Diversity in Medicine

It is well established that lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer (LGBTQ) patients suffer worse health outcomes, relative to patients who are heterosexual and cisgender – that is, those whose sense of personal identity and gender corresponds with their birth sex. The reasons for these disparities are multifactorial but include discrimination and limited provider knowledge about LGBTQ-specific health concerns.

These disparities – and what hospitalists can do to try to ameliorate them on the job – will be explored in a session at HM20 Virtual, “When the Answers Aren’t Straight Forward: Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer (LGBTQ) Health Updates for the Hospitalist.”

Specific topics to be discussed at this session will include inpatient continuation vs. cessation of gender-affirming hormone therapy (such as estrogen); management of HIV pre-exposure prophylaxis (PrEP) for inpatients; and systems disparities, according to Tyler Anstett, DO, copresenter and assistant professor in the division of hospital medicine at the University of Colorado. He and copresenter Keshav Khanijow, MD, an assistant professor in the division of hospital medicine, Northwestern University, Chicago, will share results from the Q-HEALTH (Quantifying Hospitalist Education and Awareness of LGBTQ Topics in Health) national survey of SHM members about their knowledge and attitudes regarding LGBTQ health. This survey, sponsored by SHM’s Education Committee, identified knowledge and comfort gaps in caring for LGBTQ+ patients. Most respondents say they are interested in receiving more didactic training on this topic, building on an introductory session on LGBTQ+ health presented at last year’s SHM Annual Conference. They also named the Annual Conference as one of their top venues for receiving such training.

The session at HM20 Virtual will cover the health disparities identified in LGBTQ+ populations, with case examples that highlight those disparities, Dr. Anstett said. “We will review results from Q-HEALTH, the SHM-wide survey on provider attitudes, knowledge, and comfort in caring for LGBTQ+ patients. Finally, the session will cover basic LGBTQ+ terminology and, through clinical scenarios, provide attendees with some basic skills for improving their practice for LGBTQ+ patients.”

With over 11 million Americans who identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and/or queer, hospitalists will certainly encounter patients of diverse sexual orientations and gender identities, Dr. Anstett said. Hospitalists should serve as allies for their patients, including for those who are LGBTQ+. Through this session, attendees can reflect on individual practice and learn how to educate others on LGBTQ+ health basics.

“We hope the cases we present will provide attendees with an introduction to the health issues the LGBTQ+ community faces with greater prevalence, and what hospitalists can be thinking about when they approach these issues,” Dr. Khanijow added.

Dr. Anstett and Dr. Khanijow had no relevant financial conflicts to disclose.

When the Answers Aren’t Straight Forward: Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer (LGBTQ) Health Updates for the Hospitalist

It is well established that lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer (LGBTQ) patients suffer worse health outcomes, relative to patients who are heterosexual and cisgender – that is, those whose sense of personal identity and gender corresponds with their birth sex. The reasons for these disparities are multifactorial but include discrimination and limited provider knowledge about LGBTQ-specific health concerns.

These disparities – and what hospitalists can do to try to ameliorate them on the job – will be explored in a session at HM20 Virtual, “When the Answers Aren’t Straight Forward: Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer (LGBTQ) Health Updates for the Hospitalist.”

Specific topics to be discussed at this session will include inpatient continuation vs. cessation of gender-affirming hormone therapy (such as estrogen); management of HIV pre-exposure prophylaxis (PrEP) for inpatients; and systems disparities, according to Tyler Anstett, DO, copresenter and assistant professor in the division of hospital medicine at the University of Colorado. He and copresenter Keshav Khanijow, MD, an assistant professor in the division of hospital medicine, Northwestern University, Chicago, will share results from the Q-HEALTH (Quantifying Hospitalist Education and Awareness of LGBTQ Topics in Health) national survey of SHM members about their knowledge and attitudes regarding LGBTQ health. This survey, sponsored by SHM’s Education Committee, identified knowledge and comfort gaps in caring for LGBTQ+ patients. Most respondents say they are interested in receiving more didactic training on this topic, building on an introductory session on LGBTQ+ health presented at last year’s SHM Annual Conference. They also named the Annual Conference as one of their top venues for receiving such training.

The session at HM20 Virtual will cover the health disparities identified in LGBTQ+ populations, with case examples that highlight those disparities, Dr. Anstett said. “We will review results from Q-HEALTH, the SHM-wide survey on provider attitudes, knowledge, and comfort in caring for LGBTQ+ patients. Finally, the session will cover basic LGBTQ+ terminology and, through clinical scenarios, provide attendees with some basic skills for improving their practice for LGBTQ+ patients.”

With over 11 million Americans who identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and/or queer, hospitalists will certainly encounter patients of diverse sexual orientations and gender identities, Dr. Anstett said. Hospitalists should serve as allies for their patients, including for those who are LGBTQ+. Through this session, attendees can reflect on individual practice and learn how to educate others on LGBTQ+ health basics.

“We hope the cases we present will provide attendees with an introduction to the health issues the LGBTQ+ community faces with greater prevalence, and what hospitalists can be thinking about when they approach these issues,” Dr. Khanijow added.

Dr. Anstett and Dr. Khanijow had no relevant financial conflicts to disclose.

When the Answers Aren’t Straight Forward: Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer (LGBTQ) Health Updates for the Hospitalist

It is well established that lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer (LGBTQ) patients suffer worse health outcomes, relative to patients who are heterosexual and cisgender – that is, those whose sense of personal identity and gender corresponds with their birth sex. The reasons for these disparities are multifactorial but include discrimination and limited provider knowledge about LGBTQ-specific health concerns.

These disparities – and what hospitalists can do to try to ameliorate them on the job – will be explored in a session at HM20 Virtual, “When the Answers Aren’t Straight Forward: Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer (LGBTQ) Health Updates for the Hospitalist.”

Specific topics to be discussed at this session will include inpatient continuation vs. cessation of gender-affirming hormone therapy (such as estrogen); management of HIV pre-exposure prophylaxis (PrEP) for inpatients; and systems disparities, according to Tyler Anstett, DO, copresenter and assistant professor in the division of hospital medicine at the University of Colorado. He and copresenter Keshav Khanijow, MD, an assistant professor in the division of hospital medicine, Northwestern University, Chicago, will share results from the Q-HEALTH (Quantifying Hospitalist Education and Awareness of LGBTQ Topics in Health) national survey of SHM members about their knowledge and attitudes regarding LGBTQ health. This survey, sponsored by SHM’s Education Committee, identified knowledge and comfort gaps in caring for LGBTQ+ patients. Most respondents say they are interested in receiving more didactic training on this topic, building on an introductory session on LGBTQ+ health presented at last year’s SHM Annual Conference. They also named the Annual Conference as one of their top venues for receiving such training.

The session at HM20 Virtual will cover the health disparities identified in LGBTQ+ populations, with case examples that highlight those disparities, Dr. Anstett said. “We will review results from Q-HEALTH, the SHM-wide survey on provider attitudes, knowledge, and comfort in caring for LGBTQ+ patients. Finally, the session will cover basic LGBTQ+ terminology and, through clinical scenarios, provide attendees with some basic skills for improving their practice for LGBTQ+ patients.”

With over 11 million Americans who identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and/or queer, hospitalists will certainly encounter patients of diverse sexual orientations and gender identities, Dr. Anstett said. Hospitalists should serve as allies for their patients, including for those who are LGBTQ+. Through this session, attendees can reflect on individual practice and learn how to educate others on LGBTQ+ health basics.

“We hope the cases we present will provide attendees with an introduction to the health issues the LGBTQ+ community faces with greater prevalence, and what hospitalists can be thinking about when they approach these issues,” Dr. Khanijow added.

Dr. Anstett and Dr. Khanijow had no relevant financial conflicts to disclose.

When the Answers Aren’t Straight Forward: Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer (LGBTQ) Health Updates for the Hospitalist

“We cannot teach people to withhold judgment; judgments are embedded in the way we view objects. I do not see a “tree”; I see a pleasant or an ugly tree. It is not possible without great, paralyzing effort to strip these small values we attach to matters. Likewise, it is not possible to hold a situation in one’s head without some element of bias” – Nassim Nicholas Taleb, MBA, PhD, “The Black Swan.”

Each morning I see the hungry ghosts congregate at the end of the alley behind my office waiting for their addiction clinic appointments (Maté G. “In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts, Close Encounters with Addiction” Berkeley, Calif.: North Atlantic Books, 2008). The fast food restaurant and the convenience store won’t let them linger, so there they sit on the curb in the saddest magpie’s row in the world. They have lip, nose, and eyebrow piercings, and lightning bolts tattooed up their cheeks. They all have backpacks, a few even rolling suitcases. They are opioid addicts, and almost all young, White adults. There they sit, once-innocent young girls, now worn and hardened, and vicious-looking young men, all with downcast empty eyes and miserable expressions. They are a frightening group marginalized by their addiction.
 

Opioid addiction became a national focus of attention with clarion calls for treatment, which resulted in legislative funding for treatment, restrictions on prescribing, and readily available Narcan. Physicians have greatly reduced their prescribing of narcotics and overdose death rates have dropped, but the drug crisis has not gone away, it has only been recently overshadowed by COVID-19.

The most ironic part of the current opioid epidemic and overdose deaths, and the other three bloodborne horsemen of death – endocarditis; hepatitis B, C, and D; and HIV – was that these scourges were affecting the Black community 40 years ago when, in my view, no one seemed to care. There was no addiction counseling, no treatment centers, and law enforcement would visit only with hopes of making a dealer’s arrest. Not until it became a White suburban issue, did this public health problem become recognized as something to act on. This is of course a result of racism, but there is a broader lesson here.

Humans may be naturally bigoted toward any marginalized or minority group. I recall working in the HIV clinic (before it was called HIV) in Dallas in the mid-1980s. The county refused to pay for zidovudine, which was very expensive at the time, and was sued to supply medication for a group marginalized by their sexual orientation. The AIDS epidemic was initially ignored, with the virus spreading to intravenous drug users and eventually to the broader population, which is when effective treatments became a priority.

Physicians and society should pay close attention to the ills of our marginalized communities. Because of isolation from health care, they are the medical canaries in the coal mine for all of us. Medical issues and infectious diseases identified there should be a priority and solutions sought and applied. This not only would benefit the marginalized group and ease their suffering, but would be salutary to society as a whole, because they surely will be coming everyone’s way.

COVID-19 highlights this. The working poor live in close quarters and most rely on crowded public transportation, and so a respiratory illness spreads rapidly in a population that cannot practically physically distance and probably cannot afford face masks, or alcohol hand gel.

As noted above, we have a persistent illegal drug epidemic. We also have a resurgence in venereal disease and tuberculosis, much of it drug resistant, which again is concentrated in our marginalized populations. Meanwhile, we have been cutting spending on public health, while we obviously need more resources devoted to public and community health.

When we step back and look, there are public health issues everywhere. We could eliminate 90% of cervical cancer and most of the oropharyngeal cancer with use of a very effective vaccine, but we struggle to get it paid for and to convince the public of its ultimate good.

