enrollment this year, the proposal represents an election-year aspiration for the future of Obamacare: It doesn’t require states to do anything, even as it shows off President Biden’s intention to make the ACA a more robust safety net.

“It’s huge, really significant,” said Colin Reusch, director of policy at Community Catalyst, a health coverage advocacy group. He said the new Biden administration rule represents “one of the first real changes” to coverage provisions of the law since it passed in 2010.

But like so much in health care, expanding access to dental services is a lot more complicated than it sounds.

An estimated 68.5 million U.S. adults lacked dental insurance in 2023, according to the nonprofit CareQuest Institute for Oral Health. That’s more than 2.5 times the roughly 26 million Americans of all ages who lack health insurance.

And millions of Americans lost dental coverage in the past year as part of the Medicaid “unwinding” that dropped low-income people who had been covered by the program during the pandemic.

At the same time, untreated dental disease is estimated to cost the United States more than $45 billion in lost productivity annually, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, and it’s linked to a long list of even more serious health problems, including heart disease and diabetes.

Still, efforts to expand U.S. dental coverage have long foundered on the shoals of cost. When people have dental insurance, they tend to use it. So including the coverage in a health insurance policy can raise overall premiums.

That’s one reason traditional Medicare coverage explicitly excludes most dental care. (Many private Medicare Advantage plans offer some dental coverage as an enticement for seniors to join.)

An effort to add a dental benefit to Medicare was stripped from Biden’s “Build Back Better” legislation before it was passed in 2022 as the Inflation Reduction Act. Instead, the administration clarified and expanded the limited circumstances in which Medicare can cover dental care. Any progress on oral health — including giving states the option to require coverage for adults — is seen by advocates as a victory. Dental coverage for children is already an essential benefit under the ACA.

But whether they actually get coverage depends on states affirmatively adding dental benefits to benchmark plans in the ACA’s insurance marketplaces. Those plans not only determine what services Affordable Care Act insurance has to cover, but also set parameters for state-employee and many private-employer health plans.

Reusch said a few states are considering the change, but it will be a while until anything is certain. States have until May 2025 to decide whether to add dental care to benchmark ACA plans; the benefit wouldn’t be effective until the 2027 plan year.

This article is not available for syndication due to republishing restrictions. If you have questions about the availability of this or other content for republication, please contact NewsWeb@kff.org.

Julie Rovner:
jrovner@kff.org,
@jrovner

Private Medicaid health plans lost millions of members in the past year as pandemic protections that prohibited states from dropping anyone from the government program expired.

But despite Medicaid’s unwinding, as it’s known, at least two of the five largest publicly traded companies selling plans have continued to increase revenue from the program, according to their latest earnings reports.

“It’s a very interesting paradox,” said Andy Schneider, a research professor at Georgetown University’s McCourt School of Public Policy, of plans’ Medicaid revenue increasing despite enrollment drops.

Medicaid, the state-federal health program for low-income and disabled people, is administered by states. But most people enrolled in the program get their health care through insurers contracted by states, including UnitedHealthcare, Centene, and Molina.

The companies persuaded states to pay them more money per Medicaid enrollee under the assumption that younger and healthier people were dropping out — presumably for Obamacare coverage or employer-based health insurance, or because they didn’t see the need to get coverage — leaving behind an older and sicker population to cover, their executives have told investors.

Several of the companies reported that states have made midyear and retrospective changes in their payments to plans to account for the worsening health status of members.

In an earnings call with analysts on April 25, Molina Healthcare CEO Joe Zubretsky said 19 states increased their payment rates this year to adjust for sicker Medicaid enrollees. “States have been very responsive,” Zubretsky said. “We couldn’t be more pleased with the way our state customers have responded to having rates be commensurate with normal cost trends and trends that have been influenced by the acuity shift.”

Health plans have faced much uncertainty during the Medicaid unwinding, as states began reassessing enrollees’ eligibility and dropping those deemed no longer qualified or who lost coverage because of procedural errors. Before the unwinding, plans said they expected the overall risk profile of their members to go up because those remaining in the program would be sicker.

UnitedHealthcare, Centene, and Molina had Medicaid revenue increases ranging from 3% to 18% in 2023, according to KFF. The two other large Medicaid insurers, Elevance and CVS Health, do not break out Medicaid-specific revenue.

The Medicaid enrollment of the five companies collectively declined by about 10% from the end of March 2023 through the end of December 2023, from 44.2 million people to 39.9 million, KFF data shows.

In the first quarter of 2024, UnitedHealth’s Medicaid revenue rose to $20.5 billion, up from $18.8 billion in the same quarter of 2023.

Molina on April 24 reported nearly $7.5 billion in Medicaid revenue in the first quarter of 2024, up from $6.3 billion in the same quarter a year earlier.

On April 26, Centene reported that its Medicaid enrollment fell 18.5% to 13.3 million in the first quarter of 2024 compared with the same period a year ago. The company’s Medicaid revenue dipped 3% to $22.2 billion.

Unlike UnitedHealthcare, whose Medicaid enrollment fell to 7.7 million in March 2024 from 8.4 million a year prior, Molina’s Medicaid enrollment rose in the first quarter of 2024 to 5.1 million from 4.8 million in March 2023. Molina’s enrollment jump last year was partly a result of its having bought a Medicaid plan in Wisconsin and gained a new Medicaid contract in Iowa, the company said in its earnings news release.

Molina added 1 million members because states were prohibited from terminating Medicaid coverage during the pandemic. The company has lost 550,000 of those people during the unwinding and expects to lose an additional 50,000 by June.

About 90% of Molina Medicaid members have gone through the redetermination process, Zubretsky said.

The corporate giants also offset the enrollment losses by getting more Medicaid money from states, which they use to pass on higher payments to certain facilities or providers, Schneider said. By holding the money temporarily, the companies can count these “directed payments” as revenue.

Medicaid health plans were big winners during the pandemic after the federal government prohibited states from dropping people from the program, leading to a surge in enrollment to about 93 million Americans.

States made efforts to limit health plans’ profits by clawing back some payments above certain thresholds, said Elizabeth Hinton, an associate director at KFF.

But once the prohibition on dropping Medicaid enrollees was lifted last spring, the plans faced uncertainty. It was unclear how many people would lose coverage or when it would happen. Since the unwinding began, more than 20 million people have been dropped from the rolls.

Medicaid enrollees’ health care costs were lower during the pandemic, and some states decided to exclude pandemic-era cost data as they considered how to set payment rates for 2024. That provided yet another win for the Medicaid health plans.

