Let's talk about what the actual documented side effects are
Across the United States, one in six parents is now choosing to delay or forgo childhood vaccines — not because of cost or access, but because of eroding trust in the institutions that recommend them. A Washington Post-KFF survey of nearly 2,700 parents reveals that hesitancy clusters most deeply among homeschooling families, white religious households, and Republicans, tracing a fault line that runs through worldview rather than circumstance. As measles requires 95 percent community immunity to stay contained, and West Texas has already witnessed the worst outbreak in three decades, the question before the nation is not merely medical — it is about whether shared confidence in collective protection can be rebuilt before preventable diseases reclaim ground they once lost.
- One in six American parents is now skipping or delaying childhood vaccines, with homeschooling families leading the retreat at 46 percent — a rate nearly nine times higher than among Asian parents.
- Safety fears and doubts about necessity are driving hesitancy far more than cost or access, meaning better clinics and lower prices will do little to close the gap.
- Flu and COVID vaccines have quietly collapsed in uptake — only 13 percent of eligible children received a COVID shot last year, and flu vaccination has been falling steadily since 2019.
- West Texas just endured the nation's worst measles outbreak in over 30 years, a live demonstration of what happens when community immunity slips below the 95 percent threshold the disease demands.
- RFK Jr.'s appointment as HHS Secretary has public health experts warning that institutional skepticism from the top could accelerate the decline and push more regions past the tipping point.
A new Washington Post-KFF survey of nearly 2,700 American parents has found that one in six families are now skipping or delaying childhood vaccines — a shift that breaks along demographic lines and raises urgent questions about the nation's ability to prevent outbreaks of diseases like measles.
Hesitancy is highest among homeschooling parents, 46 percent of whom report avoiding or postponing vaccines, followed by white parents who describe themselves as very religious at 36 percent. Republicans show significantly higher rates of avoidance than Democrats, and Asian parents report the lowest hesitancy of any group at just 5 percent. The pattern points to worldview and trust as the driving forces — not cost, not access.
School-mandated vaccines like MMR still reach 92.5 percent of kindergartners, but optional vaccines tell a different story. Only 13 percent of eligible children received a COVID vaccine last year, and more than half of parents skipped the flu shot entirely. The CDC has tracked a steady decline in flu vaccination coverage since 2019. For measles — which requires more than 95 percent community immunity to prevent outbreaks — these trends are not abstract. West Texas recently experienced the worst measles outbreak in over 30 years.
When parents explain their hesitancy, safety concerns and doubts about necessity outweigh practical barriers by more than four to one. Two Arizona mothers illustrate the range of reasoning: one, a private school teacher, distrusts the profit motives she sees in the health care system and has moved her family to a delayed vaccine schedule; another, a civil engineer with a PhD, supports vaccines in principle but wants more honest public conversation about documented side effects rather than what she describes as pressure to comply.
Public health researchers note that broad support for vaccines among American parents remains, but warn that early cracks in confidence among younger parents could harden into lasting behavioral change. With Robert F. Kennedy Jr. now serving as HHS Secretary and already revisiting immunization practices, experts fear that institutional skepticism from the top could accelerate the decline — and push more communities below the immunity thresholds that keep preventable diseases at bay.
A new survey of American parents reveals a widening fault line in childhood vaccination. One in six families are now skipping or delaying vaccines for their children—a shift that breaks down along predictable demographic lines and raises urgent questions about whether the nation can maintain the immunity thresholds needed to prevent outbreaks of diseases like measles.
The Washington Post and KFF, a health policy research organization, surveyed 2,716 parents over the summer and found that vaccine hesitancy clusters most heavily among three groups: families who homeschool their children, white parents who describe themselves as very religious, and Republicans. Homeschooling parents skip or delay vaccines at the highest rate—46 percent—followed by white religious parents at 36 percent. By contrast, only 8 percent of Democratic parents and 5 percent of Asian parents report delaying or skipping vaccines beyond coronavirus and flu shots. The pattern suggests that vaccine decisions are increasingly tied not to access or cost, but to worldview and trust.
The erosion is most visible in optional vaccines. While school-mandated shots like MMR still reach 92.5 percent of kindergartners nationally, flu and coronavirus vaccines tell a different story. Last year, only 13 percent of eligible children received a coronavirus vaccine. For flu shots, the numbers are starker: 52 percent of parents did not vaccinate their children in the past year, compared to 41 percent who did. The CDC notes that flu vaccination coverage has been declining steadily since 2019, after holding steady for nearly a decade. These gaps matter less for diseases that spread slowly, but they become dangerous when a pathogen is highly contagious. Measles requires more than 95 percent of a community to be vaccinated to prevent outbreaks—a threshold the nation is approaching from below in some regions. West Texas recently experienced the worst measles outbreak in more than 30 years, a warning of what happens when immunity slips.