Another example is in Ohio, where we raised the age to purchase tobacco to 21, which is laudable. But children of any age can still access tanning beds, which dramatically raises their lifetime risk of melanoma, often using a note from their “parents” that they write for each other on the car hood in the strip mall parking lot. This group of mostly young white women could also be considered a marginalized group despite their disposable income because of their belief in personal invincibility and false impressions of a tan conferring beauty and vitality repeated endlessly in their echo chamber of social media impressions.

Perhaps we should gauge the state of our public health by the health status of the most oppressed group of all, the incarcerated. Is it really possible that we don’t routinely test for and treat hepatitis C in many of our prisons? Is this indifference because the incarcerated are again a largely minority group and hepatitis C is spread by intravenous drug use?

Solutions and interventions for these problems range widely in cost, but all would eventually save the greater society money and alleviate great misery for those affected.

Perhaps we should be talking about the decriminalization of drug use. The drugs are already here and the consequences apparent, including overflowing prisons and out of control gun violence. This is a much thornier discussion, but seems at the root of many of our problems.

Bigotry is insidious and will take a long and continuing active effort to combat. As Dr. Taleb notes in the introductory quote, it requires a constant, tiring, deliberate mental effort to be mindful of one’s biases. As physicians, we have always been careful to try and treat all patients without bias, but this is not enough. We must become more insistent about the funding and application of public health measures.

Recognizing and treating the medical problems of our marginalized populations seems a doable first step while our greater society struggles with mental bias toward marginalized groups. Reducing the health burdens of these groups can only help them in their life struggles and will benefit all.

Someone once told me that the cold wind in the ghetto eventually blows out into the suburbs, and they were right. As physicians and a society, we should be insistent about correcting medical injustices beforehand. Let’s get started.
 

Dr. Coldiron is in private practice but maintains a clinical assistant professorship at the University of Cincinnati. He cares for patients, teaches medical students and residents, and has several active clinical research projects. Dr. Coldiron is the author of more than 80 scientific letters, papers, and several book chapters, and he speaks frequently on a variety of topics. He is a past president of the American Academy of Dermatology. Write to him at [email protected]

“We cannot teach people to withhold judgment; judgments are embedded in the way we view objects. I do not see a “tree”; I see a pleasant or an ugly tree. It is not possible without great, paralyzing effort to strip these small values we attach to matters. Likewise, it is not possible to hold a situation in one’s head without some element of bias” – Nassim Nicholas Taleb, MBA, PhD, “The Black Swan.”

Each morning I see the hungry ghosts congregate at the end of the alley behind my office waiting for their addiction clinic appointments (Maté G. “In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts, Close Encounters with Addiction” Berkeley, Calif.: North Atlantic Books, 2008). The fast food restaurant and the convenience store won’t let them linger, so there they sit on the curb in the saddest magpie’s row in the world. They have lip, nose, and eyebrow piercings, and lightning bolts tattooed up their cheeks. They all have backpacks, a few even rolling suitcases. They are opioid addicts, and almost all young, White adults. There they sit, once-innocent young girls, now worn and hardened, and vicious-looking young men, all with downcast empty eyes and miserable expressions. They are a frightening group marginalized by their addiction.
 

Opioid addiction became a national focus of attention with clarion calls for treatment, which resulted in legislative funding for treatment, restrictions on prescribing, and readily available Narcan. Physicians have greatly reduced their prescribing of narcotics and overdose death rates have dropped, but the drug crisis has not gone away, it has only been recently overshadowed by COVID-19.

The most ironic part of the current opioid epidemic and overdose deaths, and the other three bloodborne horsemen of death – endocarditis; hepatitis B, C, and D; and HIV – was that these scourges were affecting the Black community 40 years ago when, in my view, no one seemed to care. There was no addiction counseling, no treatment centers, and law enforcement would visit only with hopes of making a dealer’s arrest. Not until it became a White suburban issue, did this public health problem become recognized as something to act on. This is of course a result of racism, but there is a broader lesson here.

Humans may be naturally bigoted toward any marginalized or minority group. I recall working in the HIV clinic (before it was called HIV) in Dallas in the mid-1980s. The county refused to pay for zidovudine, which was very expensive at the time, and was sued to supply medication for a group marginalized by their sexual orientation. The AIDS epidemic was initially ignored, with the virus spreading to intravenous drug users and eventually to the broader population, which is when effective treatments became a priority.

Physicians and society should pay close attention to the ills of our marginalized communities. Because of isolation from health care, they are the medical canaries in the coal mine for all of us. Medical issues and infectious diseases identified there should be a priority and solutions sought and applied. This not only would benefit the marginalized group and ease their suffering, but would be salutary to society as a whole, because they surely will be coming everyone’s way.

COVID-19 highlights this. The working poor live in close quarters and most rely on crowded public transportation, and so a respiratory illness spreads rapidly in a population that cannot practically physically distance and probably cannot afford face masks, or alcohol hand gel.

As noted above, we have a persistent illegal drug epidemic. We also have a resurgence in venereal disease and tuberculosis, much of it drug resistant, which again is concentrated in our marginalized populations. Meanwhile, we have been cutting spending on public health, while we obviously need more resources devoted to public and community health.

When we step back and look, there are public health issues everywhere. We could eliminate 90% of cervical cancer and most of the oropharyngeal cancer with use of a very effective vaccine, but we struggle to get it paid for and to convince the public of its ultimate good.

Another example is in Ohio, where we raised the age to purchase tobacco to 21, which is laudable. But children of any age can still access tanning beds, which dramatically raises their lifetime risk of melanoma, often using a note from their “parents” that they write for each other on the car hood in the strip mall parking lot. This group of mostly young white women could also be considered a marginalized group despite their disposable income because of their belief in personal invincibility and false impressions of a tan conferring beauty and vitality repeated endlessly in their echo chamber of social media impressions.

Perhaps we should gauge the state of our public health by the health status of the most oppressed group of all, the incarcerated. Is it really possible that we don’t routinely test for and treat hepatitis C in many of our prisons? Is this indifference because the incarcerated are again a largely minority group and hepatitis C is spread by intravenous drug use?

Solutions and interventions for these problems range widely in cost, but all would eventually save the greater society money and alleviate great misery for those affected.

Perhaps we should be talking about the decriminalization of drug use. The drugs are already here and the consequences apparent, including overflowing prisons and out of control gun violence. This is a much thornier discussion, but seems at the root of many of our problems.

Bigotry is insidious and will take a long and continuing active effort to combat. As Dr. Taleb notes in the introductory quote, it requires a constant, tiring, deliberate mental effort to be mindful of one’s biases. As physicians, we have always been careful to try and treat all patients without bias, but this is not enough. We must become more insistent about the funding and application of public health measures.

Recognizing and treating the medical problems of our marginalized populations seems a doable first step while our greater society struggles with mental bias toward marginalized groups. Reducing the health burdens of these groups can only help them in their life struggles and will benefit all.

Someone once told me that the cold wind in the ghetto eventually blows out into the suburbs, and they were right. As physicians and a society, we should be insistent about correcting medical injustices beforehand. Let’s get started.
 

Dr. Coldiron is in private practice but maintains a clinical assistant professorship at the University of Cincinnati. He cares for patients, teaches medical students and residents, and has several active clinical research projects. Dr. Coldiron is the author of more than 80 scientific letters, papers, and several book chapters, and he speaks frequently on a variety of topics. He is a past president of the American Academy of Dermatology. Write to him at [email protected]

“We cannot teach people to withhold judgment; judgments are embedded in the way we view objects. I do not see a “tree”; I see a pleasant or an ugly tree. It is not possible without great, paralyzing effort to strip these small values we attach to matters. Likewise, it is not possible to hold a situation in one’s head without some element of bias” – Nassim Nicholas Taleb, MBA, PhD, “The Black Swan.”

Each morning I see the hungry ghosts congregate at the end of the alley behind my office waiting for their addiction clinic appointments (Maté G. “In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts, Close Encounters with Addiction” Berkeley, Calif.: North Atlantic Books, 2008). The fast food restaurant and the convenience store won’t let them linger, so there they sit on the curb in the saddest magpie’s row in the world. They have lip, nose, and eyebrow piercings, and lightning bolts tattooed up their cheeks. They all have backpacks, a few even rolling suitcases. They are opioid addicts, and almost all young, White adults. There they sit, once-innocent young girls, now worn and hardened, and vicious-looking young men, all with downcast empty eyes and miserable expressions. They are a frightening group marginalized by their addiction.
 

Opioid addiction became a national focus of attention with clarion calls for treatment, which resulted in legislative funding for treatment, restrictions on prescribing, and readily available Narcan. Physicians have greatly reduced their prescribing of narcotics and overdose death rates have dropped, but the drug crisis has not gone away, it has only been recently overshadowed by COVID-19.

The most ironic part of the current opioid epidemic and overdose deaths, and the other three bloodborne horsemen of death – endocarditis; hepatitis B, C, and D; and HIV – was that these scourges were affecting the Black community 40 years ago when, in my view, no one seemed to care. There was no addiction counseling, no treatment centers, and law enforcement would visit only with hopes of making a dealer’s arrest. Not until it became a White suburban issue, did this public health problem become recognized as something to act on. This is of course a result of racism, but there is a broader lesson here.

Humans may be naturally bigoted toward any marginalized or minority group. I recall working in the HIV clinic (before it was called HIV) in Dallas in the mid-1980s. The county refused to pay for zidovudine, which was very expensive at the time, and was sued to supply medication for a group marginalized by their sexual orientation. The AIDS epidemic was initially ignored, with the virus spreading to intravenous drug users and eventually to the broader population, which is when effective treatments became a priority.

Physicians and society should pay close attention to the ills of our marginalized communities. Because of isolation from health care, they are the medical canaries in the coal mine for all of us. Medical issues and infectious diseases identified there should be a priority and solutions sought and applied. This not only would benefit the marginalized group and ease their suffering, but would be salutary to society as a whole, because they surely will be coming everyone’s way.

COVID-19 highlights this. The working poor live in close quarters and most rely on crowded public transportation, and so a respiratory illness spreads rapidly in a population that cannot practically physically distance and probably cannot afford face masks, or alcohol hand gel.

As noted above, we have a persistent illegal drug epidemic. We also have a resurgence in venereal disease and tuberculosis, much of it drug resistant, which again is concentrated in our marginalized populations. Meanwhile, we have been cutting spending on public health, while we obviously need more resources devoted to public and community health.

When we step back and look, there are public health issues everywhere. We could eliminate 90% of cervical cancer and most of the oropharyngeal cancer with use of a very effective vaccine, but we struggle to get it paid for and to convince the public of its ultimate good.

Another example is in Ohio, where we raised the age to purchase tobacco to 21, which is laudable. But children of any age can still access tanning beds, which dramatically raises their lifetime risk of melanoma, often using a note from their “parents” that they write for each other on the car hood in the strip mall parking lot. This group of mostly young white women could also be considered a marginalized group despite their disposable income because of their belief in personal invincibility and false impressions of a tan conferring beauty and vitality repeated endlessly in their echo chamber of social media impressions.