Most states are expected to complete their Medicaid unwinding processes this year.

Phil Galewitz:
pgalewitz@kff.org,
@philgalewitz

CHARLESTON, S.C. — When he recently walked into the dental clinic at the Medical University of South Carolina donning a bright-blue pullover with “In Our DNA SC” embroidered prominently on the front, Lee Moultrie said, two Black women stopped him to ask questions.

“It’s a walking billboard,” said Moultrie, a health care advocate who serves on the community advisory board for In Our DNA SC, a study underway at the university that aims to enroll 100,000 South Carolinians — including a representative percentage of Black people — in genetics research. The goal is to better understand how genes affect health risks such as cancer and heart disease.

Moultrie, who is Black and has participated in the research project himself, used the opportunity at the dental clinic to encourage the women to sign up and contribute their DNA. He keeps brochures about the study in his car and at the barbershop he visits weekly for this reason. It’s one way he wants to help solve a problem that has plagued the field of genetics research for decades: The data is based mostly on DNA from white people.

Project leaders in Charleston told KFF Health News in 2022 that they hoped to enroll participants who reflect the demographic diversity of South Carolina, where just under 27% of residents identify as Black or African American. To date, though, they’ve failed to hit that mark. Only about 12% of the project’s participants who provided sociodemographic data identify as Black, while an additional 5% have identified as belonging to another racial minority group.

“We’d like to be a lot more diverse,” acknowledged Daniel Judge, principal investigator for the study and a cardiovascular genetics specialist at the Medical University of South Carolina.

Lack of diversity in genetics research has real health care implications. Since the completion more than 20 years ago of the Human Genome Project, which mapped most human genes for the first time, close to 90% of genomics studies have been conducted using DNA from participants of European descent, research shows. And while human beings of all races and ancestries are more than 99% genetically identical, even small differences in genes can spell big differences in health outcomes.

In Our DNA SC requires participants to complete an online consent form and submit a saliva sample, either in person at a designated lab or collection event or by mail. Moultrie said he recently asked project leaders to reach out to African American media outlets throughout the Palmetto State to explain how the genetics research project works and to encourage Black people to participate.(Gavin McIntyre for KFF Health News)

“Precision medicine” is a term used to describe how genetics can improve the way diseases are diagnosed and treated by considering a person’s DNA, environment, and lifestyle. But if this emerging field of health care is based on research involving mostly white people, “it could lead to mistakes, unknowingly,” said Misa Graff, an associate professor in epidemiology at the University of North Carolina and a genetics researcher.

In fact, that’s already happening. In 2016, for example, research found that some Black patients had been misdiagnosed with a potentially fatal heart condition because they’d tested positive for a genetic variant thought to be harmful. That variant is much more common among Black Americans than white Americans, the research found, and is considered likely harmless among Black people. Misclassifications can be avoided if “even modest numbers of people from diverse populations are included in sequence databases,” the authors wrote.

The genetics research project in Charleston requires participants to complete an online consent form and submit a saliva sample, either in person at a designated lab or collection event or by mail. They are not paid to participate, but they do receive a report outlining their DNA results. Those who test positive for a genetic marker linked to cancer or high cholesterol are offered a virtual appointment with a genetics counselor free of charge.

Some research projects require more time from their volunteers, which can skew the pool of participants, Graff said, because not everyone has the luxury of free time. “We need to be even more creative in how we obtain people to help contribute to studies,” she said.

Moultrie said he recently asked project leaders to reach out to African American media outlets throughout the Palmetto State to explain how the genetics research project works and to encourage Black people to participate. He also suggested that when researchers talk to Black community leaders, such as church pastors, they ought to persuade those leaders to enroll in the study instead of simply passing the message along to their congregations.

“We have new ideas. We have ways we can do this,” Moultrie said. “We’ll get there.”

Other ongoing efforts are already improving diversity in genetics research. At the National Institutes of Health, a program called “All of Us” aims to analyze the DNA of more than 1 million people across the country to build a diverse health database. So far, that program has enrolled more than 790,000 participants. Of these, more than 560,000 have provided DNA samples and about 45% identify as being part of a racial or ethnic minority group.

“Diversity is so important,” said Karriem Watson, chief engagement officer for the All of Us research program. “When you think about groups that carry the greatest burden of disease, we know that those groups are often from minoritized populations.”

Diverse participation in All of Us hasn’t come about by accident. NIH researchers strategically partnered with community health centers, faith-based groups, and Black fraternities and sororities to recruit people who have been historically underrepresented in biomedical research.

In South Carolina, for example, the NIH works with Cooperative Health, a network of federally qualified health centers near the state capital that serve many patients who are uninsured and Black, to recruit patients for All of Us. Eric Schlueter, chief medical officer of Cooperative Health, said the partnership works because their patients trust them.

“We have a strong history of being integrated into the community. Many of our employees grew up and still live in the same communities that we serve,” Schlueter said. “That is what is part of our secret sauce.”

So far, Cooperative Health has enrolled almost 3,000 people in the research program, about 70% of whom are Black.

“Our patients are just like other patients,” Schlueter said. “They want to be able to provide an opportunity for their children and their children’s children to have better health, and they realize this is an opportunity to do that.”

Theoretically, researchers at the NIH and the Medical University of South Carolina may be trying to recruit some of the same people for their separate genetics studies, although nothing would prevent a patient from participating in both efforts.

The researchers in Charleston acknowledge they still have work to do. To date, In Our DNA SC has recruited about half of the 100,000 people it hopes for, and of those, about three-quarters have submitted DNA samples.

Caitlin Allen, a program investigator and a public health researcher at the medical university, acknowledged that some of the program’s tactics haven’t succeeded in recruiting many Black participants.

For example, some patients scheduled to see providers at the Medical University of South Carolina receive an electronic message through their patient portal before an appointment, which includes information about participating in the research project. But studies show that racial and ethnic minorities are less likely to engage with their electronic health records than white patients, Allen said.

“We see low uptake” with that strategy, she said, because many of the people researchers are trying to engage likely aren’t receiving the message.

The study involves four research coordinators trained to take DNA samples, but there’s a limit to how many people they can talk to face-to-face. “We’re not necessarily able to go into every single room,” Allen said.

That said, in-person community events seem to work well for enrolling diverse participants. In March, In Our DNA SC research coordinators collected more than 30 DNA samples at a bicentennial event in Orangeburg, South Carolina, where more than 60% of residents identify as Black. Between the first and second year of the research project, Allen said, In Our DNA SC doubled the number of these community events that research coordinators attended.

