During Women’s History Month, we often celebrate the loud and profound voices of women in politics and social justice. Yet, there is little praise for loud voices in medicine, particularly if they are Black women. That “voice,” catchphrased as “Black Girl Magic,” is a combination of power, resilience, and irrevocable sass. Often heralded as the spellbinding ability of Black women to turn tragedy into triumph, what happens when the magic masks the misery? When strength is the illusion, what results from the unacknowledged fragility?
Possession of that magical voice has frequently resulted in death. This is illustrated by Kira Johnson, Dr. Susan Moore, and Sandra Bland: dynamic, educated women whose self-advocacy was characterized as assaults on the medical and judicial system. Exhibiting peak Black Girl Magic, these women were victims of their own advocacy. Dying prematurely after ten hours of post-partum bleeding, painfully documenting one’s own decline and medical mismanagement from COVID-19, and caving under the pressures of driving over 1,100 miles from Illinois to Texas for a temporary job, only to be arrested physically and mentally, Black women in crisis realize there is no morphine for magic.
Obstacles for Black female health professionals
That outspoken voice – that magic – is the veneer of resiliency that prevents providers from perceiving vulnerability. There is a disconnect between medical professionals’ understanding of cultural sensitivity and the anxiety and fear that women of color experience in seeking medical services. While many medical professionals acknowledge the historical aggression committed against Black women in the pursuit of scientific knowledge in anesthesia, anthropology, cancer research, and reproductive health, many fail to acknowledge the contemporary exploitation in victim-blaming, cultural reductionism, and perceived aggression in critical decision-making.
The one-size-fits-all model of labeling Black women as “angry” harms both Black female medical practitioners and patients. While sexist views may describe white female medical professionals as overly ambitious in the workplace, Black women in medicine are given an emotional overlay. It’s exhausting to have to internalize how your voice is perceived when asking for a raise, promotion, or even everyday support from ancillary staff. It is a lonely feeling.
Black women collectively make up less than 3% of all female physicians, despite the fact that 36% of all physicians are women. While Black women are just as vocal as white men, only 21% of C-suite leaders are women and a dismal 1% are Black women. Unfortunately, diversity and inclusion initiatives do not fully capture the alienation, lack of connectivity, and obstacles to achievement that many Black female doctors and health professionals experience.
Consequences for Black female patients
Similarly, outspoken Black female patients often face negative health and social outcomes. Many have been threatened with the death of newborns, loss of parental rights and federal benefits, and legal challenges by non-Black providers. This creates a compulsory need for providers that reflect Black ethnicities and cultures.
It’s time to acknowledge the lack of dedicated safe spaces in medicine for magical Black women, and how this void has caused extensive racial and gender trauma.
Hearing the voices of Black women
Even in the protest of microaggression and trauma, Black women continue to use their collective voice. Black women are the backbone of social justice movements and are known for quickly mobilizing to the polls. Yet, protections for this group remain limited, even in the legal realm. Similarly to the data on Black physicians, just 5% of all U.S. lawyers are Black in an industry that disproportionately incarcerates Black women.
How can we accurately hear the voices of Black women at the intersection of health and justice, when there are so few who understand their experiences? How long must Black women echo Sojourner Truth’s “Ain’t I a Woman?”
The reality is cross-racial interactions are stressful. However, Black women cannot afford for their candor to be dismissed as hyperbole, hysteria, or hyper-aggression. “Use your white girl voice” is a phrase all too familiar to Black women; a mandate for their competence, femininity, and humanity to be recognized. With 70% of Blacks reporting that unconscious bias has been an obstacle in their lives, the health sector must address this racial injustice. Such racial and gender taxation has resulted in biological weathering, lack of protections, and a critical disconnect in patient-provider relationships.
The healthcare system cannot continue to treat racial and ethnic value and the need for cultural sensitivity as an afterthought. It’s time to reframe the narrative, acknowledge the voice of Black women in health, and drive policy change. Until then, the medical community will continue to vilify the magic that is only praised in the death of Black women. Without immediate action, restorative justice in medicine will come far too late.
Shantel Hebert-Magee, MD, MPH, is a minority health strategist, Region 1 medical director of the Louisiana Office of Public Health, and CEO of Under the Scope Foundation. She is a former Charles Barkley Health Disparities Research Scholar and Harvard Commonwealth Fund Fellow in Minority Health Policy. Jada C. Washington is a third-year law student at Southern University Law Center of Louisiana and operations manager of Under the Scope Foundation.
Last Updated March 08, 2021
Source: MedicalNewsToday.com
