I Was Laid Off from CDC. Here’s Why We Need to Bolster State and Local Supports to Protect Public Health 

I moved to Atlanta in August 2024 to begin my dream job at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). After making it to the semi-finalist round for the 2023 Presidential Management Fellowship (PMF) cohort, I reapplied the following year and advanced through a 12-month hiring process of applications, aptitude exams, interviews, and security clearances to become a prestigious 2024 PMF Fellow. It was bittersweet to leave my family and friends in Northern California, but we all recognized that this opportunity to secure a federal job was a stable career move. Six months later, I was dismissed as part of the mass firings at the US Department of Health and Human Service, upending me and my public health research. 

A Period of Limbo and Confusion  

At CDC, I served as a public health analyst at the Division of Violence Prevention within the Injury Center. When I talk to friends outside of public health about my work, they are often surprised that CDC — the nation’s health protection agency — engages in injury prevention. My response is that you can die or become disabled in three ways: by an infectious disease, chronic disease, or injury. Car accidents, drowning, overdose, self-harm, firearm violence, child abuse, and intimate partner violence constitute “unintentional injuries,” which are the leading cause of death for Americans aged 1-44 years old. For 1-19 year olds, firearm injuries are the leading cause of death. But they can be prevented through community-based prevention systems and by increasing household income and neighborhood collective efficacy, among other evidence-informed strategies.  

In my position, I worked alongside a brilliant, kindhearted team of attorneys, health communication specialists, and public health analysts to review violence prevention policy, provide technical expertise to our scientists and program officers, and translate evidence-based strategies for external partners, elected officials, and the public. Not long ago, a team lead wrote a love letter to DVP that speaks to the personal relationship many of us hold to preventing violence and our collective dedication to building a country where everyone can live safe and healthy lives.  

By January 2025, I had begun to feel at home in Atlanta and received positive feedback on my 2024 performance review. I had also learned that I was characterized as a probationary federal employee as a new hire. This meant that I was easier to fire than my colleagues who had already completed their 1- or 2-year probationary period. I felt unsettled by my status but hopeful that my work ethic and PMF title would protect me. 

On Valentine’s Day, my supervisor notified me that I was on the list of probationary employees to be terminated. Twenty-four hours later, I received a backdated letter stating that the US Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) was dismissing me because “[my] ability, knowledge and skills do not fit the Agency’s current needs” and “poor performance.” Thousands of probationary employees across multiple federal agencies received similar template notices. I was placed on four weeks of paid administrative leave and forced to start emergency-brainstorming new life plans. However, on the day before my official separation, a federal court ordered the reinstatement of fired probationary federal employees. I was reinstated the following week but placed back on paid administrative leave indefinitely. 

This period of limbo produced daily anxieties about health insurance coverage, where I would live, and where I would work. Each new lawsuit, court ruling, appeal, or union action fed my hope of returning to work. My fellow “probies” and I juggled the confusing possibilities of being fired or reinstated at any moment. Often, we were struck by the irony of having made the intentional choice to uproot our lives for job security when our employment was anything but secure. In other moments, I personally recognized and was grateful for having a flexible life — other colleagues have kids and/or mortgages, and one recently found out that she is pregnant. 

On April Fool’s Day 2,400 CDC employees received termination notices, centers were gutted, and entire offices were removed through a Reduction in Force (RIF), initiated by an executive order that also eliminated the PMF Program. I was shocked when I texted colleagues and learned that their jobs and core public health functions like smoking prevention, birth defects, and occupational safety were gone. The Injury Center saw major losses — my division (DVP) lost three of its four branches. Due to ongoing litigation, RIF’d workers currently remain on indefinite paid leave. 

As a probationary worker, I have also remained on indefinite leave and ironically received a cash performance award even though the alleged basis of my termination was poor performance.  In April, a federal judge directed agencies to issue letters to all terminated probationary employees stating that their termination was not performance-based. I did not receive a letter from HHS. Furthermore, when I reviewed my leave and earnings statement on May 21, it appeared that I had been terminated without separation notice, which should have included the required documentation to extend my health insurance and apply for unemployment.  

After months of limbo, I have already grieved and processed the loss, but everything is far from over. Court cases regarding the status of probationary and RIF’d employees continue to be debated, ruled on, and appealed up the legal system and even to the Supreme Court. These cases often cite the lack of due process and impact on hundreds of thousands of federal employees who may face economic harms due to loss of salary and health care. In one instance, 19 states and D.C. filed a lawsuit to block the mass layoffs, citing how improper procedural issues have placed burdens on the plaintiff states, including increased administrative demands related to unemployment claims, increased demands for social services, and decreased tax revenues. 

The Impact of Mass Firings for State and Local Governments 

The impacts of these mass firings extend beyond the federal worker. Private companies that contract with the federal government and non-profits are laying-off non-federal workers across the country due to cancelled contracts and grants, respectively. From rural Mississippi and San Antonio to Washington, DC, to New York City, I have friends from federal, private, and non-profits backgrounds who are actively searching for work with comparable population-wide impacts such as cleaning hazardous waste sites, rebuilding towns after natural disasters, and protecting digital security — issues that affect all Americans. Yet, the administration’s recently adopted budget will decrease or cut funding for key public health domains, including clean water, chronic disease, HIV/AIDS, opioid overdose, firearm injury, suicide prevention, and public health preparedness and response. 

This is a crucial time to bolster state and local public health agencies. To compensate for the widening gaps in federal funding and technical assistance, states could adopt policies to expand prevention programs, strengthen disease monitoring systems, and build emergency preparedness and response. Moreover, states can incorporate former federal expertise into these programs via contract work, workforce exchanges, or full-time state or local employee roles. Comprehensive violence prevention such as economic policies to strengthen household financial security (e.g., tax credits, childcare subsidies), educational policies to change cultural norms (e.g., teach safe and healthy relationship skills), and policies to modify the physical and social environments of neighborhoods (e.g., increase urban green space, reduce alcohol outlet density) are just some of the evidence-informed strategies from the CDC’s Prevention Resources for Action.  

Despite their diminished capacity, state and local agencies will now need to take on many of public health functions that have been historically supported at the federal level. If we act now to mitigate short- and long-term harms, we can help protect our communities.