“I would love to see it ramp up even more,” she said.

Lauren Sausser:
lsausser@kff.org,
@laurenmsausser

CHARLESTON, S.C. — When he recently walked into the dental clinic at the Medical University of South Carolina donning a bright-blue pullover with “In Our DNA SC” embroidered prominently on the front, Lee Moultrie said, two Black women stopped him to ask questions.

“It’s a walking billboard,” said Moultrie, a health care advocate who serves on the community advisory board for In Our DNA SC, a study underway at the university that aims to enroll 100,000 South Carolinians — including a representative percentage of Black people — in genetics research. The goal is to better understand how genes affect health risks such as cancer and heart disease.

Moultrie, who is Black and has participated in the research project himself, used the opportunity at the dental clinic to encourage the women to sign up and contribute their DNA. He keeps brochures about the study in his car and at the barbershop he visits weekly for this reason. It’s one way he wants to help solve a problem that has plagued the field of genetics research for decades: The data is based mostly on DNA from white people.

Project leaders in Charleston told KFF Health News in 2022 that they hoped to enroll participants who reflect the demographic diversity of South Carolina, where just under 27% of residents identify as Black or African American. To date, though, they’ve failed to hit that mark. Only about 12% of the project’s participants who provided sociodemographic data identify as Black, while an additional 5% have identified as belonging to another racial minority group.

“We’d like to be a lot more diverse,” acknowledged Daniel Judge, principal investigator for the study and a cardiovascular genetics specialist at the Medical University of South Carolina.

Lack of diversity in genetics research has real health care implications. Since the completion more than 20 years ago of the Human Genome Project, which mapped most human genes for the first time, close to 90% of genomics studies have been conducted using DNA from participants of European descent, research shows. And while human beings of all races and ancestries are more than 99% genetically identical, even small differences in genes can spell big differences in health outcomes.

In Our DNA SC requires participants to complete an online consent form and submit a saliva sample, either in person at a designated lab or collection event or by mail. Moultrie said he recently asked project leaders to reach out to African American media outlets throughout the Palmetto State to explain how the genetics research project works and to encourage Black people to participate.(Gavin McIntyre for KFF Health News)

“Precision medicine” is a term used to describe how genetics can improve the way diseases are diagnosed and treated by considering a person’s DNA, environment, and lifestyle. But if this emerging field of health care is based on research involving mostly white people, “it could lead to mistakes, unknowingly,” said Misa Graff, an associate professor in epidemiology at the University of North Carolina and a genetics researcher.

In fact, that’s already happening. In 2016, for example, research found that some Black patients had been misdiagnosed with a potentially fatal heart condition because they’d tested positive for a genetic variant thought to be harmful. That variant is much more common among Black Americans than white Americans, the research found, and is considered likely harmless among Black people. Misclassifications can be avoided if “even modest numbers of people from diverse populations are included in sequence databases,” the authors wrote.

The genetics research project in Charleston requires participants to complete an online consent form and submit a saliva sample, either in person at a designated lab or collection event or by mail. They are not paid to participate, but they do receive a report outlining their DNA results. Those who test positive for a genetic marker linked to cancer or high cholesterol are offered a virtual appointment with a genetics counselor free of charge.

Some research projects require more time from their volunteers, which can skew the pool of participants, Graff said, because not everyone has the luxury of free time. “We need to be even more creative in how we obtain people to help contribute to studies,” she said.

Moultrie said he recently asked project leaders to reach out to African American media outlets throughout the Palmetto State to explain how the genetics research project works and to encourage Black people to participate. He also suggested that when researchers talk to Black community leaders, such as church pastors, they ought to persuade those leaders to enroll in the study instead of simply passing the message along to their congregations.

“We have new ideas. We have ways we can do this,” Moultrie said. “We’ll get there.”

Other ongoing efforts are already improving diversity in genetics research. At the National Institutes of Health, a program called “All of Us” aims to analyze the DNA of more than 1 million people across the country to build a diverse health database. So far, that program has enrolled more than 790,000 participants. Of these, more than 560,000 have provided DNA samples and about 45% identify as being part of a racial or ethnic minority group.

“Diversity is so important,” said Karriem Watson, chief engagement officer for the All of Us research program. “When you think about groups that carry the greatest burden of disease, we know that those groups are often from minoritized populations.”

Diverse participation in All of Us hasn’t come about by accident. NIH researchers strategically partnered with community health centers, faith-based groups, and Black fraternities and sororities to recruit people who have been historically underrepresented in biomedical research.

In South Carolina, for example, the NIH works with Cooperative Health, a network of federally qualified health centers near the state capital that serve many patients who are uninsured and Black, to recruit patients for All of Us. Eric Schlueter, chief medical officer of Cooperative Health, said the partnership works because their patients trust them.

“We have a strong history of being integrated into the community. Many of our employees grew up and still live in the same communities that we serve,” Schlueter said. “That is what is part of our secret sauce.”

So far, Cooperative Health has enrolled almost 3,000 people in the research program, about 70% of whom are Black.

“Our patients are just like other patients,” Schlueter said. “They want to be able to provide an opportunity for their children and their children’s children to have better health, and they realize this is an opportunity to do that.”

Theoretically, researchers at the NIH and the Medical University of South Carolina may be trying to recruit some of the same people for their separate genetics studies, although nothing would prevent a patient from participating in both efforts.

The researchers in Charleston acknowledge they still have work to do. To date, In Our DNA SC has recruited about half of the 100,000 people it hopes for, and of those, about three-quarters have submitted DNA samples.

Caitlin Allen, a program investigator and a public health researcher at the medical university, acknowledged that some of the program’s tactics haven’t succeeded in recruiting many Black participants.

For example, some patients scheduled to see providers at the Medical University of South Carolina receive an electronic message through their patient portal before an appointment, which includes information about participating in the research project. But studies show that racial and ethnic minorities are less likely to engage with their electronic health records than white patients, Allen said.

“We see low uptake” with that strategy, she said, because many of the people researchers are trying to engage likely aren’t receiving the message.

The study involves four research coordinators trained to take DNA samples, but there’s a limit to how many people they can talk to face-to-face. “We’re not necessarily able to go into every single room,” Allen said.

