Kimberly D. Manning, MD, MACP Profile picture
Aug 18, 2019 14 tweets 3 min read Read on X
1/
Last Sunday afternoon, I was riding in the car with my 12-year-old son. Just us 2, riding to our (super casual) church. And talking about his first week of school.

Best part: Seeing his friends.
Worst part: Having to wake up early again.

All of it was super normal.

Yup.
2/
Him: “I’m not the best at French. But my teacher says I’m fine.”
Me: “Maybe if we go to France, you can interpret.”
Him: “That’d be cool.”
Me: “Totally.”

It was really sunny so we were both squinting. But still. Even with the sun, we both saw it at the same time.

Yup.
3/
Blue lights. Flashing behind us.

Maybe it’s not for me, I thought. I moved over one lane just in case. More blue lights. Then a chirping sound came.

Shoot. It was for me.

I put on my blinker. And tried to ignore the look on my son’s face.
4/
I pulled into a parking lot. Officer gestured for me to pull up further. Which I did.

Officer walking up. Blue lights still flashing.

On instinct, I put my hands at 2 and 10 o’clock. Face forward and neutral.

“Everything’ll be fine,” I said to my son.

He didn’t speak.
5/
Here is what my son was doing:

He was leaned forward in his seat. Both hands splayed on top of the dash. Head up. Staring ahead.

My breath hitched. I knew he was doing what we’d taught his brother and him.

“Hands where their eyes can see. You got that?”

Clearly, he had.
6/
Turns out 1 of the brakelight bulbs on my car was out. This was why he pulled me over.

Officer: “License?”
Me: *hands still at 2 and 10* “It’s in my wallet in my purse on the floor. I am taking my right hand off of the wheel to get it, ok?”

My son closed his eyes.
7/
He looked at my license. Then he walked back to the police car. I went back to 2 and 10 while my boy stayed frozen, hands spread eagle on the dash. All of it was terrible and weird.

The officer came back with my license.

Him: “Where y'all headed?”
Me: “Church.”
Him: "Ok."
8/
He let me off with a warning. As soon as the officer walked off, I placed my flat palm on my son’s chest. I could feel his heart was pounding like a drum. An involuntary response of fight or flight.

I hated it.

“You ok?” I asked. He nodded--then let out a big breath.
9/
Him: “I got nervous when you went to your purse.”
Me: “It was cool.”
Him: “I bet a lot a people thought that before.”

*silence*

Him: “I felt mad when he asked where we were going. It was none of his business.”
Me: “Yeah.”
Him: “But I’m glad you just said where.”

Sigh.
10/
And after that, we stopped talking about it. We just went on to church and rode in silence.

Service was good. The sun still shone. And our middle school review resumed on the way home.

And, from then on, all of it was super normal.

Yup.
11/
I tell this story because I want you to bear witness. I want you to know what colleagues who look like me are considering between patients and unpacking at kitchen tables with their kids after work.

Mostly, I want you to know what interrupts my super normal.

You know?
12/
And no. This is not to make anyone feel bad or guilty. Instead, it’s just me offering you an honest glimpse into what swirls around the lives of some of your colleagues, residents, and students.

And what threatens to pierce holes into sun-drenched off days. (On days, too.)
13/
And let me say this:

That officer was mostly nice. But all of it was still super complicated, you know?

My point: I think all of this is a case for diversity. Hearing one another’s testimonies broadens our scope. And just maybe increases empathy.

Just maybe.
14/
That was the 1st time I’d been pulled over with 1 of my sons. Seeing my boy instinctively put his hands up and stare straight ahead made my heart both swell and break at the same time.

Know this: What threatens daily wellbeing is NOT the same for everyone, ok?

Thanks.

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Mar 24
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2/
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Her: "Why haven't you left for L.A. yet?"
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2/
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3/
On that first day, I walked right in and told my team.

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2/
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You: “How are you?”
Me: “Me?”
You: “Yeah. You.”
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You reached out for my forearm. And then sighed again.
3/
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1/
I just finished this beautiful, courageous, and searing memoir “I Can’t Save You” by @CQ__MD. It was . . . in a word. . . sublime.

Whew.

And full disclosure—as his former med school advisor & friend—I love Dr. CQ.

But.

I also love books and honesty.

And he knows that. Image
2/
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And now I have.
And wholeheartedly I do.

But before you jump in—and you should—let me say this. . .
3/
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So hold on tight. Image
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1/
Thought I’d show some Black joy from this year’s #MatchDay. Because sometimes we don’t see that enough.

And there IS joy.

Especially on this day.

The ancestors are surely rejoicing. I know I am.

I think the words of Jill Scott will say it best. . .
2/
“I'm taking my freedom
Pulling it off the shelf
Putting it on my chain
Wear it around my neck

I'm taking my freedom
Putting it in my car
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It will take me far . . .”
3/

“I'm livin' my life like it's golden

Livin' my life like it's golden

Livin' my life like it's golden

Livin' my life like it's golden

Livin' my life like it's golden, golden . . .”
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Mar 14, 2023
1/
I had imagined what this day would be like. Played it out in my head and saw various iterations of me exploding in celebration.

In some versions, I was doing the running man or, quite literally, running in triumphant circles, #MatchDay envelope in hand.

"Wooo hooo!" Image
2/
I also saw these visions of me quietly weeping, one hand extended to the heavens in gratitude. My lips quietly murmuring prayers of thanksgiving.

See, I was my ancestors' wildest dreams. And not even just my enslaved ancestors but the Jim Crow survivors who raised me, too.
3/
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I was even on the #MatchDay party committee. And since we were broke, that meant soliciting donations from faculty & parents & anybody who felt proud enough of us to shell out a few coins.

Which, fortunately for us, was a lot of folks. Image
Read 20 tweets

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