Perhaps we should gauge the state of our public health by the health status of the most oppressed group of all, the incarcerated. Is it really possible that we don’t routinely test for and treat hepatitis C in many of our prisons? Is this indifference because the incarcerated are again a largely minority group and hepatitis C is spread by intravenous drug use?

Solutions and interventions for these problems range widely in cost, but all would eventually save the greater society money and alleviate great misery for those affected.

Perhaps we should be talking about the decriminalization of drug use. The drugs are already here and the consequences apparent, including overflowing prisons and out of control gun violence. This is a much thornier discussion, but seems at the root of many of our problems.

Bigotry is insidious and will take a long and continuing active effort to combat. As Dr. Taleb notes in the introductory quote, it requires a constant, tiring, deliberate mental effort to be mindful of one’s biases. As physicians, we have always been careful to try and treat all patients without bias, but this is not enough. We must become more insistent about the funding and application of public health measures.

Recognizing and treating the medical problems of our marginalized populations seems a doable first step while our greater society struggles with mental bias toward marginalized groups. Reducing the health burdens of these groups can only help them in their life struggles and will benefit all.

Someone once told me that the cold wind in the ghetto eventually blows out into the suburbs, and they were right. As physicians and a society, we should be insistent about correcting medical injustices beforehand. Let’s get started.
 

Dr. Coldiron is in private practice but maintains a clinical assistant professorship at the University of Cincinnati. He cares for patients, teaches medical students and residents, and has several active clinical research projects. Dr. Coldiron is the author of more than 80 scientific letters, papers, and several book chapters, and he speaks frequently on a variety of topics. He is a past president of the American Academy of Dermatology. Write to him at [email protected]

A sense of safety and stability, both emotional and physical, is crucial in promoting the healthy development of youth. Between the global pandemic, need for social distancing, economic downturn, and increased awareness of racial disparities, for many this sense of stability has been rattled.

Ryan McVay/ThinkStock

School closures have led to a loss of social interaction, challenges to continued academic growth, and, for some students, lack of access to nutrition and increased food insecurity. For students with learning or mental health challenges, closures may have eliminated or significantly reduced desperately needed supports received in school.¹ While these trying circumstances have been difficult for many, the transition back to school in the fall also may be challenging because of the uncertainty about what this will look like and possible change in routine. Some students or their families may have anxiety about returning, either because of a history of adverse experiences at school such as bullying, or because of fears about exposure for themselves or others to severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-CoV-2).

The past several months also brought about greater awareness of systemic racial disparities, whether as reflected in health care, education, or the criminal justice system. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention data, Latinx and African-American individuals in the United States have had a threefold greater chance of contracting SARS-CoV-2 and have a twofold greater risk of death, compared with white people in the same communities.² Other social determinants of health – economic stability, education, social factors such as incarceration and discrimination, and neighborhood factors including access to healthy food – play a role in this vulnerability.

The pandemic has resulted in a need for social distancing, and as a result, isolation. Children and teens exposed to the news may have anxiety about what they see or hear. Additional pressures in the family can include economic uncertainty, loss of employment for the primary wage earner of the household, or stress related to family members being first responders.

Any one of these factors is a potentially significant stressor, so how do we best support youth to help them survive and hopefully thrive during this time?
 

• It is important to establish a sense of routine; this can help create a sense of stability and safety. Recognizing that circumstances are not the same as they were 5 or 6 months ago, encouraging structure should not come at the cost of preserving connection.
• Note positive behavior and choices made by children and make sure they know it was observed.
• Many children have experienced increased screen time with the lack of structure of the traditional school day or summer camp and extracurricular activities. Limiting screen time and being mindful of its potential impact on mood is prudent.
• Self-care for parents and guardians is important. This is clearly a marathon and not a sprint; parents’ caring for themselves will place them in a better position to support their children. This time is stressful for the adults of the household, let alone children who are learning self-regulation skills.
• Listen to children’s or teens’ concerns and share information in developmentally appropriate ways. It is okay to not have all of the answers.
• Balance fostering a sense of gratitude with not invalidating a child’s or teen’s experience. Showing empathy during this time is vital. While there may be other soccer seasons, it is normal to experience grief about the loss of experiences during this time.
• Parents and guardians know their children best, so it is prudent for them to be mindful of concerning changes such as an increase in sadness, anxiety, or irritability that negatively impacts daily functioning such as sleeping, eating, or relationships with family and friends.
• Promote social interactions with appropriate safeguards in place. Unfortunately, the number of SARS-CoV-2 infections is increasing in multiple states, and there is the potential to return to some of the previous restrictions. However, encouraging social interaction while following local guidelines and with cautions such as limiting the number of people present, meeting outside, or considering interacting with others who are similarly social distancing can help foster social connection and development.
• Maintain connection digitally when in-person contact is not an option.³ Social groups, places of worship, and other activities have been agile in developing virtual communities. Communication by voice and/or video is thought to be more powerful than by written communication (text, email) alone.⁴ However, it is important to consider those who may have limited to no access to electronic methods.
• Encourage open communication with children about diversity and bias, and consider how our interactions with others may affect our children’s perspectives.⁵
• As providers, it is crucial that we address structural and institutional systems that negatively impact the health, safety, and access to care including our Black, indigenous, and people of color (BIPOC) and lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender/transsexual, queer/questioning, intersex, and allied/asexual/aromantic/agender (LGBTQIA) patients.

Dr. Strange is an assistant professor in the department of psychiatry at the University of Vermont Medical Center and University of Vermont Robert Larner College of Medicine, both in Burlington. She works with children and adolescents. Dr. Strange has no relevant financial disclosures. Email her at [email protected].

Online resources for parents and families

• Child Mind Institute: Coping With the Coronavirus Crisis: Supporting Your Kids.
• American Psychological Association: Talking with children about discrimination.
• Common Sense Media: Help with determining appropriateness of media for children.

Hotlines

• National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255
• GLBT National Hotline: 888-843-4564
• The California Peer-Run Warm Line: 1-855-845-7415
• Trevor Project: 866-488-7386 or text TREVOR to 1-202-304-1200
• Trans Lifeline: 877-565-8860
• Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741

References

1. JAMA Pediatr. 2020 Apr 14. doi: 10.1001/jamapediatrics.2020.1456.

2. CDC: COVID-19 in Racial and Ethnic Minority Groups.

3. JAMA. 2020 Mar 23. doi: 10.1001/jama.2020.4469.

4. JAMA Intern Med. 2020 Apr 10. doi: 10.1001/jamainternmed.2020.1562.

5. American Psychological Association: Talking with children about discrimination.

A sense of safety and stability, both emotional and physical, is crucial in promoting the healthy development of youth. Between the global pandemic, need for social distancing, economic downturn, and increased awareness of racial disparities, for many this sense of stability has been rattled.

Ryan McVay/ThinkStock

School closures have led to a loss of social interaction, challenges to continued academic growth, and, for some students, lack of access to nutrition and increased food insecurity. For students with learning or mental health challenges, closures may have eliminated or significantly reduced desperately needed supports received in school.¹ While these trying circumstances have been difficult for many, the transition back to school in the fall also may be challenging because of the uncertainty about what this will look like and possible change in routine. Some students or their families may have anxiety about returning, either because of a history of adverse experiences at school such as bullying, or because of fears about exposure for themselves or others to severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-CoV-2).

The past several months also brought about greater awareness of systemic racial disparities, whether as reflected in health care, education, or the criminal justice system. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention data, Latinx and African-American individuals in the United States have had a threefold greater chance of contracting SARS-CoV-2 and have a twofold greater risk of death, compared with white people in the same communities.² Other social determinants of health – economic stability, education, social factors such as incarceration and discrimination, and neighborhood factors including access to healthy food – play a role in this vulnerability.

The pandemic has resulted in a need for social distancing, and as a result, isolation. Children and teens exposed to the news may have anxiety about what they see or hear. Additional pressures in the family can include economic uncertainty, loss of employment for the primary wage earner of the household, or stress related to family members being first responders.

Any one of these factors is a potentially significant stressor, so how do we best support youth to help them survive and hopefully thrive during this time?
 

• It is important to establish a sense of routine; this can help create a sense of stability and safety. Recognizing that circumstances are not the same as they were 5 or 6 months ago, encouraging structure should not come at the cost of preserving connection.
• Note positive behavior and choices made by children and make sure they know it was observed.
• Many children have experienced increased screen time with the lack of structure of the traditional school day or summer camp and extracurricular activities. Limiting screen time and being mindful of its potential impact on mood is prudent.
• Self-care for parents and guardians is important. This is clearly a marathon and not a sprint; parents’ caring for themselves will place them in a better position to support their children. This time is stressful for the adults of the household, let alone children who are learning self-regulation skills.
• Listen to children’s or teens’ concerns and share information in developmentally appropriate ways. It is okay to not have all of the answers.
• Balance fostering a sense of gratitude with not invalidating a child’s or teen’s experience. Showing empathy during this time is vital. While there may be other soccer seasons, it is normal to experience grief about the loss of experiences during this time.
• Parents and guardians know their children best, so it is prudent for them to be mindful of concerning changes such as an increase in sadness, anxiety, or irritability that negatively impacts daily functioning such as sleeping, eating, or relationships with family and friends.
• Promote social interactions with appropriate safeguards in place. Unfortunately, the number of SARS-CoV-2 infections is increasing in multiple states, and there is the potential to return to some of the previous restrictions. However, encouraging social interaction while following local guidelines and with cautions such as limiting the number of people present, meeting outside, or considering interacting with others who are similarly social distancing can help foster social connection and development.
• Maintain connection digitally when in-person contact is not an option.³ Social groups, places of worship, and other activities have been agile in developing virtual communities. Communication by voice and/or video is thought to be more powerful than by written communication (text, email) alone.⁴ However, it is important to consider those who may have limited to no access to electronic methods.
• Encourage open communication with children about diversity and bias, and consider how our interactions with others may affect our children’s perspectives.⁵
• As providers, it is crucial that we address structural and institutional systems that negatively impact the health, safety, and access to care including our Black, indigenous, and people of color (BIPOC) and lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender/transsexual, queer/questioning, intersex, and allied/asexual/aromantic/agender (LGBTQIA) patients.

Dr. Strange is an assistant professor in the department of psychiatry at the University of Vermont Medical Center and University of Vermont Robert Larner College of Medicine, both in Burlington. She works with children and adolescents. Dr. Strange has no relevant financial disclosures. Email her at [email protected].

Online resources for parents and families

• Child Mind Institute: Coping With the Coronavirus Crisis: Supporting Your Kids.
• American Psychological Association: Talking with children about discrimination.
• Common Sense Media: Help with determining appropriateness of media for children.