That said, in-person community events seem to work well for enrolling diverse participants. In March, In Our DNA SC research coordinators collected more than 30 DNA samples at a bicentennial event in Orangeburg, South Carolina, where more than 60% of residents identify as Black. Between the first and second year of the research project, Allen said, In Our DNA SC doubled the number of these community events that research coordinators attended.

“I would love to see it ramp up even more,” she said.

Lauren Sausser:
lsausser@kff.org,
@laurenmsausser

CHARLESTON, S.C. — When he recently walked into the dental clinic at the Medical University of South Carolina donning a bright-blue pullover with “In Our DNA SC” embroidered prominently on the front, Lee Moultrie said, two Black women stopped him to ask questions.

“It’s a walking billboard,” said Moultrie, a health care advocate who serves on the community advisory board for In Our DNA SC, a study underway at the university that aims to enroll 100,000 South Carolinians — including a representative percentage of Black people — in genetics research. The goal is to better understand how genes affect health risks such as cancer and heart disease.

Moultrie, who is Black and has participated in the research project himself, used the opportunity at the dental clinic to encourage the women to sign up and contribute their DNA. He keeps brochures about the study in his car and at the barbershop he visits weekly for this reason. It’s one way he wants to help solve a problem that has plagued the field of genetics research for decades: The data is based mostly on DNA from white people.

Project leaders in Charleston told KFF Health News in 2022 that they hoped to enroll participants who reflect the demographic diversity of South Carolina, where just under 27% of residents identify as Black or African American. To date, though, they’ve failed to hit that mark. Only about 12% of the project’s participants who provided sociodemographic data identify as Black, while an additional 5% have identified as belonging to another racial minority group.

“We’d like to be a lot more diverse,” acknowledged Daniel Judge, principal investigator for the study and a cardiovascular genetics specialist at the Medical University of South Carolina.

Lack of diversity in genetics research has real health care implications. Since the completion more than 20 years ago of the Human Genome Project, which mapped most human genes for the first time, close to 90% of genomics studies have been conducted using DNA from participants of European descent, research shows. And while human beings of all races and ancestries are more than 99% genetically identical, even small differences in genes can spell big differences in health outcomes.

In Our DNA SC requires participants to complete an online consent form and submit a saliva sample, either in person at a designated lab or collection event or by mail. Moultrie said he recently asked project leaders to reach out to African American media outlets throughout the Palmetto State to explain how the genetics research project works and to encourage Black people to participate.(Gavin McIntyre for KFF Health News)

“Precision medicine” is a term used to describe how genetics can improve the way diseases are diagnosed and treated by considering a person’s DNA, environment, and lifestyle. But if this emerging field of health care is based on research involving mostly white people, “it could lead to mistakes, unknowingly,” said Misa Graff, an associate professor in epidemiology at the University of North Carolina and a genetics researcher.

In fact, that’s already happening. In 2016, for example, research found that some Black patients had been misdiagnosed with a potentially fatal heart condition because they’d tested positive for a genetic variant thought to be harmful. That variant is much more common among Black Americans than white Americans, the research found, and is considered likely harmless among Black people. Misclassifications can be avoided if “even modest numbers of people from diverse populations are included in sequence databases,” the authors wrote.

The genetics research project in Charleston requires participants to complete an online consent form and submit a saliva sample, either in person at a designated lab or collection event or by mail. They are not paid to participate, but they do receive a report outlining their DNA results. Those who test positive for a genetic marker linked to cancer or high cholesterol are offered a virtual appointment with a genetics counselor free of charge.

Some research projects require more time from their volunteers, which can skew the pool of participants, Graff said, because not everyone has the luxury of free time. “We need to be even more creative in how we obtain people to help contribute to studies,” she said.

Moultrie said he recently asked project leaders to reach out to African American media outlets throughout the Palmetto State to explain how the genetics research project works and to encourage Black people to participate. He also suggested that when researchers talk to Black community leaders, such as church pastors, they ought to persuade those leaders to enroll in the study instead of simply passing the message along to their congregations.

“We have new ideas. We have ways we can do this,” Moultrie said. “We’ll get there.”

Other ongoing efforts are already improving diversity in genetics research. At the National Institutes of Health, a program called “All of Us” aims to analyze the DNA of more than 1 million people across the country to build a diverse health database. So far, that program has enrolled more than 790,000 participants. Of these, more than 560,000 have provided DNA samples and about 45% identify as being part of a racial or ethnic minority group.

“Diversity is so important,” said Karriem Watson, chief engagement officer for the All of Us research program. “When you think about groups that carry the greatest burden of disease, we know that those groups are often from minoritized populations.”

Diverse participation in All of Us hasn’t come about by accident. NIH researchers strategically partnered with community health centers, faith-based groups, and Black fraternities and sororities to recruit people who have been historically underrepresented in biomedical research.

In South Carolina, for example, the NIH works with Cooperative Health, a network of federally qualified health centers near the state capital that serve many patients who are uninsured and Black, to recruit patients for All of Us. Eric Schlueter, chief medical officer of Cooperative Health, said the partnership works because their patients trust them.

“We have a strong history of being integrated into the community. Many of our employees grew up and still live in the same communities that we serve,” Schlueter said. “That is what is part of our secret sauce.”

So far, Cooperative Health has enrolled almost 3,000 people in the research program, about 70% of whom are Black.

“Our patients are just like other patients,” Schlueter said. “They want to be able to provide an opportunity for their children and their children’s children to have better health, and they realize this is an opportunity to do that.”

Theoretically, researchers at the NIH and the Medical University of South Carolina may be trying to recruit some of the same people for their separate genetics studies, although nothing would prevent a patient from participating in both efforts.

The researchers in Charleston acknowledge they still have work to do. To date, In Our DNA SC has recruited about half of the 100,000 people it hopes for, and of those, about three-quarters have submitted DNA samples.

Caitlin Allen, a program investigator and a public health researcher at the medical university, acknowledged that some of the program’s tactics haven’t succeeded in recruiting many Black participants.

For example, some patients scheduled to see providers at the Medical University of South Carolina receive an electronic message through their patient portal before an appointment, which includes information about participating in the research project. But studies show that racial and ethnic minorities are less likely to engage with their electronic health records than white patients, Allen said.

“We see low uptake” with that strategy, she said, because many of the people researchers are trying to engage likely aren’t receiving the message.

The study involves four research coordinators trained to take DNA samples, but there’s a limit to how many people they can talk to face-to-face. “We’re not necessarily able to go into every single room,” Allen said.

