Black women in medicine have taken over social media and for good reason. On Sunday, Dr. Tamika Cross, a resident in Obstetrics-Gynaecology who also happens to be a young Black woman, took to Facebook to voice her displeasure at being treated condescendingly by a flight attendant when she tried to offer her medical services for an unresponsive passenger on her flight.
This story has now gone viral as many black women in medicine have shared their frustrations and support with social media trending hashtags #whatadoctorlookslike and with many people voicing outrage over the blatant racism.
Sigh!
This incident comes shortly after I happened upon a documentary on PBS about Black women in medicine that left me triggered, as the youngsters say. It was disturbing to listen to black women speak to their experiences of being female and black in medicine.
https://youtu.be/BID4whvAwr4
Being Black in Medicine Is An Isolating Experience
In 1969, 2 % of all physicians in the US were Black. That number is now about 5%. Women are increasingly becoming the face of medicine, particularly in fields like pediatrics and obstetrics-gynaecology. Indeed, these days 2/3 of Black applicants to medical school are women. #WeDoExist.
That said, I am often the sole black woman doctor on the wards. It’s commonplace for others to assume that I’m not a doctor, despite the stethoscope around my neck, my white coat embroidered with my credentials, and my badge that clearly says M.D. or DOCTOR. Charting at the nurses station, it is routine that a random patient’s family member will walk past the male doctors and nurses and sometimes past the white women doctors and nurses to stop in front of me to ask for a refill of water or ice for their loved ones.
Often, I go to see a patient and before I can introduce myself I am asked to get the bed-pan or empty the urinal. This is especially the case when the patient is in isolation precautions and I’m gowned up in blue plastic. And then of course the many occasions that the patient is on the phone or eating lunch and despite my introduction and stated purpose my presence is ignored leaving me to wonder if they do the same to other physicians.
When I was a medical resident I wore scrubs under my white coat when I was on call. Those were the days of being the skeleton crew of medical residents at night-time cross-covering patients one did not know. Night-time in a hospital feels like a refrigerator so I soon learnt to wear a fleece jacket. Often I would have to take off my white coat for a procedure or just for comfort. Without fail, I would be questioned by a night-shift or floating nurse why I was using “their computer”, or what I was doing rummaging through “their supply room”. Each time their inquisition felt hostile. Questioning my right to be present. That I could potentially be a medical resident was too illogical of an assumption. As if an imposter was willingly in a hospital at 2 am checking a patient’s lab results or trying to find a central line kit.
You Can’t Be What You Can’t See
A couple of years ago I was doctoring in the hospital and as I walked to the elevators, a young white girl about age 5 asked her companion, an older white man I assumed was her grandfather, “Why is that doctor leaving the floor?” I was stunned because this little girl identified me as a doctor in a matter of seconds when so many adults are incapable of doing the same. I credit Doc McStuffins for this incident that underlines the importance of representation.
Your Surgeon Isn’t Always Going to Be A White Man
The “Black Women in Medicine” documentary featured trailblazers including the first black woman transplant surgeon as well as a cardiothoracic surgeon. They talked about the reluctance of their patients on first encounter, about facing assumptions of them not being the surgeon, and about having to convince patients and peers that in fact they are.
It dawned on me that black women in medicine often have to validate ourselves just as Dr. Cross’ Facebook post also suggests. I realize that I have inadvertently learnt to develop a thick skin towards microagressions. It is not that I don’t experience prejudice on the regular, it is that I have chosen subconsciously to just plough through. But, I realized that it was quite possible that the disagreement I had at a hospital I worked at in the past on seeing children was rooted in this. In response to being immediately doubted I had crafted a self-defense mechanism of truly embracing my capabilities to seem confident and to know my limitations so I could honestly reassure my patients that they can trust me as their infectious disease physician, despite being young, despite being a woman, and despite being black.
Even then, when I am super-confident with the infectious disease dilemma facing me, I have had patients and their family choose to go with the opinion of a 6 ft tall white-haired and wrinkled white male surgeon for example over mine as the infectious disease physician on whether antibiotics are warranted. These rare situations are challenging because I can’t help but conclude that my age (though I am young relatively I look younger than my age), my gender, and/or my ethnicity (and my accent!) unsettles the unsuspecting patient. It feels that they are still trying to process why it’s not an older white man standing in front of them speaking about their medical condition to hear what it is I’m saying. These factors that I cannot change (yes, I realize I will grow old one day) mean I have to spend more time with each patient to build trust and rapport.
Perseverance
In telling the diverse stories of Black women who have persevered in the field of medicine, the “Black Women in Medicine” documentary is groundbreaking. I am particularly struck by the stories of the elder trailblazers who seemingly overcame barriers linked to gender and race. I mean we talk these days of microaggressions and trigger warnings but they dealt with MACRO-AGGRESSION, if there’s such a thing.
In sharing her story, Dr. Cross too is helping to shine light on what it means to be a Black Woman Doctor in America. The outpour of responses shows that her experience is not unique. I too have been the physician on a plane in a medical emergency. I was on a German flight en route to France with my sisters who outed me. The flight attendant asked me if I was a doctor, I replied affirmative, and off we went to take care of a sickly man who did not speak English, French, or German. I wasn’t badgered for my credentials nor given a quiz to decide if I was truly who I said I was. So I too find the report of the Delta flight attendant’s behaviour disturbing.
There’s nothing post-racial about living in 2016 USA. Racism and sexism continue to be stumbling blocks for all of us even in medicine. But we need to continue to persevere because only by doing so do we change history. We need to continue to inspire those behind us to not give up the struggle, to let them know that they too look like doctors.
Excellent article! Thank you for sharing your thoughts. As a physician I hope that these incidents become less frequent and I yearn for the day that they simply disappear.