Hotlines

• National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255
• GLBT National Hotline: 888-843-4564
• The California Peer-Run Warm Line: 1-855-845-7415
• Trevor Project: 866-488-7386 or text TREVOR to 1-202-304-1200
• Trans Lifeline: 877-565-8860
• Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741

References

1. JAMA Pediatr. 2020 Apr 14. doi: 10.1001/jamapediatrics.2020.1456.

2. CDC: COVID-19 in Racial and Ethnic Minority Groups.

3. JAMA. 2020 Mar 23. doi: 10.1001/jama.2020.4469.

4. JAMA Intern Med. 2020 Apr 10. doi: 10.1001/jamainternmed.2020.1562.

5. American Psychological Association: Talking with children about discrimination.

A sense of safety and stability, both emotional and physical, is crucial in promoting the healthy development of youth. Between the global pandemic, need for social distancing, economic downturn, and increased awareness of racial disparities, for many this sense of stability has been rattled.

Ryan McVay/ThinkStock

School closures have led to a loss of social interaction, challenges to continued academic growth, and, for some students, lack of access to nutrition and increased food insecurity. For students with learning or mental health challenges, closures may have eliminated or significantly reduced desperately needed supports received in school.¹ While these trying circumstances have been difficult for many, the transition back to school in the fall also may be challenging because of the uncertainty about what this will look like and possible change in routine. Some students or their families may have anxiety about returning, either because of a history of adverse experiences at school such as bullying, or because of fears about exposure for themselves or others to severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-CoV-2).

The past several months also brought about greater awareness of systemic racial disparities, whether as reflected in health care, education, or the criminal justice system. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention data, Latinx and African-American individuals in the United States have had a threefold greater chance of contracting SARS-CoV-2 and have a twofold greater risk of death, compared with white people in the same communities.² Other social determinants of health – economic stability, education, social factors such as incarceration and discrimination, and neighborhood factors including access to healthy food – play a role in this vulnerability.

The pandemic has resulted in a need for social distancing, and as a result, isolation. Children and teens exposed to the news may have anxiety about what they see or hear. Additional pressures in the family can include economic uncertainty, loss of employment for the primary wage earner of the household, or stress related to family members being first responders.

Any one of these factors is a potentially significant stressor, so how do we best support youth to help them survive and hopefully thrive during this time?
 

• It is important to establish a sense of routine; this can help create a sense of stability and safety. Recognizing that circumstances are not the same as they were 5 or 6 months ago, encouraging structure should not come at the cost of preserving connection.
• Note positive behavior and choices made by children and make sure they know it was observed.
• Many children have experienced increased screen time with the lack of structure of the traditional school day or summer camp and extracurricular activities. Limiting screen time and being mindful of its potential impact on mood is prudent.
• Self-care for parents and guardians is important. This is clearly a marathon and not a sprint; parents’ caring for themselves will place them in a better position to support their children. This time is stressful for the adults of the household, let alone children who are learning self-regulation skills.
• Listen to children’s or teens’ concerns and share information in developmentally appropriate ways. It is okay to not have all of the answers.
• Balance fostering a sense of gratitude with not invalidating a child’s or teen’s experience. Showing empathy during this time is vital. While there may be other soccer seasons, it is normal to experience grief about the loss of experiences during this time.
• Parents and guardians know their children best, so it is prudent for them to be mindful of concerning changes such as an increase in sadness, anxiety, or irritability that negatively impacts daily functioning such as sleeping, eating, or relationships with family and friends.
• Promote social interactions with appropriate safeguards in place. Unfortunately, the number of SARS-CoV-2 infections is increasing in multiple states, and there is the potential to return to some of the previous restrictions. However, encouraging social interaction while following local guidelines and with cautions such as limiting the number of people present, meeting outside, or considering interacting with others who are similarly social distancing can help foster social connection and development.
• Maintain connection digitally when in-person contact is not an option.³ Social groups, places of worship, and other activities have been agile in developing virtual communities. Communication by voice and/or video is thought to be more powerful than by written communication (text, email) alone.⁴ However, it is important to consider those who may have limited to no access to electronic methods.
• Encourage open communication with children about diversity and bias, and consider how our interactions with others may affect our children’s perspectives.⁵
• As providers, it is crucial that we address structural and institutional systems that negatively impact the health, safety, and access to care including our Black, indigenous, and people of color (BIPOC) and lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender/transsexual, queer/questioning, intersex, and allied/asexual/aromantic/agender (LGBTQIA) patients.

Dr. Strange is an assistant professor in the department of psychiatry at the University of Vermont Medical Center and University of Vermont Robert Larner College of Medicine, both in Burlington. She works with children and adolescents. Dr. Strange has no relevant financial disclosures. Email her at [email protected].

Online resources for parents and families

• Child Mind Institute: Coping With the Coronavirus Crisis: Supporting Your Kids.
• American Psychological Association: Talking with children about discrimination.
• Common Sense Media: Help with determining appropriateness of media for children.

Hotlines

• National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255
• GLBT National Hotline: 888-843-4564
• The California Peer-Run Warm Line: 1-855-845-7415
• Trevor Project: 866-488-7386 or text TREVOR to 1-202-304-1200
• Trans Lifeline: 877-565-8860
• Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741

References

1. JAMA Pediatr. 2020 Apr 14. doi: 10.1001/jamapediatrics.2020.1456.

2. CDC: COVID-19 in Racial and Ethnic Minority Groups.

3. JAMA. 2020 Mar 23. doi: 10.1001/jama.2020.4469.

4. JAMA Intern Med. 2020 Apr 10. doi: 10.1001/jamainternmed.2020.1562.

5. American Psychological Association: Talking with children about discrimination.

As many primary care practices struggle financially, a new study offers positive news about the retention of family medicine (FM) graduates in the specialty. According to the research, at least 85% of physicians who completed FM residency training in 2014-2017 went on to be certified by the American Board of Family Medicine (ABFM).

The U.S. could have a shortage of 21,100-55,200 primary care physicians by the year 2033, says a report released in June by the Association of American Medical Colleges.

Most U.S. primary care doctors specialize in FM, according to the American Academy of Family Physicians, and the number of physicians choosing this specialty declined over most of the period of the study, Mingliang Dai, PhD, lead author of the research, said in an interview. The study is in the July/August 2020 issue of Annals of Family Medicine.

Some positive news for the specialty is that 92% of 66,778 FM residency graduates from 1994-2017 self-designated FM as their primary specialty. This represents a 2.5% improvement on physician retention in the specialty compared with the period from 1969 to 1993, reported Dr. Dai and coauthor Lars E. Peterson, MD, PhD, both of the American Board of Family Medicine. Dr. Peterson also works in the department of family and community medicine at the University of Kentucky in Lexington.

“I am not surprised by the finding and hope that it means that family medicine has continued to demonstrate its importance as a specialty,” Santina J. Wheat, MD, program director of Northwestern’s McGaw Family Medicine residency program at Humboldt Park, Chicago, said in an interview. “We have demonstrated to our peers during the pandemic that we are valuable team members and I hope that perception will only be strengthened.

“Many of our graduates feel very strongly about being family medicine physicians. Most of graduates are practicing outpatient primary care so this does strongly align with my experience,” noted Dr. Wheat, a family physician at Erie Family Health Center in Chicago who serves on the editorial advisory board of Family Practice News.

The study authors noted that 98% of those whose last training was in FM “claimed FM as their primary specialty.”

The new research provides follow-up to a landmark 1996 report that found 91% of 38,659 FM residency graduates from 1969-1993 identified their specialty as FM, Dr. Dai said in an interview.

“The statistics on the primary care workforce, especially family medicine residency graduates, have not been examined for over 20 years,” the study author noted.

“We think it is important to monitor whether recent graduates continue to practice what they are trained for,” Dr. Dai said.

For the new report, Dr. Dai and Dr. Peterson examined records from the ABFM and American Medical Association for the years 1994-2017. They tracked 66,778 family medicine residency graduates and found that 92% identified FM as their primary specialty. The other top specialties were FM/sport medicine (2%), FM/geriatric medicine (1%), internal medicine/geriatrics (1%), and emergency medicine (1%).

The study reveals the tremendous evolution of the FM residency pipeline since the mid-1990s. The percentage of women among residency graduates grew from 40% in 1994-1997 to 54% in 2014-2017, and the percentage of international students jumped from 18% to 29% over that time period.

The 1996 report found that just 23% of FM graduate residents were women during the 1969-1993 period, and only 12% were international students.

In an interview, Heather Paladine, MD, MEd, FAAFP, residency director of the New York Presbyterian–Columbia Family Medicine Residency Program, called the study “thorough.” She also made the following comments about the new research: “It’s very good news that the percentage of FM grads who practice in our field is not decreasing. Once people finish an FM residency, they stay in our field.”

Dr. Paladine added that “this study validates what I have seen as a residency program director. Most of our graduates go into primary care job, and even many who do fellowships continue to practice primary care as well as their area of focus.”

However, she cautioned that the study doesn’t address a crucial challenge.

“The key to relieving the primary care shortage will be to look earlier in the pipeline: How can we get more medical students to choose family medicine? How can we increase the number of FM residency positions and find stable funding for them? How can we support family physicians to decrease burnout and make it a more attractive field? We know our field is needed, but insurance reimbursements are focused on more subspecialty care,” she noted.

As for the years since 2017, the last year analyzed in the study, Dr. Paladine said the trends seem to be continuing.

The impact of COVID-19 is still yet to be seen, but Dr. Paladine and other experts provided possibilities for the field in light of the pandemic.

“While the nation’s health care system is strained by COVID-19 patients, we have not yet seen COVID-19-related policy changes in medical education that may have a direct impact on residency programs,” Dr. Dai said in an interview.

Dr. Paladine said it’s possible that the pandemic could actually boost interest in medicine.

“After 9/11, I saw a number of college graduates who wanted to reach out and help people and ended up switching their plans to medical school,” she said. “This may happen again after COVID.”

Dr. Wheat also offered a positive outlook for the specialty.

“I am not expecting COVID to decrease the percentage of FM graduates working in family medicine. If anything, I think it will encourage them to have a broader scope and work as leaders in health care to look out for the primary care needs of our communities,” she said.

Neil Skolnik, MD, associate director of the family medicine residency program at Abington (Pa.) Hospital–Jefferson Health, said in an interview that the study shows that the FM pipeline “remains strong.”

Dr. Skolnik, who serves on the editorial advisory board of Family Practice News, added that “it is also good to see that there has been an increasing diversity in the composition of physicians graduating from family medicine residency programs, most importantly an increase in the proportion of women, with women now accounting for over half of graduates.”

However, Dr. Skolnik noted, “it is a bit surprising that less than 1% of graduates identified as practicing geriatric medicine, given the expected increasing proportion of the population that is over 80 years of age. As a specialty, perhaps we can think about ways to encourage more graduating residents to consider geriatrics as an area of interest as there is a societal need, and it can be a very gratifying area of practice.”

No study funding was reported. The study authors, Dr. Paladine, Dr. Skolnik, and Dr. Wheat reported no relevant disclosures.
 

Katie Lennon contributed to this report.

SOURCE: Dai M and Peterson LE. Ann Fam Med. 2020 Jul. doi: 10.1370/afm.2535.

As many primary care practices struggle financially, a new study offers positive news about the retention of family medicine (FM) graduates in the specialty. According to the research, at least 85% of physicians who completed FM residency training in 2014-2017 went on to be certified by the American Board of Family Medicine (ABFM).