When researchers asked parents why they were hesitating, safety concerns dominated the conversation. Parents cited worries about side effects and doubts about whether all recommended vaccines are truly necessary—concerns that outweighed practical barriers like cost or appointment availability by a factor of more than four to one. This matters because it means the problem is not one that better access or lower prices will solve. It is a problem of confidence.
Anna Hulkow, a 39-year-old who teaches at a private Christian school in Arizona, exemplifies the shift. She moved her five children from California partly because the state's school vaccine requirements had become incompatible with her family's choices. Her children had not received shots for chickenpox, polio, or pertussis. Hulkow does not call herself antivaccine—her children have had some immunizations—but she distrusts the profit motive she sees embedded in the health care system and believes severe vaccine reactions go unreported. She now takes her children to a physician who spaces out vaccines on a delayed schedule. When asked whether her children might be better off contracting chickenpox naturally, she said yes. Before vaccination, chickenpox killed 100 to 150 Americans annually and hospitalized thousands more. The disease is no longer a rite of passage; it is a preventable risk.
Ally Barlow, a 31-year-old Arizona mother with a PhD in civil engineering, holds a different position but arrives at similar choices. She believes vaccines are a modern medical achievement and rejects Robert F. Kennedy Jr.'s claims about vaccine safety as unfounded. Yet she delayed some shots for her four-year-old daughter, including chickenpox protection, because she thinks the standard immunization schedule prioritizes convenience over caution. Her two-year-old son has received only measles and tetanus vaccines so far due to health complications. Barlow's concern is not that vaccines are dangerous, but that the conversation around them leaves no room for nuance. "Let's talk about what the actual documented side effects are, and be honest about it," she said, "instead of being like, you have to do this if you're a good parent, this is what the government says."
Liz Hamel, a vice president at KFF, offered a cautious reading of the data. "We still have strong support for vaccines among parents in this country," she said. "What we don't know yet is whether those slight cracks we're starting to see in confidence among younger parents are going to translate into actual decisions around vaccines." The answer may come sooner than expected. Robert F. Kennedy Jr., a longtime vaccine skeptic, has been appointed Health and Human Services Secretary and has already begun revisiting immunization practices and raising safety concerns that major medical organizations and the CDC have long dismissed as baseless. Public health experts warn that his influence could accelerate the decline in vaccination rates, pushing immunity levels below the thresholds needed to keep measles and other highly contagious diseases in check.
Citas Notables
We still have strong support for vaccines among parents in this country. What we don't know yet is whether those slight cracks we're starting to see in confidence among younger parents are going to translate into actual decisions around vaccines.— Liz Hamel, KFF vice president and director of public opinion and survey research
I don't think my kids are worse off to get it firsthand than they are to get it through the vaccinations.— Anna Hulkow, parent who moved to Arizona for looser vaccine requirements
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why are homeschooling parents so much more likely to delay vaccines than other groups?
Homeschoolers operate outside the school system, so they're not subject to the vaccine mandates that drive compliance. That removes the external pressure. But it's also a community that often shares certain values—skepticism of institutions, preference for parental autonomy, sometimes religious conviction. When you're already choosing to educate your children outside public schools, vaccine hesitancy fits into a broader philosophy about who gets to make decisions for your family.
The poll shows safety concerns matter far more than access issues. What does that tell us?
It tells us this isn't a problem we can solve with clinics and insurance. Parents who are hesitating aren't saying "I can't get to a doctor." They're saying "I don't trust what the doctor is telling me." That's a much harder problem. You can't legislate trust back into existence.
Anna Hulkow moved her family to Arizona specifically for looser vaccine rules. Is that a sign of how serious this is getting?
It shows that for some families, this isn't a casual preference—it's a conviction strong enough to drive major life decisions. She uprooted her entire family. That's not someone on the fence. And Arizona's looser requirements made that possible. When states have different rules, people can sort themselves into the places that match their beliefs.
Ally Barlow seems different from Hulkow. She's not antivaccine, but she's still delaying shots.
Right. Barlow represents a different kind of hesitancy—not ideological opposition, but a demand for transparency and acknowledgment of tradeoffs. She wants to talk honestly about side effects instead of being told compliance is the mark of a good parent. That's a more sophisticated critique, and it might be harder to address because she's not wrong that the conversation is often one-sided.
What happens if vaccination rates keep declining?
We lose herd immunity. Measles needs 95 percent coverage to stay contained. We're at 92.5 percent nationally, but that's an average—some regions are already below that threshold. West Texas just had the worst measles outbreak in 30 years. If rates drop further, we'll see more of that. And measles is just the beginning.