"We do it because we get the chance to work hard at work worth doing alongside people we love."

Leslie Knope said those words in the series finale of Parks and Recreation. A fictional public servant speaking to a fictional graduating class. But sitting here, watching our real public health infrastructure burn while children bleed in church pews, I keep coming back to her words. They capture something essential about why we can't stop now, even when stopping feels like the only sane response.

The last 48 hours have been a masterclass in deliberate chaos.

Yesterday morning, two children—ages 8 and 10—were murdered during a Mass in their first week of school at Annunciation Catholic Church in Minneapolis. Seventeen others were injured. The 146th school shooting incident this year. Children sitting in pews. Children praying. Children dying. (As a parent, as an American, as a human… There are no words that can adequately convey the tragedy of this.)

While families were still searching hospital waiting rooms for their babies, while Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey sat on those church steps, another kind of violence was accelerating.

I was on an Instagram Live talking about COVID and flu vaccines—literally in the middle of answering questions about how to protect our families during respiratory virus season—when the news broke. The FDA had approved the next round of COVID shots but restricted them to adults 65 and older and those with underlying conditions. The emergency use authorizations that had protected COVID vaccine access for years? Rescinded.

My DMs exploded with people confused about what this meant for their families. Could their toddlers still get vaccinated? What about pregnant women? The confusion was immediate and intentional. (My friend Dr. Katelyn Jetelina has an excellent breakdown of where we stand— check it out here.)

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Hours later, I was on a call with fellow science communicators when the next bomb dropped: CDC Director Susan Monarez had been fired after exactly four weeks on the job. Her crime? "Refusing to rubber-stamp unscientific, reckless directives and fire dedicated health experts."

We all gasped. Actually gasped. Like something out of a bad movie, except this is our reality now.

Within hours, the exodus began. Dr. Debra Houry, the CDC's chief medical officer. Dr. Daniel Jernigan. Dr. Jen Layden. Decades of expertise, walking out the door.

And then came Dr. Demetre Daskalakis's resignation letter—a document that should be required reading for anyone who still believes this is about "different scientific opinions."

"I have never experienced such radical non-transparency, nor have I seen such unskilled manipulation of data to achieve a political end rather than the good of the American people."

He warned that we're heading toward "a pre-vaccine era where only the strong will survive." He wrote about "people of dubious intent and more dubious scientific rigor" now in charge of vaccine policy. He described the CDC director as "hamstrung and sidelined by an authoritarian leader."

And then this: "Their desire to please a political base will result in death and disability of vulnerable children and adults."

Let me be clear: It sure feels like we are losing this battle right now.

People should be scared. They should be terrified. But here's the thing—most Americans have no idea what's happening. While it feels like the world is burning to the ground, I realize I'm so acutely aware of it because I'm living it. This is my life's work. This is what I breathe every day. But the majority of Americans? They don't see it yet. They won't see it until their child gets measles. Until their parent dies from preventable disease. Until the next pandemic hits and we have no infrastructure left to respond.

The scariest part? This destruction is being spun by RFK Jr. as bringing in "fresh perspectives" and "alternative viewpoints." As if decades of expertise in virology, epidemiology, and public health somehow makes you less qualified than someone who "questions the narrative." As if understanding how diseases actually spread is a liability. As if the scientific method itself is the problem.

I've seen the responses celebrating this purge. Some people genuinely believe that we need voices who aren't "indoctrinated" by medical training. Who aren't "trapped" by evidence-based thinking. Who can bring "different ways of knowing" to infectious disease control.

Different ways of knowing. About viruses. About bacteria. About how vaccines work at a molecular level.

This isn't about industry influence—most of these career scientists could have made five times their government salary in the private sector. This is about the fundamental rejection of expertise itself. The idea that someone who has spent 30 years studying disease transmission is somehow less trustworthy than someone with "common sense" and a YouTube channel. That peer-reviewed research is suspicious but conspiracy theories are brave truth-telling.

These are people with unbelievable expertise and experience. People we NEED at these institutions. People who've bravely remained and fought from within, despite political pressure, despite threats, despite watching their colleagues get fired for refusing to falsify data. And now they're being dismissed as too educated, too specialized, too committed to the "medical establishment"—as if that's an insult rather than exactly what we need during health crises.

How’s morale among scientists and science communicators? It's not just low—it's shattered. My group chats are filled with people who have dedicated their lives to public health wondering if there's any point in continuing. We're watching the systematic destruction of institutions we've spent careers building, defending, improving.

Earlier this year, I wrote about "the day the science died" after brutal funding cuts and mass firings. I thought that was the match being struck. I was wrong. That was just the kindling being arranged. The fire is raging now, and they're not even pretending to hide the accelerant.

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The chaos of public health destruction, conspiracy theorists in cabinet positions, data manipulated for political gain—this IS by design. They want us exhausted. They want us to give up. They want the fire in us extinguished.

But here's what I keep thinking about Leslie Knope and public service: "When we worked together, we fought, scratched, and clawed to make people's lives a tiny bit better. That's what public service is all about—small incremental change every day."

Small. Incremental. Change.

Not grand victories. Not immediate transformation. Just showing up, day after day, doing the work even when it feels hopeless. Especially when it feels hopeless.

When parents couldn't understand the new COVID vaccine restrictions yesterday, we explained them—clearly, patiently, repeatedly. When people asked if their kids were still safe, we shared resources. When colleagues wanted to quit, we reminded each other why we started.

Because here's what they don't understand about public health professionals, about scientists, about educators, about anyone who has chosen service over profit: We're not motivated by winning. We're motivated by those two children in Minneapolis who should be learning multiplication tables. We're motivated by the pregnant woman seeking protection for her baby. We're motivated by the next pandemic that's coming whether we're prepared or not.

Senator Patty Murray called it right: "Director Monarez is not the problem, RFK Jr. is." She demanded his immediate firing, calling him "a dangerous man who is determined to abuse his authority to act on truly terrifying conspiracy theories and disinformation."

But we can't wait for politicians to save us. We are the firewall now.

The American Academy of Pediatrics broke from the CDC to issue their own vaccine recommendations. The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists <a href="https://www.acog.org/news/news-releases/2025/08/acog-releases-updated-maternal-immunization-guidance-covid-influenza-r