The U.S. could have a shortage of 21,100-55,200 primary care physicians by the year 2033, says a report released in June by the Association of American Medical Colleges.

Most U.S. primary care doctors specialize in FM, according to the American Academy of Family Physicians, and the number of physicians choosing this specialty declined over most of the period of the study, Mingliang Dai, PhD, lead author of the research, said in an interview. The study is in the July/August 2020 issue of Annals of Family Medicine.

Some positive news for the specialty is that 92% of 66,778 FM residency graduates from 1994-2017 self-designated FM as their primary specialty. This represents a 2.5% improvement on physician retention in the specialty compared with the period from 1969 to 1993, reported Dr. Dai and coauthor Lars E. Peterson, MD, PhD, both of the American Board of Family Medicine. Dr. Peterson also works in the department of family and community medicine at the University of Kentucky in Lexington.

“I am not surprised by the finding and hope that it means that family medicine has continued to demonstrate its importance as a specialty,” Santina J. Wheat, MD, program director of Northwestern’s McGaw Family Medicine residency program at Humboldt Park, Chicago, said in an interview. “We have demonstrated to our peers during the pandemic that we are valuable team members and I hope that perception will only be strengthened.

“Many of our graduates feel very strongly about being family medicine physicians. Most of graduates are practicing outpatient primary care so this does strongly align with my experience,” noted Dr. Wheat, a family physician at Erie Family Health Center in Chicago who serves on the editorial advisory board of Family Practice News.

The study authors noted that 98% of those whose last training was in FM “claimed FM as their primary specialty.”

The new research provides follow-up to a landmark 1996 report that found 91% of 38,659 FM residency graduates from 1969-1993 identified their specialty as FM, Dr. Dai said in an interview.

“The statistics on the primary care workforce, especially family medicine residency graduates, have not been examined for over 20 years,” the study author noted.

“We think it is important to monitor whether recent graduates continue to practice what they are trained for,” Dr. Dai said.

For the new report, Dr. Dai and Dr. Peterson examined records from the ABFM and American Medical Association for the years 1994-2017. They tracked 66,778 family medicine residency graduates and found that 92% identified FM as their primary specialty. The other top specialties were FM/sport medicine (2%), FM/geriatric medicine (1%), internal medicine/geriatrics (1%), and emergency medicine (1%).

The study reveals the tremendous evolution of the FM residency pipeline since the mid-1990s. The percentage of women among residency graduates grew from 40% in 1994-1997 to 54% in 2014-2017, and the percentage of international students jumped from 18% to 29% over that time period.

The 1996 report found that just 23% of FM graduate residents were women during the 1969-1993 period, and only 12% were international students.

In an interview, Heather Paladine, MD, MEd, FAAFP, residency director of the New York Presbyterian–Columbia Family Medicine Residency Program, called the study “thorough.” She also made the following comments about the new research: “It’s very good news that the percentage of FM grads who practice in our field is not decreasing. Once people finish an FM residency, they stay in our field.”

Dr. Paladine added that “this study validates what I have seen as a residency program director. Most of our graduates go into primary care job, and even many who do fellowships continue to practice primary care as well as their area of focus.”

However, she cautioned that the study doesn’t address a crucial challenge.

“The key to relieving the primary care shortage will be to look earlier in the pipeline: How can we get more medical students to choose family medicine? How can we increase the number of FM residency positions and find stable funding for them? How can we support family physicians to decrease burnout and make it a more attractive field? We know our field is needed, but insurance reimbursements are focused on more subspecialty care,” she noted.

As for the years since 2017, the last year analyzed in the study, Dr. Paladine said the trends seem to be continuing.

The impact of COVID-19 is still yet to be seen, but Dr. Paladine and other experts provided possibilities for the field in light of the pandemic.

“While the nation’s health care system is strained by COVID-19 patients, we have not yet seen COVID-19-related policy changes in medical education that may have a direct impact on residency programs,” Dr. Dai said in an interview.

Dr. Paladine said it’s possible that the pandemic could actually boost interest in medicine.

“After 9/11, I saw a number of college graduates who wanted to reach out and help people and ended up switching their plans to medical school,” she said. “This may happen again after COVID.”

Dr. Wheat also offered a positive outlook for the specialty.

“I am not expecting COVID to decrease the percentage of FM graduates working in family medicine. If anything, I think it will encourage them to have a broader scope and work as leaders in health care to look out for the primary care needs of our communities,” she said.

Neil Skolnik, MD, associate director of the family medicine residency program at Abington (Pa.) Hospital–Jefferson Health, said in an interview that the study shows that the FM pipeline “remains strong.”

Dr. Skolnik, who serves on the editorial advisory board of Family Practice News, added that “it is also good to see that there has been an increasing diversity in the composition of physicians graduating from family medicine residency programs, most importantly an increase in the proportion of women, with women now accounting for over half of graduates.”

However, Dr. Skolnik noted, “it is a bit surprising that less than 1% of graduates identified as practicing geriatric medicine, given the expected increasing proportion of the population that is over 80 years of age. As a specialty, perhaps we can think about ways to encourage more graduating residents to consider geriatrics as an area of interest as there is a societal need, and it can be a very gratifying area of practice.”

No study funding was reported. The study authors, Dr. Paladine, Dr. Skolnik, and Dr. Wheat reported no relevant disclosures.
 

Katie Lennon contributed to this report.

SOURCE: Dai M and Peterson LE. Ann Fam Med. 2020 Jul. doi: 10.1370/afm.2535.

As many primary care practices struggle financially, a new study offers positive news about the retention of family medicine (FM) graduates in the specialty. According to the research, at least 85% of physicians who completed FM residency training in 2014-2017 went on to be certified by the American Board of Family Medicine (ABFM).

The U.S. could have a shortage of 21,100-55,200 primary care physicians by the year 2033, says a report released in June by the Association of American Medical Colleges.

Most U.S. primary care doctors specialize in FM, according to the American Academy of Family Physicians, and the number of physicians choosing this specialty declined over most of the period of the study, Mingliang Dai, PhD, lead author of the research, said in an interview. The study is in the July/August 2020 issue of Annals of Family Medicine.

Some positive news for the specialty is that 92% of 66,778 FM residency graduates from 1994-2017 self-designated FM as their primary specialty. This represents a 2.5% improvement on physician retention in the specialty compared with the period from 1969 to 1993, reported Dr. Dai and coauthor Lars E. Peterson, MD, PhD, both of the American Board of Family Medicine. Dr. Peterson also works in the department of family and community medicine at the University of Kentucky in Lexington.

“I am not surprised by the finding and hope that it means that family medicine has continued to demonstrate its importance as a specialty,” Santina J. Wheat, MD, program director of Northwestern’s McGaw Family Medicine residency program at Humboldt Park, Chicago, said in an interview. “We have demonstrated to our peers during the pandemic that we are valuable team members and I hope that perception will only be strengthened.

“Many of our graduates feel very strongly about being family medicine physicians. Most of graduates are practicing outpatient primary care so this does strongly align with my experience,” noted Dr. Wheat, a family physician at Erie Family Health Center in Chicago who serves on the editorial advisory board of Family Practice News.

The study authors noted that 98% of those whose last training was in FM “claimed FM as their primary specialty.”

The new research provides follow-up to a landmark 1996 report that found 91% of 38,659 FM residency graduates from 1969-1993 identified their specialty as FM, Dr. Dai said in an interview.

“The statistics on the primary care workforce, especially family medicine residency graduates, have not been examined for over 20 years,” the study author noted.

“We think it is important to monitor whether recent graduates continue to practice what they are trained for,” Dr. Dai said.

For the new report, Dr. Dai and Dr. Peterson examined records from the ABFM and American Medical Association for the years 1994-2017. They tracked 66,778 family medicine residency graduates and found that 92% identified FM as their primary specialty. The other top specialties were FM/sport medicine (2%), FM/geriatric medicine (1%), internal medicine/geriatrics (1%), and emergency medicine (1%).

The study reveals the tremendous evolution of the FM residency pipeline since the mid-1990s. The percentage of women among residency graduates grew from 40% in 1994-1997 to 54% in 2014-2017, and the percentage of international students jumped from 18% to 29% over that time period.

The 1996 report found that just 23% of FM graduate residents were women during the 1969-1993 period, and only 12% were international students.

In an interview, Heather Paladine, MD, MEd, FAAFP, residency director of the New York Presbyterian–Columbia Family Medicine Residency Program, called the study “thorough.” She also made the following comments about the new research: “It’s very good news that the percentage of FM grads who practice in our field is not decreasing. Once people finish an FM residency, they stay in our field.”

Dr. Paladine added that “this study validates what I have seen as a residency program director. Most of our graduates go into primary care job, and even many who do fellowships continue to practice primary care as well as their area of focus.”

However, she cautioned that the study doesn’t address a crucial challenge.

“The key to relieving the primary care shortage will be to look earlier in the pipeline: How can we get more medical students to choose family medicine? How can we increase the number of FM residency positions and find stable funding for them? How can we support family physicians to decrease burnout and make it a more attractive field? We know our field is needed, but insurance reimbursements are focused on more subspecialty care,” she noted.

As for the years since 2017, the last year analyzed in the study, Dr. Paladine said the trends seem to be continuing.

The impact of COVID-19 is still yet to be seen, but Dr. Paladine and other experts provided possibilities for the field in light of the pandemic.

“While the nation’s health care system is strained by COVID-19 patients, we have not yet seen COVID-19-related policy changes in medical education that may have a direct impact on residency programs,” Dr. Dai said in an interview.

Dr. Paladine said it’s possible that the pandemic could actually boost interest in medicine.

“After 9/11, I saw a number of college graduates who wanted to reach out and help people and ended up switching their plans to medical school,” she said. “This may happen again after COVID.”

Dr. Wheat also offered a positive outlook for the specialty.

“I am not expecting COVID to decrease the percentage of FM graduates working in family medicine. If anything, I think it will encourage them to have a broader scope and work as leaders in health care to look out for the primary care needs of our communities,” she said.

Neil Skolnik, MD, associate director of the family medicine residency program at Abington (Pa.) Hospital–Jefferson Health, said in an interview that the study shows that the FM pipeline “remains strong.”

Dr. Skolnik, who serves on the editorial advisory board of Family Practice News, added that “it is also good to see that there has been an increasing diversity in the composition of physicians graduating from family medicine residency programs, most importantly an increase in the proportion of women, with women now accounting for over half of graduates.”

However, Dr. Skolnik noted, “it is a bit surprising that less than 1% of graduates identified as practicing geriatric medicine, given the expected increasing proportion of the population that is over 80 years of age. As a specialty, perhaps we can think about ways to encourage more graduating residents to consider geriatrics as an area of interest as there is a societal need, and it can be a very gratifying area of practice.”

No study funding was reported. The study authors, Dr. Paladine, Dr. Skolnik, and Dr. Wheat reported no relevant disclosures.
 

Katie Lennon contributed to this report.

SOURCE: Dai M and Peterson LE. Ann Fam Med. 2020 Jul. doi: 10.1370/afm.2535.