That said, in-person community events seem to work well for enrolling diverse participants. In March, In Our DNA SC research coordinators collected more than 30 DNA samples at a bicentennial event in Orangeburg, South Carolina, where more than 60% of residents identify as Black. Between the first and second year of the research project, Allen said, In Our DNA SC doubled the number of these community events that research coordinators attended.

“I would love to see it ramp up even more,” she said.

Lauren Sausser:
lsausser@kff.org,
@laurenmsausser

CHARLESTON, S.C. — When he recently walked into the dental clinic at the Medical University of South Carolina donning a bright-blue pullover with “In Our DNA SC” embroidered prominently on the front, Lee Moultrie said, two Black women stopped him to ask questions.

“It’s a walking billboard,” said Moultrie, a health care advocate who serves on the community advisory board for In Our DNA SC, a study underway at the university that aims to enroll 100,000 South Carolinians — including a representative percentage of Black people — in genetics research. The goal is to better understand how genes affect health risks such as cancer and heart disease.

Moultrie, who is Black and has participated in the research project himself, used the opportunity at the dental clinic to encourage the women to sign up and contribute their DNA. He keeps brochures about the study in his car and at the barbershop he visits weekly for this reason. It’s one way he wants to help solve a problem that has plagued the field of genetics research for decades: The data is based mostly on DNA from white people.

Project leaders in Charleston told KFF Health News in 2022 that they hoped to enroll participants who reflect the demographic diversity of South Carolina, where just under 27% of residents identify as Black or African American. To date, though, they’ve failed to hit that mark. Only about 12% of the project’s participants who provided sociodemographic data identify as Black, while an additional 5% have identified as belonging to another racial minority group.

“We’d like to be a lot more diverse,” acknowledged Daniel Judge, principal investigator for the study and a cardiovascular genetics specialist at the Medical University of South Carolina.

Lack of diversity in genetics research has real health care implications. Since the completion more than 20 years ago of the Human Genome Project, which mapped most human genes for the first time, close to 90% of genomics studies have been conducted using DNA from participants of European descent, research shows. And while human beings of all races and ancestries are more than 99% genetically identical, even small differences in genes can spell big differences in health outcomes.

In Our DNA SC requires participants to complete an online consent form and submit a saliva sample, either in person at a designated lab or collection event or by mail. Moultrie said he recently asked project leaders to reach out to African American media outlets throughout the Palmetto State to explain how the genetics research project works and to encourage Black people to participate.(Gavin McIntyre for KFF Health News)

“Precision medicine” is a term used to describe how genetics can improve the way diseases are diagnosed and treated by considering a person’s DNA, environment, and lifestyle. But if this emerging field of health care is based on research involving mostly white people, “it could lead to mistakes, unknowingly,” said Misa Graff, an associate professor in epidemiology at the University of North Carolina and a genetics researcher.

In fact, that’s already happening. In 2016, for example, research found that some Black patients had been misdiagnosed with a potentially fatal heart condition because they’d tested positive for a genetic variant thought to be harmful. That variant is much more common among Black Americans than white Americans, the research found, and is considered likely harmless among Black people. Misclassifications can be avoided if “even modest numbers of people from diverse populations are included in sequence databases,” the authors wrote.

The genetics research project in Charleston requires participants to complete an online consent form and submit a saliva sample, either in person at a designated lab or collection event or by mail. They are not paid to participate, but they do receive a report outlining their DNA results. Those who test positive for a genetic marker linked to cancer or high cholesterol are offered a virtual appointment with a genetics counselor free of charge.

Some research projects require more time from their volunteers, which can skew the pool of participants, Graff said, because not everyone has the luxury of free time. “We need to be even more creative in how we obtain people to help contribute to studies,” she said.

Moultrie said he recently asked project leaders to reach out to African American media outlets throughout the Palmetto State to explain how the genetics research project works and to encourage Black people to participate. He also suggested that when researchers talk to Black community leaders, such as church pastors, they ought to persuade those leaders to enroll in the study instead of simply passing the message along to their congregations.

“We have new ideas. We have ways we can do this,” Moultrie said. “We’ll get there.”

Other ongoing efforts are already improving diversity in genetics research. At the National Institutes of Health, a program called “All of Us” aims to analyze the DNA of more than 1 million people across the country to build a diverse health database. So far, that program has enrolled more than 790,000 participants. Of these, more than 560,000 have provided DNA samples and about 45% identify as being part of a racial or ethnic minority group.

“Diversity is so important,” said Karriem Watson, chief engagement officer for the All of Us research program. “When you think about groups that carry the greatest burden of disease, we know that those groups are often from minoritized populations.”

Diverse participation in All of Us hasn’t come about by accident. NIH researchers strategically partnered with community health centers, faith-based groups, and Black fraternities and sororities to recruit people who have been historically underrepresented in biomedical research.

In South Carolina, for example, the NIH works with Cooperative Health, a network of federally qualified health centers near the state capital that serve many patients who are uninsured and Black, to recruit patients for All of Us. Eric Schlueter, chief medical officer of Cooperative Health, said the partnership works because their patients trust them.

“We have a strong history of being integrated into the community. Many of our employees grew up and still live in the same communities that we serve,” Schlueter said. “That is what is part of our secret sauce.”

So far, Cooperative Health has enrolled almost 3,000 people in the research program, about 70% of whom are Black.

“Our patients are just like other patients,” Schlueter said. “They want to be able to provide an opportunity for their children and their children’s children to have better health, and they realize this is an opportunity to do that.”

Theoretically, researchers at the NIH and the Medical University of South Carolina may be trying to recruit some of the same people for their separate genetics studies, although nothing would prevent a patient from participating in both efforts.

The researchers in Charleston acknowledge they still have work to do. To date, In Our DNA SC has recruited about half of the 100,000 people it hopes for, and of those, about three-quarters have submitted DNA samples.

Caitlin Allen, a program investigator and a public health researcher at the medical university, acknowledged that some of the program’s tactics haven’t succeeded in recruiting many Black participants.

For example, some patients scheduled to see providers at the Medical University of South Carolina receive an electronic message through their patient portal before an appointment, which includes information about participating in the research project. But studies show that racial and ethnic minorities are less likely to engage with their electronic health records than white patients, Allen said.

“We see low uptake” with that strategy, she said, because many of the people researchers are trying to engage likely aren’t receiving the message.

The study involves four research coordinators trained to take DNA samples, but there’s a limit to how many people they can talk to face-to-face. “We’re not necessarily able to go into every single room,” Allen said.

