Finding Balance: Empathy in the Battle Against Misinformation

In the early days of 2021, just after New Year’s, Dr. Mai Uchida made a decision that would unexpectedly transform her life. As one of the first pregnant women to receive the COVID-19 mRNA vaccine, she weighed the potential risks against the benefits and chose vaccination to protect herself, her unborn third son, her family, patients, and community.

Following her vaccination, Uchida collaborated with outreach groups at Massachusetts General Hospital to share both her personal experience and scientific data on pregnancy and vaccination. Her story resonated globally but had particular impact in her native Japan, where vaccine hesitancy was widespread. This pivotal moment set her on an unexpected path of public health advocacy.

“While the overall public response to my communication was positive, I also became a target for the anti-vaccine movement,” Uchida explains. The backlash was swift and severe. She received accusations of being a “bad mother” and committing “child abuse” for choosing vaccination while pregnant. Anonymous complaints about her “unethical conduct” were sent to both Massachusetts General Hospital and Harvard.

The harassment escalated alarmingly. Physical mail containing X-Acto knife blades arrived addressed to her. Someone created a fake death certificate for her unborn child, listing “mother’s vaccination” as the cause of death. What began as vaccine-specific criticism evolved into personal attacks about her appearance, speech, and gender.

“The response gradually expanded beyond vaccination and into comments about my appearance, how I spoke, and about my being a woman,” Uchida notes. “I was reminded of the deep-seated gender inequalities in Japanese culture.”

This experience illuminated several critical issues: the dangerous power of health misinformation, the lack of support for parents making difficult health decisions, and the psychological harm caused by unconscious biases and inequality.

As both a mother and child psychiatrist, Uchida recognized familiar patterns. “Child psychiatry has been a field of abundant misinformation and prejudice,” she states. Despite scientific debunking decades ago, harmful terms like “refrigerator mothers” persist in some circles. Parents of children with psychiatric conditions often face shame and blame rather than support.

“Misinformation and prejudice can significantly alter or even end lives,” Uchida emphasizes. This realization reinforced her longstanding commitment to advance science and disseminate accurate knowledge – though she never expected this mission would manifest during an infectious disease pandemic.

Rather than retreating from the hostility, Uchida made a remarkable choice. “When I received the overwhelming amount of hate, I took a deep breath, hugged my family, gathered my support system, and decided to talk to the ‘haters,'” she recalls. She appeared on Japanese national television daily for over six months, explaining the scientific evidence for mRNA vaccines and clinical COVID-19 data with empathy and understanding.

Uchida joined a nonprofit project with like-minded physicians to combat medical misinformation about COVID-19 vaccines. The team collaborated with media outlets and the Japanese government to provide accurate scientific information to the public.

Their efforts yielded remarkable results. In January 2021, reports indicated just 7 percent of Japanese citizens planned to receive the COVID-19 vaccine. By September 2021, over 80 percent had been vaccinated. The nonprofit was later honored with the Minister of Health, Labour and Welfare Award for their significant public health impact in Japan.

Throughout this advocacy work, Uchida confronted Japan’s entrenched gender inequality issues. As of 2023, the World Economic Forum ranks Japan 125th out of 146 countries in gender equality. In her 2007 medical school class, women represented just 15 percent of students, and male classmates openly questioned women becoming doctors.

“When I started appearing on Japanese national TV for vaccine advocacy, it shocked viewers,” Uchida says. “Not only had I been vaccinated while pregnant, but I was also a female physician in a leadership position at Harvard while having a family.”

This visibility prompted both microaggressions and direct attacks, reinforcing Uchida’s commitment to provide representation for women with expertise in scientific and medical fields.

Perhaps the most surprising lesson from this experience was discovering common ground with those initially perceived as opponents. “Many of the people who showed hesitancy about the vaccine shared the same goal as people who advocated for vaccination: to protect the health of ourselves and our loved ones,” she reflects.

This insight has shaped Uchida’s perspective on societal divisions. Rather than viewing ideological differences as binary opposites, she now sees nuanced gradations. “Finding empathy for people who appeared to be on the opposite side allowed me to think differently,” she concludes. “There is a gradation of each color from dark to light, and there are parts where two colors mix.”