Shortly before her graduation, Berkeley Social Welfare sat down with Monica De La Cruz—now a PhD graduate and recipient of the prestigious James and Khadija Midgley Dissertation Award—to talk about her unconventional path to social work, her community-engaged research, and her hopes for the future.
Could you share a little with us about your path to Berkeley and your interest in public health and social welfare?
It’s been a winding pathway, informed by my lived experience. I knew I wanted a career helping people, but I didn’t know exactly what that would look like.
I had my oldest kid when I was 18. At the time, I was struggling with money and super-stressed out. I was a student at San Francisco City College at the time, majoring in Molecular and Cell Biology. That degree coincided with my interest in the human body. I was on the pre-med track. I transferred to San Francisco State and secured a job at an affiliated organization with the University of California, San Francisco, specifically the Gladstone Institutes. I worked primarily in a lab focused on neurological disease using animal models, specifically Drosophila, or fruit flies. Much of my time was spent sorting flies by eye color and doing other tasks around the lab. Though it was important work, I knew I wanted to work directly with people, not flies.
When you’re a molecular and cell biology major, you’re only learning about the internal side of our bodies, not the social determinants of health. Eventually, my path brought me to public health, and I enrolled in a new, hybrid Master of Public Health program at the University of San Francisco. I did my “practicum” hours at the Stanford School of Medicine Pediatric Advocacy Program, working alongside pediatricians and other public health professionals. We developed child meal and diaper distribution programs, and we conducted interviews with people about the impact of these programs; those interviews were my first encounter with qualitative research. The pediatricians and I were frustrated with the limitations of our ability to help the families we met. True, we were meeting families’ immediate needs, but not making long-term changes beyond that.
Over the years, I applied to medical school and a health policy PhD program. Eventually, I learned about social work and realized that was me! I spoke with Professor Jill Berrick about how poverty impacts child health. I met Associate Professor Anu Manchikanti Gomez, who was starting her research on guaranteed income for pregnant people, and a lightbulb went off in my head—that was exactly what I wanted to do!
What are your thoughts on community-engaged research?
I always believed research should not be done on communities, but with communities, but I didn’t know how to operationalize that. I was fortunate to learn from the Abundant Birth Project, which is the country’s first program to provide guaranteed income for pregnant people.
The Abundant Birth Project is the brainchild of Expecting Justice, a Black-led collaborative that works to improve maternal and infant health in Black and Pacific Islander communities. Expecting Justice was founded by the visionary Dr. Zea Malawa.
The Expecting Justice staff wanted our research to be not only community-centered but community-led. We trained community members in research methods, including interviewing and survey administration. The community researchers have co-created the evaluation of the Abundant Birth Project—for instance, they tell us if questions are culturally appropriate. Then we, the researchers from the universities, try to be transparent about the limitations of what we can and can’t do; we communicate our limitations with funding, processes, etc.
Working with the Abundant Birth Project taught me how to conduct research. As part of my dissertation, I conducted a qualitative project with Black and Pacific Islander women. Building on the knowledge I gained from the Abundant Birth Project, I assembled advisory boards from both the Black and Pacific Islander communities to ensure that community voice was centered in the research process, as I’m not part of either community. To do this work as a racial/ethnic outsider requires a great deal of humility and reflexivity, including confronting my own biases and engaging in open and transparent conversations about balancing the community's needs and desires with the limitations of this research project. Those conversations have been eye-opening, especially since many of our advisory board members were previously part of some performative advisory boards where their voices weren’t heard, listened to, and appreciated. Community-engaged research requires a lot of understanding and trust-building. I’ve grown so much, not only academically, but as a person, because of this experience.
Guaranteed income has become a major focus of your work. What have you learned?
The jury is still out on the impact of guaranteed income [cash payments to low-income individuals], which has been studied since the 1960s. Proponents of guaranteed income argue that it creates space for people to invest in their education, to leave jobs in search of something better, and to save for a rainy day; opponents fear it will disincentivize work.
Through the Abundant Birth Project, we’ve seen how guaranteed cash payments provide pregnant people with breathing room. The income is like a personal safety net. Some people save their money and don’t touch it unless there’s a crisis, such as a broken-down car. Others use it to cover regular expenses, such as rent. And having money to spend on small daily activities—such as buying your child something they want or having a special dinner—makes a huge difference in participants’ lives, especially for those who have been struggling to make ends meet.
When I was pregnant, I was stressed about money. Fortunately, my daughter was healthy but it wasn’t a happy pregnancy. I wore baggy clothes because maternity clothes were super expensive. I think about what a difference it would have made if I had had a guaranteed income at the time, to enjoy the amazing journey of pregnancy and childbirth.
Your research explores the concept of who is “deserving” of public support and who is not. Why are narratives around poverty important—for social workers and everyone else?
Narratives are all around us. People living in poverty hear stereotypes from their family members, their parents, and their teenage kids. In one of my studies, a mom shared that her kid asked her, “Why are you on welfare? You’re being lazy.” When a social worker chooses certain words to describe a “difficult” client, those words could impact that person down the line.
Our system is not set up to support people in poverty. We need to talk about people in a humanizing way, recognize the structural issues at play, and acknowledge that individuals may be doing the best they can given the systemic barriers in place, especially for Black and brown people.
You attended the Cash Transfers and Guaranteed Minimum Income Programs: Research, Evaluation, and Policy Conference in Prague. What were your takeaways?
It was clear how America’s rugged individualism, that “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” mentality, is deeply ingrained in our national identity. A presenter shared that the vast majority (over 80%) of Europeans think the government is responsible for reducing poverty. In America, we have a less systemic view. We still think that poverty is an individual issue.
Despite that difference, America and Europe share similar concerns about giving people money with no strings attached. That insider/outsider, deserving/undeserving dichotomy is prevalent, racist, and xenophobic in both places. For example, a Czech professor discussed the Romani people who migrated to the Czech Republic and were living in run-down, low-income neighborhoods. She described the debate that people in the Czech Republic were having about whether or not to economically support the Romani people because “they’re not part of ‘our’ collective.” The concept of deservingness is everywhere, but it takes on a distinct form in each locale.
Where do you envision yourself after you graduate?
I want to continue research that is impactful and make it applicable to policy change in any way possible. I’m open to exploring careers outside of academia, but know that wherever I land, community work and research will need to be big parts of my career.
What advice would you give to someone considering pursuing a PhD in Social Welfare at Berkeley?
It’s a lot of hard work, and you’re often navigating the “hidden curriculum” of higher education. Find your community, it will sustain you: My doctoral cohort has been my backbone. Every time I want to fall apart, they lift me up.
Whatever community you’re working for, whatever betterment you want for the world, keep that as your north star. Remind yourself of what your passion is.
I know that I’ll be able to apply my education, skills, and experience to help make the world a better place.