The outcomes were striking. Five-year survival rates for individuals with cancer residing in redlined communities were 85.1%, whereas 90.3% of individuals with cancer residing outside redlined communities survived for that period. Ten years down the line, the rates decreased again—81.1% versus 88.1%. Even after adjusting for poverty rates and cancer-specific status, individuals from redlined communities were 32% more likely to die from cancer. The study also found that modern neighborhood poverty did not significantly change this association, further supporting that historical segregation continues to drive disparities even today.
Interestingly, the impact of redlining did vary by age cohort. Survival rates for pediatric individuals under 18 years of age were no different. A probable reason for this is that children are more likely to be enrolled in government-funded health coverage such as Medicaid and CHIP. But for 18–39-year-olds, the survival rate disparity was stark. Once individuals age out of pediatric coverage, their healthcare access is increasingly shaped by economic inequalities rooted in redlining’s legacy.
Why does redlining remain a factor for cancer survival rates today? Several reasons are proposed by researchers. Historically redlined areas' restricted health care access may cause diagnoses to be delayed or of inferior quality. Higher levels of pollution exposure are another kind of hazard that may be present. Financial insecurity—connected with constant stress—has also been found to be related to worse health consequences.
In Dr. Karvonen’s opinion, the findings of this study “suggest historical redlining, a form of structural racism, is associated with higher mortality in patients under the age of 40." That is, the institutional racism embedded within these maps isn't just something that happened years ago—it's a present-day public health epidemic. “These maps were racist, and although the extent of the use of these maps is debated, they represent the racially charged attitudes and beliefs held at the time and therefore serve as a measure of structural racism.”
The research team stresses the need for further studies: “further studies are needed to build upon this historical example and examine more proximal measures of structural racism relevant to patients today.” This means looking beyond historical policies to assess how modern factors—such as hospital locations, insurance access, and socioeconomic barriers—continue to shape health outcomes.
Addressing these systemic inequalities requires action from health professionals and policymakers. In addition to improving health coverage and expanding early cancer screenings in marginalized communities, the study underscores the need to investigate modern structural barriers—such as disparities in hospital access, insurance coverage, and economic mobility. Solutions should also include investments in historically redlined areas to reduce the long-term effects of segregation on health outcomes.
For most of us, redlining is a chapter in history books—a shameful policy of the past. But this study makes clear that its consequences are still shaping health outcomes today. Let us be troubled by the hard questions. If it is acceptable that almost a century of unethical policy should determine life and death outcomes, what are we willing to do about it?