That said, in-person community events seem to work well for enrolling diverse participants. In March, In Our DNA SC research coordinators collected more than 30 DNA samples at a bicentennial event in Orangeburg, South Carolina, where more than 60% of residents identify as Black. Between the first and second year of the research project, Allen said, In Our DNA SC doubled the number of these community events that research coordinators attended.

“I would love to see it ramp up even more,” she said.

Lauren Sausser:
lsausser@kff.org,
@laurenmsausser

With little pomp, California launched two apps at the start of the year offering free behavioral health services to youths to help them cope with everything from living with anxiety to body acceptance.

Through their phones, young people and some caregivers can meet BrightLife Kids and Soluna coaches, some who specialize in peer support or substance use disorders, for roughly 30-minute virtual counseling sessions that are best suited to those with more mild needs, typically those without a clinical diagnosis. The apps also feature self-directed activities, such as white noise sessions, guided breathing, and videos of ocean waves to help users relax.

“We believe they’re going to have not just great impact, but wide impact across California, especially in places where maybe it’s not so easy to find an in-person behavioral health visit or the kind of coaching and supports that parents and young people need,” said Gov. Gavin Newsom’s health secretary, Mark Ghaly, during the Jan. 16 announcement.

The apps represent one of the Democratic governor’s major forays into health technology and come with four-year contracts valued at $498 million. California is believed to be the first state to offer a mental health app with free coaching to all young residents, according to the Department of Health Care Services, which operates the program.

However, the rollout has been slow. So slow that one of the companies has missed a deadline to make its app available on Android phones. Only about 15,000 of the state’s 12.6 million children and young adults have signed up for the apps, and school counselors say they’ve never heard of them.

Advocates for youth question the wisdom of investing taxpayer dollars in two private companies. Social workers are concerned the companies’ coaches won’t properly identify youths who need referrals for clinical care. And the spending is drawing lawmaker scrutiny amid a state deficit pegged at as much as $73 billion.

An App for That

Newsom’s administration says the apps fill a need for young Californians and their families to access professional telehealth for free, in multiple languages, and outside of standard 9-to-5 hours. It’s part of Newsom’s sweeping $4.7 billion master plan for kids’ mental health, which was introduced in 2022 to increase access to mental health and substance use support services. In addition to launching virtual tools such as the teletherapy apps, the initiative is working to expand workforce capacity, especially in underserved areas.

“The reality is that we are rarely 6 feet away from our devices,” said Sohil Sud, director of Newsom’s Children and Youth Behavioral Health Initiative. “The question is how we can leverage technology as a resource for all California youth and families, not in place of, but in addition to, other behavioral health services that are being developed and expanded.”

The virtual platforms come amid rising depression and suicide rates among youth and a shortage of mental health providers. Nearly half of California youths from the ages of 12 to 17 report having recently struggled with mental health issues, with nearly a third experiencing serious psychological distress, according to a 2021 study by the UCLA Center for Health Policy Research. These rates are even higher for multiracial youths and those from low-income families.

But those supporting youth mental health at the local level question whether the apps will move the needle on climbing depression and suicide rates.

“It’s fair to applaud the state of California for aggressively seeking new tools,” said Alex Briscoe of California Children’s Trust, a statewide initiative that, along with more than 100 local partners, works to improve the social and emotional health of children. “We just don’t see it as fundamental. And we don’t believe the youth mental health crisis will be solved by technology projects built by a professional class who don’t share the lived experience of marginalized communities.”

The apps, BrightLife Kids and Soluna, are operated by two companies: Brightline, a 5-year-old venture capital-backed startup; and Kooth, a London-based publicly traded company that has experience in the U.K. and has also signed on some schools in Kentucky and Pennsylvania and a health plan in Illinois. In the first five months of Kooth’s Pennsylvania pilot, 6% of students who had access to the app signed up.

Brightline and Kooth represent a growing number of health tech firms seeking to profit in this space. They beat out dozens of other bidders including international consulting companies and other youth telehealth platforms that had already snapped up contracts in California.

Although the service is intended to be free with no insurance requirement, Brightline’s app, BrightLife Kids, is folded into and only accessible through the company’s main app, which asks for insurance information and directs users to paid licensed counseling options alongside the free coaching. After KFF Health News questioned why the free coaching was advertised below paid options, Brightline reordered the page so that, even if a child has high-acuity needs, free coaching shows up first.

The apps take an expansive view of behavioral health, making the tools available to all California youth under age 26 as well as caregivers of babies, toddlers, and children 12 and under. When KFF Health News asked to speak with an app user, Brightline connected a reporter with a mother whose 3-year-old daughter was learning to sleep on her own.

‘It’s Like Crickets’

Despite being months into the launch and having millions in marketing funds, the companies don’t have a definitive rollout timeline. Brightline said it hopes to have deployed teams across the state to present the tools in person by midyear. Kooth said developing a strategy to hit every school would be “the main focus for this calendar year.”

“It’s a big state — 58 counties,” Bob McCullough of Kooth said. “It’ll take us a while to get to all of them.”

Brightline’s contract states that the company was required to launch downloadable apps for iOS and Android phones by January, but so far BrightLife Kids is available only on Apple phones. Brightline said it’s aiming to launch the Android version over the summer.

“Nobody’s really done anything like this at this magnitude, I think, in the U.S. before,” said Naomi Allen, a co-founder and the CEO of Brightline. “We’re very much in the early innings. We’re already learning a lot.”

The contracts, obtained by KFF Health News through a records request, show the companies operating the two apps could earn as much as $498 million through the contract term, which ends in June 2027, months after Newsom is set to leave office. And the state is spending hundreds of millions more on Newsom’s virtual behavioral health strategy. The state said it aims to make the apps available long-term, depending on usage.

The state said 15,000 people signed up in the first three months. When KFF Health News asked how many of those users actively engaged with the app, it declined to say, noting that data would be released this summer.

KFF Health News reached out to nearly a dozen California mental health professionals and youths. None of them were aware of the apps.

“I’m not hearing anything,” said Loretta Whitson, executive director of the California Association of School Counselors. “It’s like crickets.”

Whitson said she doesn’t think the apps are on “anyone’s” radar in schools, and she doesn’t know of any schools that are actively advertising them. Brightline will be presenting its tool to the counselor association in May, but Whitson said the company didn’t reach out to plan the meeting; she did.