Ms. Jones brings her 15-year-old daughter, Angela, to the resident clinic. Angela is becoming increasingly anxious, withdrawn, and difficult to manage. As part of the initial interview, the resident, Dr. Sota, asks about the sociocultural background of the family. Ms. Jones is African American and recently began a relationship with a white man. Her daughter, Angela, is biracial; her biological father is white and has moved out of state with little ongoing contact with Angela and her mother.

At interview, Angela expresses a lot of anger at her mother, her biological father, and her new “stepfather.” Ms. Jones says: “I do not want Angela growing up as an ‘angry black woman.’ ” When asked for an explanation, she stated that she doesn’t want her daughter to be stereotyped, to be perceived as an angry black person. “She needs to fit in with our new life. She has lots of opportunities if only she would take them.”

Dr. Sota recognizes that Angela’s struggle, and perhaps also the struggle of Ms. Jones, has a component of internalized racism. How should Dr. Sota proceed? Dr. Sota puts herself in Angela’s shoes: How does Angela see herself? Angela has light brown skin, and Dr. Sota wonders whether Angela wants to present as white or whether asserting her black heritage is important.

The term internalized racism (IR) first appeared in the 1980s. IR was compared to the oppression of black people in the 1800s: “The slavery that captures the mind and incarcerates the motivation, perception, aspiration, and identity in a web of anti-self images, generating a personal and collective self destruction, is more cruel than the shackles on the wrists and ankles.”¹ According to Susanne Lipsky,² IR “in African Americans manifests as internalizing stereotypes, mistrusting the self and other Blacks, and narrows one’s view of authentic Black culture.”

IR refers to the internalization and acceptance of the dominant white culture’s actions and beliefs, while rejecting one’s own cultural background. There is a long history of negative cultural representations of African Americans in popular American culture, and IR has a detrimental impact on the emotional well-being of African Americans.³

IR is associated with poorer metabolic health⁴ and psychological distress, depression and anxiety,^5-8 and decreased self-esteem.⁹ However, protective processes can reduce one’s response to risk and can be developed through the psychotherapeutic relationship.
 

Interventions at an individual, family, or community levels

Angela: Tell me about yourself: What type of person are you? How do you identify? How do you feel about yourself/your appearance/your language?

Tell me about your friends/family? What interests do you have?

“Tell me more” questions can reveal conflicted feelings, etc., even if Angela does not answer. A good therapist can talk about IR; even if Angela does not bring it up, it is important for the therapist to find language suitable for the age of the patient.

Dr. Sota has some luck with Angela, who nods her head but says little. Dr. Sota then turns to Ms. Jones and asks whether she can answer these questions, too, and rephrases the questions for an adult. Interviewing parents in the presence of their children gives Dr. Sota and Angela an idea of what is permitted to talk about in the family.

A therapist can also note other permissions in the family: How do Angela and her mother use language? Do they claim or reject words and phrases such as “angry black woman” and choose, instead, to use language to “fit in” with the dominant white culture?

Dr. Sota notices that Ms. Jones presents herself as keen to fit in with her new future husband’s life. She wants Angela to do likewise. Dr. Sota notices that Angela vacillates between wanting to claim her black identity and having to navigate what that means in this family (not a good thing) – and wanting to assimilate into white culture. Her peers fall into two separate groups: a set of black friends and a set of white friends. Her mother prefers that she see her white friends, mistrusting her black friends.

Dr. Sota’s supervisor suggests that she introduce IR more forcefully because this seems to be a major course of conflict for Angela and encourage a frank discussion between mother and daughter. Dr. Sota starts the next session in the following way: “I noticed last week that the way you each identify yourselves is quite different. Ms. Jones, you want Angela to ‘fit in’ and perhaps just embrace white culture, whereas Angela, perhaps you vacillate between a white identity and a black identity?”

The following questions can help Dr. Sota elicit IR:

• What information about yourself would you like others to know – about your heritage, country of origin, family, class background, and so on?
• What makes you proud about being a member of this group, and what do you love about other members of this group?
• What has been hard about being a member of this group, and what don’t you like about others in this group?
• What were your early life experiences with people in this group? How were you treated? How did you feel about others in your group when you were young?

At a community level, family workshops support positive cultural identities that strengthen family functioning and reducing behavioral health risks. In a study of 575 urban American Indian (AI) families from diverse tribal backgrounds, the AI families who participated in such a workshop had significant increases in their ethnic identity, improved sense of spirituality, and a more positive cultural identification. The workshops provided culturally adaptive parenting interventions.¹⁰

IR is a serious determinant of both physical and mental health. Assessment of IR can be done using rating scales, such as the Nadanolitization Scale¹¹ or the Internalized Racial Oppression Scale.¹² IR also can also be assessed using a more formalized interview guide, such as the DSM-5 Cultural Formulation Interview (CFI).¹³ This 16-question interview guide helps behavioral health providers better understand the way service users and their social networks (e.g., families, friends) understand what is happening to them and why, as well as the barriers they experience, such as racism, discrimination, stigma, and financial stressors.

Individuals’ cultures and experiences have a profound impact on their understanding of their symptoms and their engagement in care. The American Psychiatric Association considers it to be part of mental health providers’ duty of care to engage all individuals in culturally relevant conversations about their past experiences and care expectations. More relevant, I submit that you cannot treat someone without having made this inquiry. A cultural assessment improves understanding but also shifts power relationships between providers and patients. The DSM-5 CFI and training guides are widely available and provide additional information for those who want to improve their cultural literacy.
 

Conclusion

Internalized racism is the component of racism that is the most difficult to discern. Psychiatrists and mental health professionals are uniquely poised to address IR, and any subsequent internal conflict and identity difficulties. Each program, office, and clinic can easily find the resources to do this through the APA. If you would like help providing education, contact me at [email protected].
 

References

1. Akbar N. J Black Studies. 1984. doi: 10.11771002193478401400401.

2. Lipsky S. Internalized Racism. Seattle: Rational Island Publishers, 1987.

3. Williams DR and Mohammed SA. Am Behav Sci. 2013 May 8. doi: 10.1177/00027642134873340.

4. DeLilly CR and Flaskerud JH. Issues Ment Health Nurs. 2012 Nov;33(11):804-11.

5. Molina KM and James D. Group Process Intergroup Relat. 2016 Jul;19(4):439-61.

6. Szymanski D and Obiri O. Couns Psychologist. 2011;39(3):438-62.

7. Carter RT et al. J Multicul Couns Dev. 2017 Oct 5;45(4):232-59.

8. Mouzon DM and McLean JS. Ethn Health. 2017 Feb;22(1):36-48.

9. Szymanski DM and Gupta A. J Couns Psychol. 2009;56(1):110-18.

10. Kulis SS et al. Cultural Diversity and Ethnic Minority Psychol. 2019. doi: 10.1037/cpd000315.

11. Taylor J and Grundy C. “Measuring black internalization of white stereotypes about African Americans: The Nadanolization Scale.” In: Jones RL, ed. Handbook of Tests and Measurements of Black Populations. Hampton, Va.: Cobb & Henry, 1996.

12. Bailey T-K M et al. J Couns Psychol. 2011 Oct;58(4):481-93.

13. American Psychiatric Association. Cultural Formulation Interview. DSM-5. American Psychiatric Association Publishing: Arlington, Va. 2013.



Various aspects about the case described above have been changed to protect the clinician’s and patients’ identities. Thanks to the following individuals for their contributions to this article: Suzanne Huberty, MD, and Shiona Heru, JD.
 

Dr. Heru is professor of psychiatry at the University of Colorado at Denver, Aurora. She is editor of “Working With Families in Medical Settings: A Multidisciplinary Guide for Psychiatrists and Other Health Professionals” (Routledge, 2013). She has no conflicts of interest to disclose.




 

Ms. Jones brings her 15-year-old daughter, Angela, to the resident clinic. Angela is becoming increasingly anxious, withdrawn, and difficult to manage. As part of the initial interview, the resident, Dr. Sota, asks about the sociocultural background of the family. Ms. Jones is African American and recently began a relationship with a white man. Her daughter, Angela, is biracial; her biological father is white and has moved out of state with little ongoing contact with Angela and her mother.

At interview, Angela expresses a lot of anger at her mother, her biological father, and her new “stepfather.” Ms. Jones says: “I do not want Angela growing up as an ‘angry black woman.’ ” When asked for an explanation, she stated that she doesn’t want her daughter to be stereotyped, to be perceived as an angry black person. “She needs to fit in with our new life. She has lots of opportunities if only she would take them.”

Dr. Sota recognizes that Angela’s struggle, and perhaps also the struggle of Ms. Jones, has a component of internalized racism. How should Dr. Sota proceed? Dr. Sota puts herself in Angela’s shoes: How does Angela see herself? Angela has light brown skin, and Dr. Sota wonders whether Angela wants to present as white or whether asserting her black heritage is important.

The term internalized racism (IR) first appeared in the 1980s. IR was compared to the oppression of black people in the 1800s: “The slavery that captures the mind and incarcerates the motivation, perception, aspiration, and identity in a web of anti-self images, generating a personal and collective self destruction, is more cruel than the shackles on the wrists and ankles.”¹ According to Susanne Lipsky,² IR “in African Americans manifests as internalizing stereotypes, mistrusting the self and other Blacks, and narrows one’s view of authentic Black culture.”

IR refers to the internalization and acceptance of the dominant white culture’s actions and beliefs, while rejecting one’s own cultural background. There is a long history of negative cultural representations of African Americans in popular American culture, and IR has a detrimental impact on the emotional well-being of African Americans.³

IR is associated with poorer metabolic health⁴ and psychological distress, depression and anxiety,^5-8 and decreased self-esteem.⁹ However, protective processes can reduce one’s response to risk and can be developed through the psychotherapeutic relationship.
 

Interventions at an individual, family, or community levels

Angela: Tell me about yourself: What type of person are you? How do you identify? How do you feel about yourself/your appearance/your language?

Tell me about your friends/family? What interests do you have?

“Tell me more” questions can reveal conflicted feelings, etc., even if Angela does not answer. A good therapist can talk about IR; even if Angela does not bring it up, it is important for the therapist to find language suitable for the age of the patient.

Dr. Sota has some luck with Angela, who nods her head but says little. Dr. Sota then turns to Ms. Jones and asks whether she can answer these questions, too, and rephrases the questions for an adult. Interviewing parents in the presence of their children gives Dr. Sota and Angela an idea of what is permitted to talk about in the family.

A therapist can also note other permissions in the family: How do Angela and her mother use language? Do they claim or reject words and phrases such as “angry black woman” and choose, instead, to use language to “fit in” with the dominant white culture?

Dr. Sota notices that Ms. Jones presents herself as keen to fit in with her new future husband’s life. She wants Angela to do likewise. Dr. Sota notices that Angela vacillates between wanting to claim her black identity and having to navigate what that means in this family (not a good thing) – and wanting to assimilate into white culture. Her peers fall into two separate groups: a set of black friends and a set of white friends. Her mother prefers that she see her white friends, mistrusting her black friends.

