Six months ago, I tried to write something about the Capitol Riot. The simmering fear that I’d been feeling, that I might have to walk away from my understaffed team in an act of civil disobedience if the election results weren’t certified, had boiled over into some concoction of anger, sadness, confusion, and worry about… Continue reading Letting Go
Tag: racism
A Time of Thanksgiving
I have sacrificed for you. My body. There is a persistent rash on my right chin, red and rubbed raw from 14 hour days in scratchy masks under fluorescent lights. My nose, and the noses of my colleagues, have been squished, pushed, bent, and infected by the augmented gas masks in which we sometimes fight… Continue reading A Time of Thanksgiving
It has to be someone
“He was mortified. He couldn’t believe he had missed it.” We had a new patient in the clinic, a 6-week-old healthy baby girl who had been struggling with feeding and latching. Her mother was not a new mother and had insisted over and over again to her pediatrician that something wasn’t right. On one occasion,… Continue reading It has to be someone
Nobody taught me to be racist
No one taught me to be racist. They didn’t have to. There was only one Black family in my neighborhood. The patriarch used to walk around the block every evening, just before dark, never after. I don’t even know his name. We just called him “walking man.” He always waved back. I never wondered why… Continue reading Nobody taught me to be racist
A Common Oath
My thoughts are pulled to dark eyes. Narrowed ever so slightly. Thoughtful. Skeptical. Mistrustful. We are in an exam room. In a clinic. Nondescript. I’ve seen these eyes in many different rooms. Different people, different places. Same eyes. One time, the eyes belonged to the aunt of one of my patients. She asked rapid fire… Continue reading A Common Oath
Nobody asked me... 