Thread by @drmeenalviz

One year ago, I protested outside Downing Street.

I was six months’ pregnant, and working as a doctor on the frontline. 👩‍⚕️

Within hours, I knew my life would never be the same.

THREAD:

Just a few days before, Nurse Mary Agyapong had passed away.

She was 28 years old, and never got to hold her daughter. 

She died at the same hospital where I was due to give birth.

I was heartbroken by Mary’s passing, and I couldn’t sleep for days.

When I became aware of the details, including attempts to obfuscate and hide the story from public attention, I knew that this was a grave injustice.

To this day, I don’t think it’s been appreciated: at the same time that hospitals were heaving with coronavirus patients, doctors' social media accounts were being monitored.

I felt that peaceful protest was the only way to send a clarion call.

More: theguardian.com/society/2020/m…

I’d never been a particularly confident or outspoken person.

My pregnancy sickness was debilitating.

At one point, my husband thought I was so unwell that he begged me to go to hospital, but I was equally worried that I would be unprotected as a patient and catch coronavirus.

I told my parents what I was going to do, and they were genuinely terrified. For my job, for my safety. 

I didn’t ask them for permission, but it was important to me that they trusted me.

I don’t think they got any sleep that night, either.

I chose a Sunday morning to protest.

Spring was in full bloom, with lots of birds tweeting.

Meanwhile, the hospital just across Westminster Bridge was heaving with coronavirus patients.

I was scared that I would be arrested, so I’d written phone numbers on my arm just in case

I walked down Whitehall, dressed in my hospital scrubs.

I stopped outside the gates of Downing Street, where I held up a sign for one hour:

“Protect Healthcare Workers”

My memories of that hour:

Pindrop silence, except for occasional ambulances hooting in solidarity.

I could feel my baby kicking. A poignant reminder of my true purpose. When she looks back and asks what I did during the pandemic, I can say that I stood for justice.

Also, like every pregnant woman ever, I needed to pee. Desperately.

I asked the police guarding Downing Street if there was a nearby bathroom I could use...

The next day, my protest was headline news in both The Telegraph and The Times.

I was featured in The New York Times.

I was featured in Indian mainstream news, which meant that my extended family saw me on TV - my parents finally took my protest seriously.

I realised the power we all have to speak up.

I realised that while our leaders abandoned and gaslighted, it was a doctor's duty to take a public stand.

Those who silenced doctors during a global health crisis must be held accountable.

Me w/ @BDUTT:

Doctors across the world contacted me because my one-woman protest inspired them to speak up.

As a South Asian pregnant woman, others were telling me that I had given them a voice.

I felt empowered to do more.

Within weeks, my husband and I launched a judicial review.

Thanks in large part to the kindness of Twitter, we raised money to fund our @CrowdJustice campaign.

We made positive change in bringing about formal concessions from the government.

bbc.co.uk/news/uk-englan…

I was contacted by dozens of bereaved families - many of them who had been a son, daughter, husband or wife of an NHS worker.

Their stories were eerily similar. They felt like they didn’t have agency to speak up.

Some of these staff had been worried about inadequate PPE.

My own story continued to gather pace.

I think it hit a nerve in society, at a time when we were all becoming acutely aware of systemic injustices.

It was a great privilege to be shot by @misanharriman for @BritishVogue. 📸

I was on the same cover as the same people I had looked up to as inspirations.

This photo was taken when I was 37 weeks’ pregnant.

I chose to wear Indian dress to represent my heritage, and speak directly to Indian women: we are strong, we are powerful.

Radhika was born on 14th July 2020.

She was my hope.

She is my hope. ❤

I appreciate the platform that I’ve been afforded.

I view it as a privilege, and with that comes great responsibility.

If I don’t always hit the mark, I’m sorry, I’m still working this out. 😅

Just know I’m always aiming towards justice. ✊🏽

I’m super-proud to have been recognised by Gibraltar, where i was born 🇬🇮

While I worked in Gibraltar, we managed to raise £15,000 for our orphanage in Kenya!

I have to thank @FabianPicardo and for supporting me - it is truly humbling.

We were recognised by Team Lionhearts.

Being a part of this team is a continued part of my mantra: “Just do good, and have a good time doing it!”

We hope to continue @captaintommoore's legacy via ongoing charitable projects:

Now, I want to help the world rebuild and recover. Which is why I’m thrilled to be a part of the @UN's campaign to get the world #vaccinated against COVID-19.

I post up-to-date information about vaccines and women’s health.
@projecthalo 

Follow me on TikTok.com/@drmeenalviz

I post this thread because I know that out there, there is a young girl thinking about speaking up or making change.

The last year tells us that the wider consequences of staying silent during a crisis are severe. 

Gently, we can shake the world.❤

What does my future hold? 

Justice. Lots of justice. 

It’s not okay to me that while my colleagues were falling ill and dying, decision-makers were silencing frontline workers.

I want to be a GP (I’ll hear about my entry application any day soon…).

Thanks to all who have supported me over the past year. 

During a time of isolation, we have forged a sense of determination and community, and I hope that many of my Twitter friends will finally be able to come round for a summer garden party with cream tea ❤