Kelly Merchant, a student at College of the Desert in Palm Desert, California, and Allen Pahl, a recent graduate, say they like Soluna’s engaging content and the ability it offers to speak to a coach outside the 9-to-5 schedule. None of the youths KFF Health News interviewed had heard of the app previously.(Molly Castle Work/KFF Health News)

Concern Over Referrals

Whitson isn’t comfortable promoting the apps just yet. Although both companies said they have a clinical team on staff to assist, Whitson said she’s concerned that the coaches, who aren’t all licensed therapists, won’t have the training to detect when users need more help and refer them to clinical care.

This sentiment was echoed by other school-based social workers, who also noted the apps’ duplicative nature — in some counties, like Los Angeles, youths can access free virtual counseling sessions through Hazel Health, a for-profit company. Nonprofits, too, have entered this space. For example, Teen Line, a peer-to-peer hotline operated by Southern California-based Didi Hirsch Mental Health Services, is free nationwide.

While the state is also funneling money to the schools as part of Newsom’s master plan, students and school-based mental health professionals voiced confusion at the large app investment when, in many school districts, few in-person counseling roles exist, and in some cases are dwindling.

Kelly Merchant, a student at College of the Desert in Palm Desert, noted that it can be hard to access in-person therapy at her school. She believes the community college, which has about 15,000 students, has only one full-time counselor and one part-time bilingual counselor. She and several students interviewed by KFF Health News said they appreciated having engaging content on their phone and the ability to speak to a coach, but all said they’d prefer in-person therapy.

“There are a lot of people who are seeking therapy, and people close to me that I know. But their insurances are taking forever, and they’re on the waitlist,” Merchant said. “And, like, you’re seeing all these people struggle.”

Fiscal conservatives question whether the money could be spent more effectively, like to bolster county efforts and existing youth behavioral health programs.

Republican state Sen. Roger Niello, vice chair of the Senate Budget and Fiscal Review Committee, noted that California is forecasted to face deficits for the next three years, and taxpayer watchdogs worry the apps might cost even more in the long run.

“What starts as a small financial commitment can become uncontrollable expenses down the road,” said Susan Shelley of the Howard Jarvis Taxpayers Association.

This article was produced by KFF Health News, which publishes California Healthline, an editorially independent service of the California Health Care Foundation. 

Molly Castle Work:
mwork@kff.org,
@mollycastlework

In the 2020 elections, then-candidate Joe Biden and many of his congressional colleagues loudly advocated for a federal “public option” health insurance plan. It was framed, at the time, as part of his incoming administration’s response to the pandemic.

“Low-income Americans will be automatically enrolled in the public option at zero cost to them, though they may choose to opt out at any time,” Democrats promised in their party platform.

But since Biden entered office, it’s been crickets. The president hasn’t uttered the phrase “public option” since December 2020, according to factba.se, which tracks his public remarks.

Why the disappearing act? In a word: politics.

“Out of the gate you’d have a huge powerful lobby against the public option — the hospitals — since providers have the most to lose: lots of money,” said Matthew Fiedler, an economist at the Brookings Institution who has studied payment disparities between insurance plans. The health-care industry is the largest lobbying sector in Washington, with more than $132 million spent annually just by hospitals and nursing homes, according to OpenSecrets.

For those who’ve forgotten, the idea was to create a government-sponsored insurance plan to compete with commercial insurers under the Affordable Care Act. The concept, previously backed by President Barack Obama, didn’t make it into the final version of the ACA due to opposition from pretty much everyone in health care.

In theory, a public option structured like Medicare, Medicaid or the military’s Tricare program could save billions in health-care spending by both the federal government and consumers because (like the existing federal plans) it would pay health providers less than commercial insurers. Fiedler said the public option could possibly save money, relative to commercial insurance, even if it paid as much as double Medicare’s rates.

And without having to earn a profit, such a plan could spend more money on patient care.

Unsurprisingly, insurers opposed the public option, but Fiedler said it’s hospital opposition that keeps it shelved.

As an example, Fiedler points to Medicare drug price negotiation, another long shot Democratic priority. Biden got that across the finish line as part of his 2022 Inflation Reduction Act.

“Congress didn’t want to pick a fight with hospitals, but they’re willing to take on drug companies,” Fiedler said.

Biden’s party hasn’t yet put together its official platform for the 2024 election, so perhaps the public option will reappear on his agenda. Spokespeople for his reelection campaign and the White House didn’t respond to emailed questions about it.

The idea still has many fans: Led by Colorado, some states have sought to create their own versions, though their plans rely on commercial insurers to administer the coverage. Insurers were able to tank public option proposals in Connecticut, and they’ve complained that they would lose money under Colorado’s proposal.

This article is not available for syndication due to republishing restrictions. If you have questions about the availability of this or other content for republication, please contact NewsWeb@kff.org.

Elisabeth Rosenthal:
erosenthal@kff.org,
@RosenthalHealth

With little pomp, California launched two apps at the start of the year offering free behavioral health services to youths to help them cope with everything from living with anxiety to body acceptance.

Through their phones, young people and some caregivers can meet BrightLife Kids and Soluna coaches, some who specialize in peer support or substance use disorders, for roughly 30-minute virtual counseling sessions that are best suited to those with more mild needs, typically those without a clinical diagnosis. The apps also feature self-directed activities, such as white noise sessions, guided breathing, and videos of ocean waves to help users relax.

“We believe they’re going to have not just great impact, but wide impact across California, especially in places where maybe it’s not so easy to find an in-person behavioral health visit or the kind of coaching and supports that parents and young people need,” said Gov. Gavin Newsom’s health secretary, Mark Ghaly, during the Jan. 16 announcement.

The apps represent one of the Democratic governor’s major forays into health technology and come with four-year contracts valued at $498 million. California is believed to be the first state to offer a mental health app with free coaching to all young residents, according to the Department of Health Care Services, which operates the program.

However, the rollout has been slow. So slow that one of the companies has missed a deadline to make its app available on Android phones. Only about 15,000 of the state’s 12.6 million children and young adults have signed up for the apps, and school counselors say they’ve never heard of them.

Advocates for youth question the wisdom of investing taxpayer dollars in two private companies. Social workers are concerned the companies’ coaches won’t properly identify youths who need referrals for clinical care. And the spending is drawing lawmaker scrutiny amid a state deficit pegged at as much as $73 billion.

An App for That

Newsom’s administration says the apps fill a need for young Californians and their families to access professional telehealth for free, in multiple languages, and outside of standard 9-to-5 hours. It’s part of Newsom’s sweeping $4.7 billion master plan for kids’ mental health, which was introduced in 2022 to increase access to mental health and substance use support services. In addition to launching virtual tools such as the teletherapy apps, the initiative is working to expand workforce capacity, especially in underserved areas.

