Meet the Brown students and graduates who revived a local free health clinic

What obstacles did you face in reopening Amal Clinic?

Maaty: We reopened and held our first clinic on June 26, 2024. We hold clinics on Wednesday evenings, typically twice a month, from 5 to 8:30 PM. One big challenge has been coordinating provider schedules—especially providers who are not only clinically skilled but also culturally attuned to the communities we serve.

Over the past year, we've been able to bring in providers from a range of specialties—primary care, dermatology, OB/GYN, chiropractic care and pain management. We aim for 5–10 patients per clinic-day and we schedule interpreters, medical students and community volunteers with the hope of providing a holistic and positive experience for all.

We’re intentional about creating a learning environment, especially for medical and public health students interested in gaining experience with diverse populations. We also offer in-person interpretation for patients who need it—a vital component of culturally responsive care that we prioritize.

We’ve been lucky to have strong support from Clínica Esperanza. They provide space at their 60 Valley Street location, as well as access to their pharmacy and some of their community connections.

But there are definitely challenges. Everything is volunteer-based—no one is getting paid, and it’s entirely student-run. So scheduling can be tough. Providers are generous with their time, but they’re busy, and not all of them live nearby. Getting volunteers—especially students—can also be tricky, since their availability fluctuates with the academic calendar: midterms, finals and other responsibilities have affected scheduling.

Were there were legal and regulatory challenges, too?

Luckily, since we’re working in partnership with Clínica Esperanza, a lot of the legal infrastructure was already in place. That’s been a huge help. Providers just need to submit the appropriate paperwork—verifying that they’re licensed to practice in Rhode Island, and going through some basic documentation. Volunteers, too, have to go through background checks, show proof of vaccination, and complete Clínica Esperanza’s own volunteer forms.

So while we didn’t have to build the legal side from scratch, we’ve definitely had to ensure that everyone involved meets the clinic’s standards and protocols. It’s a big responsibility, but it's been doable thanks to that collaboration.

How did your MPH Practicum help shape this project?

It definitely helped guide the launch of the clinic. With the Practicum, there are certain deliverables we have to meet, so that structure helped shape how we approached the early stages. Honestly, launching a clinic like this is a huge undertaking—at times it felt overwhelming. But, having that Practicum framework gave us a roadmap: a way to break things down into manageable steps and keep the momentum going.

A big part of our work has been community-facing—reaching out not only to make people aware that this clinic exists as a resource, but also to invite them to volunteer and be part of serving their own communities. That outreach has been essential.

Of course, we had to figure out logistics—partnering with Clínica Esperanza, understanding their guidelines and what paperwork was needed, recruiting providers and making sure everything aligned with existing systems.

We also used our Practicum deliverables to help create patient-facing materials—things like appropriate translations of intake forms and educational content. That was really important for accessibility and respect.

So overall, the Practicum helped us structure our thinking in a more intentional way. It gave us a starting point and encouraged us to take the first concrete steps—then observe how patients responded, what the community needed, and how we could improve from there.

How has working with underserved communities through Amal Clinic affected your perspective on health equity and public health practice?

I would say it reaffirmed my perspective. Working with Amal Clinic highlights just how many populations aren’t fully recognized in the broader health equity conversation.

There’s a lot of focus—rightfully—on historically marginalized communities like African American and Hispanic populations. But other groups, like Asian, Middle Eastern and African communities, often go overlooked. I strongly believe that everyone deserves access to dignified, quality care—but we need a more expansive and inclusive view of who is being left out.

For instance, based on how the U.S. Census classifies race and ethnicity, South Asians are typically grouped under the broad “Asian” category, while Middle Eastern and North African individuals are often categorized as “White.” These classification don’t typically reflect the lived experiences of many in these communities.

This was something I explored in my thesis, too. While some people from these regions may be white-passing, their experiences aren’t necessarily those of their American or European peers. Personally, as a North African, I don’t identify with those experiences, yet I’m often lumped in with them on paper. That dissonance means the voices of our communities are often drowned out or rendered invisible in data and policy.

So again, working with the clinic just reinforced how important it is to broaden our definition of health equity. It also emphasized the need for more nuanced demographic data and better representation. That’s why we’ve been trying to conduct a community needs assessment—so we can actually ask people what they need, instead of making assumptions.

On a hopeful note, I believe the 2030 U.S. Census is expected to include a specific category for Middle Eastern and North African individuals, which is exciting. It’s a long-overdue recognition, and I hope that progress is reflected in public health and health equity frameworks more broadly.

What are your hopes for the future of Amal Clinic?

I think for the future of the clinic—personally, I’m finishing my time as part of the leadership team this summer. I won’t be in the area for a while, so it makes sense for someone local to take on my role moving forward. For that reason, I’ll be stepping back, but I hope to continue my involvement with the research team, particularly to help develop the community needs assessment. I really want us to understand what the community needs—and from there, tailor the clinic’s services to meet those needs.

We’re also thinking about how to build stronger connections with other community organizations. A needs assessment might reveal areas where we can collaborate or direct patients to additional resources beyond what the clinic offers. That kind of broader coordination could be really impactful.

Looking ahead, I hope the clinic continues to operate regularly—and ideally expands. Right now, it’s running once or twice a month, but it would be incredible to see it grow to something weekly. Eventually, I’d love to see more permanent infrastructure: maybe funded roles that allow people to work part-time or full-time at the clinic, or a more formal structure that allows it to function at a larger capacity.

Of course, I know these things take time, and I think with patience, consistency and persistence, the clinic can really grow into something sustainable and transformative for the community.

What next for you?

I plan to use this transitional period—the time between graduation and whatever comes next—to reflect. I want to really think about what I’ve learned over the past few years, and what my next steps should be in the longer term. Do I want to go back to school and become a physician? Or do I want to focus more on research or advocacy? There’s a lot to consider, and I’m excited to take the time to figure it out.

In the short term, I’d love to continue working in research—especially with diverse communities—and contribute to projects that improve access to care and promote health equity.