Dr. Sota’s supervisor suggests that she introduce IR more forcefully because this seems to be a major course of conflict for Angela and encourage a frank discussion between mother and daughter. Dr. Sota starts the next session in the following way: “I noticed last week that the way you each identify yourselves is quite different. Ms. Jones, you want Angela to ‘fit in’ and perhaps just embrace white culture, whereas Angela, perhaps you vacillate between a white identity and a black identity?”

The following questions can help Dr. Sota elicit IR:

• What information about yourself would you like others to know – about your heritage, country of origin, family, class background, and so on?
• What makes you proud about being a member of this group, and what do you love about other members of this group?
• What has been hard about being a member of this group, and what don’t you like about others in this group?
• What were your early life experiences with people in this group? How were you treated? How did you feel about others in your group when you were young?

At a community level, family workshops support positive cultural identities that strengthen family functioning and reducing behavioral health risks. In a study of 575 urban American Indian (AI) families from diverse tribal backgrounds, the AI families who participated in such a workshop had significant increases in their ethnic identity, improved sense of spirituality, and a more positive cultural identification. The workshops provided culturally adaptive parenting interventions.¹⁰

IR is a serious determinant of both physical and mental health. Assessment of IR can be done using rating scales, such as the Nadanolitization Scale¹¹ or the Internalized Racial Oppression Scale.¹² IR also can also be assessed using a more formalized interview guide, such as the DSM-5 Cultural Formulation Interview (CFI).¹³ This 16-question interview guide helps behavioral health providers better understand the way service users and their social networks (e.g., families, friends) understand what is happening to them and why, as well as the barriers they experience, such as racism, discrimination, stigma, and financial stressors.

Individuals’ cultures and experiences have a profound impact on their understanding of their symptoms and their engagement in care. The American Psychiatric Association considers it to be part of mental health providers’ duty of care to engage all individuals in culturally relevant conversations about their past experiences and care expectations. More relevant, I submit that you cannot treat someone without having made this inquiry. A cultural assessment improves understanding but also shifts power relationships between providers and patients. The DSM-5 CFI and training guides are widely available and provide additional information for those who want to improve their cultural literacy.
 

Conclusion

Internalized racism is the component of racism that is the most difficult to discern. Psychiatrists and mental health professionals are uniquely poised to address IR, and any subsequent internal conflict and identity difficulties. Each program, office, and clinic can easily find the resources to do this through the APA. If you would like help providing education, contact me at [email protected].
 

References

1. Akbar N. J Black Studies. 1984. doi: 10.11771002193478401400401.

2. Lipsky S. Internalized Racism. Seattle: Rational Island Publishers, 1987.

3. Williams DR and Mohammed SA. Am Behav Sci. 2013 May 8. doi: 10.1177/00027642134873340.

4. DeLilly CR and Flaskerud JH. Issues Ment Health Nurs. 2012 Nov;33(11):804-11.

5. Molina KM and James D. Group Process Intergroup Relat. 2016 Jul;19(4):439-61.

6. Szymanski D and Obiri O. Couns Psychologist. 2011;39(3):438-62.

7. Carter RT et al. J Multicul Couns Dev. 2017 Oct 5;45(4):232-59.

8. Mouzon DM and McLean JS. Ethn Health. 2017 Feb;22(1):36-48.

9. Szymanski DM and Gupta A. J Couns Psychol. 2009;56(1):110-18.

10. Kulis SS et al. Cultural Diversity and Ethnic Minority Psychol. 2019. doi: 10.1037/cpd000315.

11. Taylor J and Grundy C. “Measuring black internalization of white stereotypes about African Americans: The Nadanolization Scale.” In: Jones RL, ed. Handbook of Tests and Measurements of Black Populations. Hampton, Va.: Cobb & Henry, 1996.

12. Bailey T-K M et al. J Couns Psychol. 2011 Oct;58(4):481-93.

13. American Psychiatric Association. Cultural Formulation Interview. DSM-5. American Psychiatric Association Publishing: Arlington, Va. 2013.



Various aspects about the case described above have been changed to protect the clinician’s and patients’ identities. Thanks to the following individuals for their contributions to this article: Suzanne Huberty, MD, and Shiona Heru, JD.
 

Dr. Heru is professor of psychiatry at the University of Colorado at Denver, Aurora. She is editor of “Working With Families in Medical Settings: A Multidisciplinary Guide for Psychiatrists and Other Health Professionals” (Routledge, 2013). She has no conflicts of interest to disclose.




 

Ms. Jones brings her 15-year-old daughter, Angela, to the resident clinic. Angela is becoming increasingly anxious, withdrawn, and difficult to manage. As part of the initial interview, the resident, Dr. Sota, asks about the sociocultural background of the family. Ms. Jones is African American and recently began a relationship with a white man. Her daughter, Angela, is biracial; her biological father is white and has moved out of state with little ongoing contact with Angela and her mother.

At interview, Angela expresses a lot of anger at her mother, her biological father, and her new “stepfather.” Ms. Jones says: “I do not want Angela growing up as an ‘angry black woman.’ ” When asked for an explanation, she stated that she doesn’t want her daughter to be stereotyped, to be perceived as an angry black person. “She needs to fit in with our new life. She has lots of opportunities if only she would take them.”

Dr. Sota recognizes that Angela’s struggle, and perhaps also the struggle of Ms. Jones, has a component of internalized racism. How should Dr. Sota proceed? Dr. Sota puts herself in Angela’s shoes: How does Angela see herself? Angela has light brown skin, and Dr. Sota wonders whether Angela wants to present as white or whether asserting her black heritage is important.

The term internalized racism (IR) first appeared in the 1980s. IR was compared to the oppression of black people in the 1800s: “The slavery that captures the mind and incarcerates the motivation, perception, aspiration, and identity in a web of anti-self images, generating a personal and collective self destruction, is more cruel than the shackles on the wrists and ankles.”¹ According to Susanne Lipsky,² IR “in African Americans manifests as internalizing stereotypes, mistrusting the self and other Blacks, and narrows one’s view of authentic Black culture.”

IR refers to the internalization and acceptance of the dominant white culture’s actions and beliefs, while rejecting one’s own cultural background. There is a long history of negative cultural representations of African Americans in popular American culture, and IR has a detrimental impact on the emotional well-being of African Americans.³

IR is associated with poorer metabolic health⁴ and psychological distress, depression and anxiety,^5-8 and decreased self-esteem.⁹ However, protective processes can reduce one’s response to risk and can be developed through the psychotherapeutic relationship.
 

Interventions at an individual, family, or community levels

Angela: Tell me about yourself: What type of person are you? How do you identify? How do you feel about yourself/your appearance/your language?

Tell me about your friends/family? What interests do you have?

“Tell me more” questions can reveal conflicted feelings, etc., even if Angela does not answer. A good therapist can talk about IR; even if Angela does not bring it up, it is important for the therapist to find language suitable for the age of the patient.

Dr. Sota has some luck with Angela, who nods her head but says little. Dr. Sota then turns to Ms. Jones and asks whether she can answer these questions, too, and rephrases the questions for an adult. Interviewing parents in the presence of their children gives Dr. Sota and Angela an idea of what is permitted to talk about in the family.

A therapist can also note other permissions in the family: How do Angela and her mother use language? Do they claim or reject words and phrases such as “angry black woman” and choose, instead, to use language to “fit in” with the dominant white culture?

Dr. Sota notices that Ms. Jones presents herself as keen to fit in with her new future husband’s life. She wants Angela to do likewise. Dr. Sota notices that Angela vacillates between wanting to claim her black identity and having to navigate what that means in this family (not a good thing) – and wanting to assimilate into white culture. Her peers fall into two separate groups: a set of black friends and a set of white friends. Her mother prefers that she see her white friends, mistrusting her black friends.

Dr. Sota’s supervisor suggests that she introduce IR more forcefully because this seems to be a major course of conflict for Angela and encourage a frank discussion between mother and daughter. Dr. Sota starts the next session in the following way: “I noticed last week that the way you each identify yourselves is quite different. Ms. Jones, you want Angela to ‘fit in’ and perhaps just embrace white culture, whereas Angela, perhaps you vacillate between a white identity and a black identity?”

The following questions can help Dr. Sota elicit IR:

• What information about yourself would you like others to know – about your heritage, country of origin, family, class background, and so on?
• What makes you proud about being a member of this group, and what do you love about other members of this group?
• What has been hard about being a member of this group, and what don’t you like about others in this group?
• What were your early life experiences with people in this group? How were you treated? How did you feel about others in your group when you were young?

At a community level, family workshops support positive cultural identities that strengthen family functioning and reducing behavioral health risks. In a study of 575 urban American Indian (AI) families from diverse tribal backgrounds, the AI families who participated in such a workshop had significant increases in their ethnic identity, improved sense of spirituality, and a more positive cultural identification. The workshops provided culturally adaptive parenting interventions.¹⁰

IR is a serious determinant of both physical and mental health. Assessment of IR can be done using rating scales, such as the Nadanolitization Scale¹¹ or the Internalized Racial Oppression Scale.¹² IR also can also be assessed using a more formalized interview guide, such as the DSM-5 Cultural Formulation Interview (CFI).¹³ This 16-question interview guide helps behavioral health providers better understand the way service users and their social networks (e.g., families, friends) understand what is happening to them and why, as well as the barriers they experience, such as racism, discrimination, stigma, and financial stressors.

Individuals’ cultures and experiences have a profound impact on their understanding of their symptoms and their engagement in care. The American Psychiatric Association considers it to be part of mental health providers’ duty of care to engage all individuals in culturally relevant conversations about their past experiences and care expectations. More relevant, I submit that you cannot treat someone without having made this inquiry. A cultural assessment improves understanding but also shifts power relationships between providers and patients. The DSM-5 CFI and training guides are widely available and provide additional information for those who want to improve their cultural literacy.
 

Conclusion

Internalized racism is the component of racism that is the most difficult to discern. Psychiatrists and mental health professionals are uniquely poised to address IR, and any subsequent internal conflict and identity difficulties. Each program, office, and clinic can easily find the resources to do this through the APA. If you would like help providing education, contact me at [email protected].
 

References

1. Akbar N. J Black Studies. 1984. doi: 10.11771002193478401400401.

2. Lipsky S. Internalized Racism. Seattle: Rational Island Publishers, 1987.

3. Williams DR and Mohammed SA. Am Behav Sci. 2013 May 8. doi: 10.1177/00027642134873340.

4. DeLilly CR and Flaskerud JH. Issues Ment Health Nurs. 2012 Nov;33(11):804-11.

5. Molina KM and James D. Group Process Intergroup Relat. 2016 Jul;19(4):439-61.

6. Szymanski D and Obiri O. Couns Psychologist. 2011;39(3):438-62.

7. Carter RT et al. J Multicul Couns Dev. 2017 Oct 5;45(4):232-59.

8. Mouzon DM and McLean JS. Ethn Health. 2017 Feb;22(1):36-48.

9. Szymanski DM and Gupta A. J Couns Psychol. 2009;56(1):110-18.

10. Kulis SS et al. Cultural Diversity and Ethnic Minority Psychol. 2019. doi: 10.1037/cpd000315.

11. Taylor J and Grundy C. “Measuring black internalization of white stereotypes about African Americans: The Nadanolization Scale.” In: Jones RL, ed. Handbook of Tests and Measurements of Black Populations. Hampton, Va.: Cobb & Henry, 1996.

