Let me wipe the dust off the account. Yep, we are still here. I’m currently on a journey to become a health provider and how I view the world is changing… changed. I have to reconcile past truths and knowledge while, making room new knowledge that saves people lives. Or, at least that is what is being sold to me, under the guise of my “education”.
“There is nothing wrong with being the first, the problem is being the one and only.” Vivian Hewitt, did not realize the impact that she would have when she shared these words with me. I am one of the few Black women in my class at Columbia University. I should be happy, proud, especially that I was accepted into my speciality area. But, the last nine months have been bittersweet. I am excited, thrilled, sometimes scared by the knowledge and how my clinical recommendations or decisions will help families. Yet, I am in a system that justifies and uses race based medicine and tells me directly and indirectly that I shouldn’t always question race and there is value in being color blind.
Why should I consider race? I find that question interesting because, I am not colorblind. I consider race and its larger implications with every patient. We already know chronic conditions such as hypertension, diabetes mellitus have higher incidence and prevalence in people of color. We also know that Black people are less likely to get pain medication in clinical settings because of stereotypes (i.e. Black people don’t feel pain, they are drug seeking or it’s just not that bad for them).
Public health frames the way that I view the world and my experiences in the clinical setting. How do I reconcile that bias that impacts patients lives, does not just lie in the system, it also lies with individuals. Individual clinicians and providers continue to help save lives or take lives based on bias. Bias that is implicit or explicit. I want to say, I do not think that providers intentionally want to kill or hurt their patients, however, the evidence is undeniable. What we are doing, is not working. And, critical teaching and/or teachable moments are in classrooms, hospitals and the places that we live, work and play every day! If professors, preceptors, and administrators do not receive social justice and cultural competency training what exactly is the path forward? If students, do not challenge those in positions of power, how exactly and when exactly will things change?
Where does that leave us? For today, I’m on spring break. I’m moving slowly and taking my time to process all the feelings that I have around this. I am a couple of months away from receiving my white coat. I am not going to wait until I get that coat to speak up. I hope that I can rest, recharge and carry the flame and passion that is needed for this heavy and trying work. I know that as long as Dorothy Roberts, Dr. Mary Bassett and the FEW administers at my school, that dare to raise their hands and always speak up. I know that I can continue on this path and I will raise my hand and speak up each and every time.
Please feel free to share the times that you rose your hand and when you didn’t. I would love to hear about your experiences in the classroom, research lab or clinical setting. Thank you.
KUUMBA: Slowly Making My Way Toward a Healing Space
•December 31, 2014 • Leave a CommentPlease note: I wrote this post on November 27, 2014 after attending a short portion of the protest at Foley Square. These were my initial thoughts after seeing and hearing many things that I found very difficult to process. Since this initial writing, I went to the Millions March for Black Lives and have recognized the many ways that I can have my own personal misgivings become a catalyst for my own activism in the Black Lives Matter movement. I am very much inspired and many of my feelings of apathy have waned. What a difference a few days and thousands of people marching can make. With this in mind, please read my thoughts and think about how you may be impacted by the current narrative and move to action in creating safe spaces for people to live throughout the world. You can also check out a few of the article links at the end that really provided me some context and a voice to identify with when I was feeling “a certain type of way.”
I usually have a pretty low level of anxiety. I usually feel pretty comfortable in my skin. I usually…
The thing is something has changed. My anxiety has been high. Super. Fucking. High. And I know it’s because of the death, the murder, the confusion, the harassment, the snark, the privilege and the many isms that I deal with everyday. Usually I block them out. Usually I am committed to my sanity. Usually I walk the fine line of love and hate that keeps me focused on my ultimate goal: achieving social justice.
The problem is I am tired and at this point, feel pretty apathetic. I am searching, seriously searching for purpose. It seemed simple. I would translate science for communities of color and low income. I would work at the edge of justice, science and advocacy. But my foundation has been rocked and now I’m trying to find my feet.
I walked toward Foley Square thinking about it. I walked toward Foley Square thinking about it. I walked toward Foley Square thinking about it.
I stood in Foley Square watching white faces snap instaphotos of a beautiful black family. I stood in Foley Square watching white faces snap instaphotos of a beautiful black family. I stood in Foley Square watching white faces snap instaphotos of a beautiful black family.
I spoke to my friend and held back tears of anxiety. I stared at the police and took deep breathes for relief. I embraced my friend with a laugh and smile as I conquered what I needed to find we.
I feel confused. I feel sad. I feel exhausted. But most of all I feel like I conquered one small piece to get me closer to WE.
A few articles/blogs that I found refreshing and imperative for my own healing process.
Remembering Our Names
Black Girl Dangerous
Peace B. Still
ReFlektionary
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Posted in Commentary, Current Events, Life Journey, The Way We See the World
Tags: Black Women