Prejudice and Its Roots
As a maternal-child RN, I worked at an inner-city Chicago hospital on the maternity unit with many wonderful colleagues—doctors, nurses, interns. As a team, we cared for patients of different religious and racial backgrounds, and there was never an incident that might have created a problem due to those differences—until one day, there was.
When I came on shift that afternoon, I introduced myself to my assigned patient, worked up her chart, drew her blood, assessed the fetus and began helping her through the early stage of her labor. Though she did not speak English, all went smoothly until her husband arrived. He took one look at me and left the room. I continued helping my patient, until the charge nurse called me out into the hallway. I was relieved of my duties. I could no longer handle this patient’s care. Why? The husband had requested another nurse.
At the time I was upset, this decision made no sense. He had just arrived, his wife was doing fine, I had cared for her every need, and though she did not speak English, she had not objected to any aspect of my care. But now none of that mattered.
Angry, he spoke to the head nurse, announcing he didn’t want anyone touching his wife, but that was impossible, for he had chosen to bring her to a hospital to birth this child. He did keep arguing: this was his child. True, but it also was her child, her body in pain, her body to push this infant out into the world. And now, because her labor had truly progressed, and because of hospital policy, he had to allow a nurse on our unit to care for his wife, someone to be in the room with her, soon to help move her to delivery. Or he could have his wife removed from the hospital…more anger, though he finally made a choice..he would allow a nurse from the personnel a vailable to care for his wife, but only if it was Evelyn. His choice was a fortunate one for him, Evelyn’s skills being impeccable.
At first I didn’t understand all these changes, though I later learned it wasn’t my skill set he was concerned about..it was my very presence in the labor room, my blonde hair, my white skin. Evelyn was Black, and that made her acceptable, because of his Muslim faith…and any other nurse touching his wife must also be a woman of color. I accepted this, his wife in the bed, her beautiful eyes communicating that she couldn’t say anything. Evelyn did have more years of experience than I did—that being a comfort to me, knowing my patient was in good hands.
But the skin color thing made me curious, and so later I asked Isaac Thapedi, my sister-law’s husband. Isaac had escaped apartheid in South Africa in his teens, had arrived in America to study and become a well-known surgeon. He relayed an interesting twist in his answer: in South Africa for many many years, Black doctors could not take care of white women.
Depending on the country, the society, such demands and experiences related to health care have changed over time. But that’s not to say that we have risen beyond prejudice. In a book analyzing the roots, the incongruities related to racism, the author writes: racism messes up our brains; how we were and are raised, our various cultures, contribute to racist feelings, reactions–locking a car door when you see a person of color, or a person dressed a certain way; avoiding getting in an elevator because of who is already occupying it. Because all of us must be honest when asking ourselves if we have ever done any of these things. I want to believe that in many ways I have healed, have abandoned the most of these egregious and imaginary concerns. But for many, fear still lurks somewhere in the whorls of your pre-disposed brain.
So much of where and how we were raised, the schools we attended contribute to prejudice in this country. To fill in some of that lack, the Bill Cosby Show was genius. It showed we white folks that Black families were like white families, or Latino and Asian families. We all have struggles raising children, working and being there for our kids, knowing when and how to deal with teenagers who want to date, drive a car, forget about curfews, take on adult behaviors too soon…all the situations we must face as our children become adults. (So sad that Cosby’s mistakes pushed that show back into the film can.)
But most of us now know that there are positive decisions we can make after thinking, writing about this issue: use empathy, let understanding come before anger. Fear and anger only make a person hard, mean–and in the end, fear and anger will probably shorten your life. Watch out for that kind of stress that can mess with your heart, while making your brain believe things that aren’t true. Work for a one to one relationship wherever you go. And find a great doctor like I did–he or SHE might just be from a country you have never visited, know nothing about. Be open, ask questions, as we all now live in a global village.
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