“The reality is that we are rarely 6 feet away from our devices,” said Sohil Sud, director of Newsom’s Children and Youth Behavioral Health Initiative. “The question is how we can leverage technology as a resource for all California youth and families, not in place of, but in addition to, other behavioral health services that are being developed and expanded.”

The virtual platforms come amid rising depression and suicide rates among youth and a shortage of mental health providers. Nearly half of California youths from the ages of 12 to 17 report having recently struggled with mental health issues, with nearly a third experiencing serious psychological distress, according to a 2021 study by the UCLA Center for Health Policy Research. These rates are even higher for multiracial youths and those from low-income families.

But those supporting youth mental health at the local level question whether the apps will move the needle on climbing depression and suicide rates.

“It’s fair to applaud the state of California for aggressively seeking new tools,” said Alex Briscoe of California Children’s Trust, a statewide initiative that, along with more than 100 local partners, works to improve the social and emotional health of children. “We just don’t see it as fundamental. And we don’t believe the youth mental health crisis will be solved by technology projects built by a professional class who don’t share the lived experience of marginalized communities.”

The apps, BrightLife Kids and Soluna, are operated by two companies: Brightline, a 5-year-old venture capital-backed startup; and Kooth, a London-based publicly traded company that has experience in the U.K. and has also signed on some schools in Kentucky and Pennsylvania and a health plan in Illinois. In the first five months of Kooth’s Pennsylvania pilot, 6% of students who had access to the app signed up.

Brightline and Kooth represent a growing number of health tech firms seeking to profit in this space. They beat out dozens of other bidders including international consulting companies and other youth telehealth platforms that had already snapped up contracts in California.

Although the service is intended to be free with no insurance requirement, Brightline’s app, BrightLife Kids, is folded into and only accessible through the company’s main app, which asks for insurance information and directs users to paid licensed counseling options alongside the free coaching. After KFF Health News questioned why the free coaching was advertised below paid options, Brightline reordered the page so that, even if a child has high-acuity needs, free coaching shows up first.

The apps take an expansive view of behavioral health, making the tools available to all California youth under age 26 as well as caregivers of babies, toddlers, and children 12 and under. When KFF Health News asked to speak with an app user, Brightline connected a reporter with a mother whose 3-year-old daughter was learning to sleep on her own.

‘It’s Like Crickets’

Despite being months into the launch and having millions in marketing funds, the companies don’t have a definitive rollout timeline. Brightline said it hopes to have deployed teams across the state to present the tools in person by midyear. Kooth said developing a strategy to hit every school would be “the main focus for this calendar year.”

“It’s a big state — 58 counties,” Bob McCullough of Kooth said. “It’ll take us a while to get to all of them.”

Brightline’s contract states that the company was required to launch downloadable apps for iOS and Android phones by January, but so far BrightLife Kids is available only on Apple phones. Brightline said it’s aiming to launch the Android version over the summer.

“Nobody’s really done anything like this at this magnitude, I think, in the U.S. before,” said Naomi Allen, a co-founder and the CEO of Brightline. “We’re very much in the early innings. We’re already learning a lot.”

The contracts, obtained by KFF Health News through a records request, show the companies operating the two apps could earn as much as $498 million through the contract term, which ends in June 2027, months after Newsom is set to leave office. And the state is spending hundreds of millions more on Newsom’s virtual behavioral health strategy. The state said it aims to make the apps available long-term, depending on usage.

The state said 15,000 people signed up in the first three months. When KFF Health News asked how many of those users actively engaged with the app, it declined to say, noting that data would be released this summer.

KFF Health News reached out to nearly a dozen California mental health professionals and youths. None of them were aware of the apps.

“I’m not hearing anything,” said Loretta Whitson, executive director of the California Association of School Counselors. “It’s like crickets.”

Whitson said she doesn’t think the apps are on “anyone’s” radar in schools, and she doesn’t know of any schools that are actively advertising them. Brightline will be presenting its tool to the counselor association in May, but Whitson said the company didn’t reach out to plan the meeting; she did.

Kelly Merchant, a student at College of the Desert in Palm Desert, California, and Allen Pahl, a recent graduate, say they like Soluna’s engaging content and the ability it offers to speak to a coach outside the 9-to-5 schedule. None of the youths KFF Health News interviewed had heard of the app previously.(Molly Castle Work/KFF Health News)

Concern Over Referrals

Whitson isn’t comfortable promoting the apps just yet. Although both companies said they have a clinical team on staff to assist, Whitson said she’s concerned that the coaches, who aren’t all licensed therapists, won’t have the training to detect when users need more help and refer them to clinical care.

This sentiment was echoed by other school-based social workers, who also noted the apps’ duplicative nature — in some counties, like Los Angeles, youths can access free virtual counseling sessions through Hazel Health, a for-profit company. Nonprofits, too, have entered this space. For example, Teen Line, a peer-to-peer hotline operated by Southern California-based Didi Hirsch Mental Health Services, is free nationwide.

While the state is also funneling money to the schools as part of Newsom’s master plan, students and school-based mental health professionals voiced confusion at the large app investment when, in many school districts, few in-person counseling roles exist, and in some cases are dwindling.

Kelly Merchant, a student at College of the Desert in Palm Desert, noted that it can be hard to access in-person therapy at her school. She believes the community college, which has about 15,000 students, has only one full-time counselor and one part-time bilingual counselor. She and several students interviewed by KFF Health News said they appreciated having engaging content on their phone and the ability to speak to a coach, but all said they’d prefer in-person therapy.

“There are a lot of people who are seeking therapy, and people close to me that I know. But their insurances are taking forever, and they’re on the waitlist,” Merchant said. “And, like, you’re seeing all these people struggle.”

Fiscal conservatives question whether the money could be spent more effectively, like to bolster county efforts and existing youth behavioral health programs.

Republican state Sen. Roger Niello, vice chair of the Senate Budget and Fiscal Review Committee, noted that California is forecasted to face deficits for the next three years, and taxpayer watchdogs worry the apps might cost even more in the long run.

“What starts as a small financial commitment can become uncontrollable expenses down the road,” said Susan Shelley of the Howard Jarvis Taxpayers Association.

This article was produced by KFF Health News, which publishes California Healthline, an editorially independent service of the California Health Care Foundation. 

Molly Castle Work:
mwork@kff.org,
@mollycastlework