Thread by @gradydoctor

1/
"Represent"

You weren’t nice to me. Your words were scathing and mean—the kind designed to cut straight down to the bloodless white meat.

Yep.

You weren’t an angry patient banging your fist on a tray table. Or a frustrated family member. You were a learner.

A learner.

2/
We had things in common. Undeniable things. That made the blow land harder on my jaw. And what’s worse is that I didn’t even see it coming. So it came like a ruthless sucker punch.

Ooph.

“She doesn’t really care."

That's what you said.
Knocking out my mouth piece.

3/
I told myself that I’d tried my best. That your words didn’t matter. That me trying is what mattered and that, like Maya, I would rise.

But after reflecting, I was forced to admit it. It does matter. Of course it does. Even more so coming from the ones like you.

Like us.

4/
I told a colleague friend about what you said. I was honest about how it made me feel and admitted that it hurt.

Together we unpacked it all and I looked inward for what, if any of it, was true.

Me: “She said I didn’t care.”
Him: “Why do you think she would she think that?”

5/
I tried to think.

Me: “I did give some feedback one day that was pretty direct. It was for multiple lapses in professionalism.”
Him: *listening*
Me: “I saw this brazen defiance in her face. I felt unusually mad."

*silence*

Me: "Maybe I could have been more empathic."

6/
Him: “Were you fair?”
Me: “I. . .I think so.”

*silence*

Me: “I was. . . hard on her. But. . . .” *rubbing my face with my hand*
Him: *listening*
Me: *looking up* “But. . .she looks like ME.”

I pointed to the brown skin on my hand for emphasis.
His blue eyes widened.

7/
I thought back to my years as a med student talking to my black female mentor. I was preparing to do an away clerkship at another institution.

Her: “Coat—white. Presentations—tight. You know what to do."
Me: “Yes ma’am.”
Her: “Go up there and REPRESENT.”

Yeah. Represent.

8/
Many high-achieving minority students entering majority spaces have felt or heard this. This marching order to stand as a gleaming symbol of all they thought your ancestors were not. Of all some still think your people are not.

Her: “It’s bigger than you.”
Me: “Yes, ma’am.”

9/
I went to that rotation and crushed it.

I tried to explain this to my colleague. This concept of needing to “represent.”

Him: “Why can’t you just represent you?”
Me: *staring at him*
Him: “Damn.”

*silence*

Him: “I never thought about how I get to just represent me.”

10/
Him: “Do you carry this every day? Even now?”
Me: *shrugging* “I don’t know how not to.”

*silence*

Him: “That’s a lot.”
Me: “Mostly? It’s an honor. It’s hard to explain.”

*silence*

Him: “Aaah. But you needed her to represent, too. Right?”

11/
But really, that wasn’t your job. Your job was to be an intern.

Wasn’t it?

The truth: I was harder on you than most. Beyond me wanting you to do better and be better, I had this unwritten expectation handed to me and countless others. Then handed to you.

To represent.

12/
And so. I put that pressure on you. Less concretely than my mentor did at historically black Meharry Medical College in 1995. But all the same, I did.

I thought you understood. This is bigger than you. Than us.

But you did not say, “Yes, ma’am.”

Nope.

13/
Instead, you rebelled. Resenting this demand dictated by your ancestry and previous generations that didn’t seem fair. There was no ACGME milestone that says “represent.”

“You don’t care about me,” you spat. “You care about you and how I make you look.”

Ooph.

14/
Pride offered no place for accountability. For either of us. I mean, you had indeed been unprofessional in some of your actions. And that is an ACGME mandate.

But.

You were right about how hard I was on you. I didn’t know how not to take your shortcomings personally.

15/
So you cut me with your words. Trashed me on written and oral evaluations with unapologetic fervor.

Some parts were true. But some parts were not true.

But this I know for sure:

I do care about you. I do care about me. But you are me. We are each other.

16/
My colleague helped me unpack it all. I was so glad, too.

Him: “Just keep the door open.”
Me: “Okay.”

After that, I sent a message your way, keeping the door open like he said. I said I was sorry. And asked to talk.

Your reply: Radio silence.

17/
That was a while ago. Time passed. You graduated and moved on to another program. New learners have come along and both of us have moved on. Fortunately, we wouldn’t have to interact again. So given that, mostly I pushed the memory away.

Yeah.

18/
But funny how life is with our paths. Just when you think something is behind you, life LOLs and shows you otherwise.

Yup.

19/
I saw a silhouette was coming my way and, from a distance, I couldn’t tell it was you. But by the way you slowed your feet, I could see you knew it was me. As you got closer, you stopped and just sort of stared.

I smiled. You smiled back.

And it wasn’t even forced.

20/
Me: “Hey you.”
You: “Hey, Dr. M.”
Me: "You good?"

And then you let out this tired sigh. Your shoulders sagged. We talked a bit. About what it’s like. To be us. In these spaces.

You: “Now I know you were just trying to protect me.”

Maybe I was trying to protect me, too.

21/
I gave you a hug. You hugged me back. Hard and knowing.
Because it is bigger than us.

And we have things in common. Undeniable things.

Yeah.

Me: “Call me anytime, okay?”
You: “I will. For real, I will.”

*silence*

You: “Dr. M? I’m so sorry.”
Me: “Me, too.”

I am.