Perspectives of an African-American Male in Medicine by Korey Johnson, BS Second year MD student
Imagine a life where you’re potential is predetermined from birth. Due to multiple factors beyond your control, your ceiling is set. The limit is well before the sky, so to speak. Growing up an African American male in Arkansas, a former staple of the confederacy, can come with a limited worldview. I had not realized this until recently, but I didn’t meet a black physician until my sophomore year of college. I was always an excellent student and never lacked confidence. My mother and father, a teacher and butcher respectively, were always encouraging me to expect and desire more for myself. During my childhood, I saw plenty of barbers, ministers, mechanics, and other manual laborers who shared my complexion and my personality. I could see pieces of friends, family members, and myself in them. This connection was missing from my interactions with the multiple physicians I encountered throughout my life. Subconsciously, the thought of ever pursuing of career in medicine was swept away before it ever began. In my mind, black people didn’t become doctors. This was not because I figured we were somehow inherently incapable, but because I had never seen it with my own two eyes. As the saying goes, “Out of sight, out of mind”.
Eventually I gained exposure to the medical field through volunteering and participation in the SMDEP program at Louisville. Though I began this journey later than most, I earned the opportunity to receive my medical education here at the University of Louisville. Even still, I can’t help but wonder, what if? What if I had allowed myself to entertain the notion of becoming a physician sooner? Would I be better prepared for the road ahead? Would I have established more concrete connections over the years as many of my classmates have? Then again, I‘ve never been one to dwell in the past. So now I venture to look toward the future and the possibilities in front of me. What is the future of a black male in medicine? You need not look far to see that there is a change occurring in this country. Young black men and women are standing together in force to combat social injustices suffered by all minorities. The once meager minority has become more vocal than ever before. At times I view the images of the many protests and demonstrations and feel overwhelming hope and pride in my generation. However, one emotion that also comes to mind is guilt. As a second year medical student, your schedule doesn’t usually allow leave for monumental events such as the 20th anniversary of the million-man march that occurred this past October. A part of me feels selfish for not being one of over a million people making sure their voices of heard. In that moment, I felt as though I wasn’t making a difference because of my decision to pursue medicine. It is one of the only times I’ve felt as though my path to a medical career has held me back from some Korey Johnson, second year medical student 5 thing greater. People could tell you all day long how they never felt this way their entire time in medical school but most would be insincere if they did. These thoughts and misgivings are a part of the journey and usually fleeting. The pride I feel seeing young men and women fighting for change is returned to me on a semi-regular basis. Often times, complete strangers stop me on the street. They want nothing more than to shake my hand and tell me they are proud of me. They express to me that they look at me and see potential for their sons, daughters, nieces, and nephews to do exactly what I am doing. In that moment it all comes full circle. Although I didn’t have that specific example in my youth, I can be that model for other young black children to see themselves achieve something greater. In those moments, I affect change. It is an emotion that is beyond conceivable description and an honor I never take for granted. Of course, being a black male in medicine is not exclusively positive. There are inherent fears and reservations pertaining to future practice that sometimes dominate my thought processes. Some related to general life and workplace interactions, other specifically related to the practice of medicine. As a young African American in any workplace, there is sometimes the unspoken pressure to be black, but not too black. You think twice about every word that crosses your lips, always careful to avoid sounding ghetto or ratchet. These words among others have inaccurately.
Been synonymous with black culture for far too long. Often different institutions pride themselves on offering a diverse and inclusive environment, but when examined further these words ring hollow. Diversity has become merely boxes to check on a form rather than genuine attitude of valuing others opinions and backgrounds. When executed properly, initiatives to increase open dialogue between different cultures can be very efficient in bridging gaps in understanding. As a physician in training and a black male, I feel it is imperative to equally value the culture and opinions of all people without inducing fear of judgment or ridicule of both the direct and indirect variety. My chief concern about being an African-American male in medicine can be summed up in one word: perception. Perception is 99% of reality. How others view you can determine your trajectory in various ways. So what is the perception of the 20-something African-American male is 2015? As with most things, it is not exactly black and white. Recently I was reminded of this issue when a story was published about an African American trauma nurse who was barred from a patient’s room. The father was adamantly against “any n*ggers touching my son.” She was the only nurse on duty who had experience performing the necessary procedure. However, she was not allowed and was forced to watch a child die that she had every capability to save. I couldn’t help but wonder why a man would let his child die over something so trivial. Did he believe black people were innately incompetent? Is that honestly how some individuals view African-Americans in the medical profession? For some, I will not be given the benefit of the doubt. The narrative is that I didn’t earn my position. It was given to me because of past discretions committed against people like me. The perpetuation of this false narrative is not only damaging to African-Americans of all professions, but to society as a whole. The fact of the matter is that discrediting the accomplishments of others before they’ve even had a chance to make an impression breeds a non-inclusive environment. It is with trepidation that I believe no matter how skilled or personable I am, it will never be good enough to overcome perception. That in of itself is a terrifying thought. I am aware that I have painted a somewhat grim portrait of the future. It was not my intention. I intended to write an open and honest narrative about my inner thoughts as a future physician and a black male. These issues are real and they will not go away simply because it would be more convenient for me. I intend to confront the obstacles facing me with the same vigor that preceded my entrance to medical school. The medical field has made great strides to improve diversity and inclusion of all willing to work for it. It is my hope to move the needle just a little bit further for the next generation. That is how I affect change.