Like Street, Like Hospital
Forget 18th birthday celebrations spent walking across the city skyline. Forget trying to navigate the NYC subway for the first time. Forget watching my graduation cap cascade through the air. That was just the start of 2020. Now, forget going into the streets, forget protesting alongside my peers, because I believe “health ranks above all”. But, I am left in what feels like a lonesome middle ground, waiting to find direction. So, I debate with myself: stay home to support public health and COVID-19 efforts or support the protests that fight systemic racism.
That’s my first mistake. I cannot continue looking at these two stories -- the heart-wrenching, barbaric murder of George Floyd and the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic -- as isolated occurrences. Both of these stories are intertwined. Rooted in racism and inequity, these two stories are extensions of our society colored by the systematic oppression of communities who have inherited the disparities that define the lives of minoritized individuals.
I care deeply about issues of racial justice, and I support the peaceful protests that have affected a positive change in the community. Protests are about police brutality but they mark the continuance of a larger issue: systemic racism. I hear the phrases “dismantle white supremacy” and “fight for black lives,” but what are tangible, next steps? How can I, as a young adult, contribute to dismantling systems larger than myself? My thoughts, inbox, and newsfeed have an overwhelming amount of information about how terrible the current system’s inequities and racist ideals are. White privilege has stifled black freedom, black lives have endured the wreckage of the lethal impacts of racism. What is my place in the midst of all this, and what can I do? Long lasting change comes from addressing these fundamental institutions which enable racism and inequity to perpetuate.
And so I learn.
When Floyd was autopsied, the medical examiner indicated that it was likely he had the coronavirus. It made me pause and think about the prevalence of COVID-19 in colored communities. At first it seemed as if individuals of all colors, races, and ethnicities were equally vulnerable to the virus. But, as in many facets of healthcare, the demographic most severely impacted by this infectious disease are Black communities. Across the United States, Black Americans, who account for around 12% of the U.S. population, are dying of COVID-19 at a rate of 62 per 100,000 persons compared to their white counterparts at 26 per 100,000 persons. They tend to work jobs deemed essential leading to a higher chance of being exposed to the coronavirus. Black Americans are also least likely to have health insurance, adequate healthcare coverage, or paid sick leave. This is not novel or unique to the pandemic. These are social determinants of health that have historically been recognized as factors leading to vulnerability in underserved communities. The lack of racial contextualization surrounding healthcare continues to create drastic differences in the way people are treated which ultimately increases the risk of disease and mortality for Black people and individuals of color. From the time patients enter the waiting room of an emergency room to the time spent with doctors, healthcare services are heavily influenced by race and ethnicity. Our focus should be driven by equity: more resources should be focused communities who need it most.
And so I learn.
My journey through history landed me in the lap of America’s unjust history. What I found is startling, raw, and painful. One example out of the many was about Dr. James Marion Sim. In the 1840s, Sims, a white doctor from Alabama, performed excruciating experiments without anesthesia on at least seven enslaved black women and girls. Having received permission from the enslaved womens’ owners, Sims used these women as guinea pigs, nothing more than experimental variables. Without their consent, he performed. inhumane and tortuous surgeries to understand female anatomy eventually led to him being recognized as “the father of female medicine.” The cost was Black women’s loss of femininity, privacy and humanity. Atrocities like this are not artifacts in our history. They’re wrinkled into America’s unironed fabric.
I think about the two pandemics violating our communities and safe-spaces: neighborhood streets and hospitals. I think about the brief, yet emotionally raw statement “I can’t breathe” that George Floyd spoke while pinned against the road by police. COVID-19 patients, a disproportionate number of whom are Black, say it while they lie in crowded, underserved hospitals. Society’s investment in public health and racism go hand in hand.
For me, medicine and healthcare is about closing the gap between aspiration and reality. As an aspiring professional, I know that disparities will not vanish in the next year -- or next ten years. Tackling inequity and systemic racism begins with wrestling the fundamental institutions, like hospitals and clinics, that preserve the current cycle of disparities between Black and white communities.
Our first steps are to practice compassion and listen to the lived stories of those who have experienced injustice and racism at the hands of those promising to protect and heal. I am hopeful as I challenge myself to write about marginalized communities, that I will continue to learn and understand their experiences. The story is no longer distant to me. Rather, it is waiting for me to embrace all it is. I will continue to challenge my biases and align myself to this cause. Like the doctors and nurses erupting onto the streets in support, I will not stay quiet any longer because Black Lives Matter.
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About Aditi:
Aditi Desai is a New Jersey native and a lover of health, fitness, and wellness! She will be a freshman at Princeton University this fall where she will be studying Neuroscience and Creative Writing. As a science communication enthusiast, she aspires to make science accessible, interesting, and inspiring (did you know that the core of the Earth is hotter than the Sun’s surface?). Her written work appears in the Blue Marble Review, Keke Magazine, and Scholastic National Writing Gallery.