Two years ago, I joined the Emerging Voices for Global Health (EV4GH) network and unknowingly signed up for one of the most transformative experiences of my career.

Between August and November 2024, I participated in the EV4GH programme, an initiative designed to nurture early- and mid-career global health professionals from low- and middle-income countries (LMICs). The programme combined online learning (August–October) with an immersive, face-to-face experience in Nagasaki, Japan (5–15 November), followed by participation in the 8th Global Symposium on Health Systems Research.

When I received my acceptance letter, I felt equal parts excitement and fear—the productive kind that whispers, “You’re about to grow.” What followed reshaped how I think about research, policy, leadership, and my voice in global health.

Beyond the PowerPoints (and there were many), I learned global health beyond borders. From the very first online sessions, EV4GH emphasised ethical cross-border collaboration—how to network, research, and lead without reproducing the power imbalances global health is often criticised for.

The in-person phase in Japan deepened this learning. Our 2024 cohort included 37 fellows from over 21 countries. Over two intense weeks at Nagasaki University, we engaged in sessions on global health diplomacy, climate change, mental health, planetary health, governance, and communication. Between social media cafés and peer-learning groups (yes, PowerPoint finally got the respect it deserves), the learning never really stopped.

We refined elevator pitches (try summarising years of research in 60 seconds), conducted stakeholder analyses, and explored how diplomacy, governance, and strategy intersect with health outcomes.

Equally important was the space to reflect. As a female public health researcher who grew up and worked in an LMIC, EV4GH encouraged me not just to take up space but to own it.

One of the most meaningful moments of the programme was collaborating with colleagues to develop an advocacy statement for World AMR Awareness Week, calling for greater investment in antimicrobial resistance (AMR) research and professionals. The experience reinforced a key lesson that global health is not just about evidence but influence, timing, and collective action.

And because we were in Nagasaki, history was unavoidable. Learning about the atomic bomb and its long-term health consequences grounded our discussions in lived reality. Global health, after all, is never theoretical.

What stayed with me most from the programme was not just new skills but a shift in how I understand global health. I came to see that health is not confined to hospitals or clinics but shaped just as powerfully by politics, economics, governance, and the environment. Systems thinking allowed me to reframe antimicrobial resistance as a community issue rather than a purely biomedical one.

This shift felt particularly urgent in a world facing multiple, overlapping crises. Climate change, mental health challenges, biodiversity loss, conflict, pollution, and AMR are not separate problems but are deeply intertwined. Responding to them requires planetary health and One Health approaches that embrace complexity rather than shy away from it.

The programme also pushed me to question how knowledge is produced. I learned that research methods are not neutral and that participatory and realist approaches can surface perspectives that traditional methods often overlook. Including these voices does not simply add depth but alters what solutions become possible.

I also learned that influencing policy demands a different kind of writing. Academic excellence alone is not enough. Policy impact depends on clarity, an understanding of decision-makers, and the ability to communicate evidence in accessible and visually engaging ways.

One of the most practical lessons was the importance of storytelling. Data, no matter how robust, rarely speaks for itself. It needs a narrative to travel from research papers to policy rooms to real-world action.

Social media emerged as another powerful tool in this journey, reshaping how research is shared and debated. Yet its effectiveness depends on responsible use: accuracy, confidentiality, and cultural awareness are non-negotiable.

And finally, there was feedback. Learning to separate my sense of self from my work was uncomfortable but transformative. Embracing feedback as part of the process has made me more resilient, more reflective, and ultimately more confident in my work.

Moments That Changed How I See Global Health

Several moments during the programme fundamentally shifted how I understand global health—not through lectures or slides, but through lived experience.

One of the most confronting was the power walk. I played the role of a seven-year-old refugee girl newly arrived at a camp. Before the exercise even began, I knew my story would not be heard. As the walk unfolded, I never moved forward—only backward. Meanwhile, a male colleague playing the same role stepped ahead confidently, convinced that being educated in camp would eventually open doors. That single exercise revealed more about inequity, privilege, and power than any textbook ever could.

Another moment that continues to linger is an ongoing question rather than a clear conclusion: should global governance prioritise health security or universal health coverage (UHC)? Health security often attracts funding, but its focus frequently aligns with donor interests, preventing disease spread beyond borders. UHC, on the other hand, promises equity but struggles for sustained resources. I remain torn between the two, and perhaps that discomfort is the point. The tension reflects the realities many LMICs face, navigating agendas that do not always centre those most affected.

My understanding of planetary health deepened during a visit to Isahaya Bay. There, a seawall built to reclaim land for agriculture disrupted marine ecosystems and fractured relationships between farming and fishing communities. Fish populations declined, livelihoods were threatened, and difficult trade-offs emerged. It was a powerful reminder that environmental decisions ripple far beyond their original intent, and that the absence of systems thinking often comes at a human cost.

I was equally surprised by what I learned about community health workers (CHWs) in Japan. Despite its highly developed health system, Japan continues to rely on CHWs to provide health promotion, social support, and referrals. Development, I realised, does not eliminate the need for community-based care; it reinforces its value.

Finally, Farm Unzen offered one of the most tangible examples of One Health in practice. There, horses support human wellbeing through equine therapy, contribute to environmental health by enriching soil and dispersing seeds, and even experience improved health themselves through regular human interaction. It was One Health, not as a concept, but as a living, breathing system.

My first year as an Emerging Voice for Global Health has, by and large, been transformative. The programme equipped me with skills, networks, and perspectives that continue to shape my research and policy work. I remain committed to advancing global health grounded in equity, community engagement, and systems thinking.

If you are passionate about global health and eager to grow as a researcher, advocate, and leader, I strongly encourage you to apply to the EV4GH programme2026. The learning is rigorous, the community is generous, and the impact lasts well beyond the programme.

About the Author

Grace Biyinzika Lubega is a second-year doctoral researcher in Social Sciences Public Health at Nottingham Trent University and a Research Associate at Makerere University School of Public Health, Department of Disease Control and Environmental Health.