12. Bailey T-K M et al. J Couns Psychol. 2011 Oct;58(4):481-93.

13. American Psychiatric Association. Cultural Formulation Interview. DSM-5. American Psychiatric Association Publishing: Arlington, Va. 2013.



Various aspects about the case described above have been changed to protect the clinician’s and patients’ identities. Thanks to the following individuals for their contributions to this article: Suzanne Huberty, MD, and Shiona Heru, JD.
 

Dr. Heru is professor of psychiatry at the University of Colorado at Denver, Aurora. She is editor of “Working With Families in Medical Settings: A Multidisciplinary Guide for Psychiatrists and Other Health Professionals” (Routledge, 2013). She has no conflicts of interest to disclose.




 

There has been increasing attention focused on the lack of diversity within dermatology academic and residency programs.^1-6 Several factors have been identified as contributing to this narrow pipeline of qualified applicants, including lack of mentorship, delayed exposure to the field, implicit bias, and lack of an overall holistic review of applications with overemphasis on board scores.^1,5 In an effort to provide guidance to underrepresented in medicine (UIM) students who are interested in dermatology, the Skin of Color Society (SOCS) has created a detailed, step-by-step guide on how to obtain a position in a dermatology residency program,⁷ which was modeled after a similar resource created by the American Academy of Orthopaedic Surgeons.⁸ Here, we highlight the main SOCS recommendations to help guide medical students through a systematic approach to becoming successful applicants for dermatology residency.

Start Early

Competitive fields such as dermatology require intentional efforts starting at the beginning of medical school. Regardless of what specialty is right for you, begin by constructing a well-rounded application for residency immediately. Start by shadowing dermatologists and attending Grand Rounds held in your institution’s dermatology department to ensure that this field is right for you. Students are encouraged to meet with academic advisors and upperclassmen to seek guidance on gaining early exposure to dermatology at their home institutions (or nearby programs) during their first year. As a platform for learning about community-based dermatology activities, join your school’s Dermatology Interest Group, keeping in mind that an executive position in such a group can help foster relationships with faculty and residents of the dermatology department. A long-term commitment to community service also contributes to your depth as an applicant. Getting involved early helps students uncover health disparities in medicine and allows time to formulate ideas to implement change. Forming a well-rounded application mandates maintaining good academic standing, and students should prioritize mastering the curriculum, excelling in clinical rotations, and studying for the US Medical Licensing Examination (USMLE).

Choose a Mentor

The summer between your first and second years of medical school is an opportune time to explore research opportunities. Students successfully complete research by taking ownership of a project, efficiently meeting deadlines, maintaining contact with research mentors by quickly responding to emails, and producing quality work. Research outside of dermatology also is valued. Research mentors often provide future letters of recommendation, so commit to doing an outstanding job. For those finding it difficult to locate a mentor, consider searching the American Academy of Dermatology (AAD)(https://www.aad.org/mentorship/) or SOCS (https://skinofcolorsociety.org/) websites. The AAD has an established Diversity Mentorship Program (https://www.aad.org/member/career/volunteer/diversity-mentorship) that provides members with direct guidance from dermatologists for 4 weeks. Students use this time to conduct research, learn more about the specialty, and foster a relationship with their mentor. Students can apply any year of medical school; however, the typical awardee usually is a third-year or fourth-year student. The AAD may provide a stipend to help offset expenses.

Prepare for Boards

Second year is a continuation of the agenda set forth in first year, now with the focus shifting toward board preparation and excelling in clinical core didactics and rotations. According to data from the 2018 National Resident Matching Program,⁹ the mean USMLE Step 1 score for US allopathic senior medical students who matched into dermatology was 249 compared to 241 who did not match into dermatology. However, the mean score is just that—a mean—and people have matched with lower scores. Do not be intimidated by this number; instead, be driven to commit the time and resources to master the content and do your personal best on the USMLE Step examinations. Given the shift in some programs for earlier clinical exposure and postponement of boards until the third year, the recommendations in this timeline can be catered to fit a medical student’s specific situation.

Build Your Application

The third year of medical school is a busy year. Prepare for third-year clinical rotations by speaking with upperclassmen and clinical preceptors as you progress through your rotations. Evaluations and recommendations are weighed heavily by residency program directors, as this information is used to ascertain your clinical abilities. Seek feedback from your preceptors early and often with a sincere attempt to integrate suggested improvements. Schedule a dermatology rotation at your home institution after completing the core rotations. Although they are not required, applicants may complete away rotations early in their fourth year; the application period for visiting student learning opportunities typically opens April 1 of the third year, if not earlier. Free resources are available to help prepare for your dermatology rotations. Start by reviewing the Basic Dermatology Curriculum on the AAD website (https://www.aad.org/member/education/residents/bdc). Make contributions to your Electronic Residency Application Service account by thinking about letter writers, your personal statement, scheduling the USMLE Step 2, and completing any pending publications.

Interviewing for Residency

During your fourth year of medical school, you will be completing dermatology rotations, submitting your applications through the Electronic Residency Application Service, and interviewing with residency programs. When deciding which programs to apply to, consider referencing the American Medical Association Residency and Fellowship Database (https://freida.ama-assn.org/Freida/#/). Also keep in mind that, depending on your competitiveness, you should expect to receive 1 interview for every 10 programs you apply to, thus the application process can be quite costly. It is highly encouraged that you ask for letters of recommendation prior to August 15 and that you submit your applications by September 15. Complete mock interviews with a mentor and research commonly asked questions. Prior to your interview day, you want to spend time researching the program, browsing faculty publications, and reviewing your application. Dress in a comfortable suit, shoes, and minimal accessories; arrive early knowing that your interview begins even before you meet your interviewer, so treat everyone you meet with respect. Refrain from speaking to anyone in a casual way and have questions prepared to ask each interviewer. After your interviews, be sure to write thank you notes or emails if a program does not specifically discourage postinterview communication. Continuous efforts will improve your success in obtaining a dermatology residency position.

Final Thoughts

Recent articles have underscored and emphasized the importance of diversity in our field, with a call to action to find meaningful and overdue solutions.^2,6 We acknowledge the important role that mentors play in providing timely, honest, and encouraging guidance to UIM students interested in careers in dermatology. We hope to provide readily available and detailed guidance to these students on how they can present themselves as excellent and qualified applicants through this summary and other platforms.

Acknowledgment
The authors would like to thank the members of the SOCS Diversity Task Force for their assistance in creating the original guide.

There has been increasing attention focused on the lack of diversity within dermatology academic and residency programs.^1-6 Several factors have been identified as contributing to this narrow pipeline of qualified applicants, including lack of mentorship, delayed exposure to the field, implicit bias, and lack of an overall holistic review of applications with overemphasis on board scores.^1,5 In an effort to provide guidance to underrepresented in medicine (UIM) students who are interested in dermatology, the Skin of Color Society (SOCS) has created a detailed, step-by-step guide on how to obtain a position in a dermatology residency program,⁷ which was modeled after a similar resource created by the American Academy of Orthopaedic Surgeons.⁸ Here, we highlight the main SOCS recommendations to help guide medical students through a systematic approach to becoming successful applicants for dermatology residency.

Start Early

Competitive fields such as dermatology require intentional efforts starting at the beginning of medical school. Regardless of what specialty is right for you, begin by constructing a well-rounded application for residency immediately. Start by shadowing dermatologists and attending Grand Rounds held in your institution’s dermatology department to ensure that this field is right for you. Students are encouraged to meet with academic advisors and upperclassmen to seek guidance on gaining early exposure to dermatology at their home institutions (or nearby programs) during their first year. As a platform for learning about community-based dermatology activities, join your school’s Dermatology Interest Group, keeping in mind that an executive position in such a group can help foster relationships with faculty and residents of the dermatology department. A long-term commitment to community service also contributes to your depth as an applicant. Getting involved early helps students uncover health disparities in medicine and allows time to formulate ideas to implement change. Forming a well-rounded application mandates maintaining good academic standing, and students should prioritize mastering the curriculum, excelling in clinical rotations, and studying for the US Medical Licensing Examination (USMLE).

Choose a Mentor

The summer between your first and second years of medical school is an opportune time to explore research opportunities. Students successfully complete research by taking ownership of a project, efficiently meeting deadlines, maintaining contact with research mentors by quickly responding to emails, and producing quality work. Research outside of dermatology also is valued. Research mentors often provide future letters of recommendation, so commit to doing an outstanding job. For those finding it difficult to locate a mentor, consider searching the American Academy of Dermatology (AAD)(https://www.aad.org/mentorship/) or SOCS (https://skinofcolorsociety.org/) websites. The AAD has an established Diversity Mentorship Program (https://www.aad.org/member/career/volunteer/diversity-mentorship) that provides members with direct guidance from dermatologists for 4 weeks. Students use this time to conduct research, learn more about the specialty, and foster a relationship with their mentor. Students can apply any year of medical school; however, the typical awardee usually is a third-year or fourth-year student. The AAD may provide a stipend to help offset expenses.

Prepare for Boards

Second year is a continuation of the agenda set forth in first year, now with the focus shifting toward board preparation and excelling in clinical core didactics and rotations. According to data from the 2018 National Resident Matching Program,⁹ the mean USMLE Step 1 score for US allopathic senior medical students who matched into dermatology was 249 compared to 241 who did not match into dermatology. However, the mean score is just that—a mean—and people have matched with lower scores. Do not be intimidated by this number; instead, be driven to commit the time and resources to master the content and do your personal best on the USMLE Step examinations. Given the shift in some programs for earlier clinical exposure and postponement of boards until the third year, the recommendations in this timeline can be catered to fit a medical student’s specific situation.

Build Your Application

The third year of medical school is a busy year. Prepare for third-year clinical rotations by speaking with upperclassmen and clinical preceptors as you progress through your rotations. Evaluations and recommendations are weighed heavily by residency program directors, as this information is used to ascertain your clinical abilities. Seek feedback from your preceptors early and often with a sincere attempt to integrate suggested improvements. Schedule a dermatology rotation at your home institution after completing the core rotations. Although they are not required, applicants may complete away rotations early in their fourth year; the application period for visiting student learning opportunities typically opens April 1 of the third year, if not earlier. Free resources are available to help prepare for your dermatology rotations. Start by reviewing the Basic Dermatology Curriculum on the AAD website (https://www.aad.org/member/education/residents/bdc). Make contributions to your Electronic Residency Application Service account by thinking about letter writers, your personal statement, scheduling the USMLE Step 2, and completing any pending publications.

Interviewing for Residency

During your fourth year of medical school, you will be completing dermatology rotations, submitting your applications through the Electronic Residency Application Service, and interviewing with residency programs. When deciding which programs to apply to, consider referencing the American Medical Association Residency and Fellowship Database (https://freida.ama-assn.org/Freida/#/). Also keep in mind that, depending on your competitiveness, you should expect to receive 1 interview for every 10 programs you apply to, thus the application process can be quite costly. It is highly encouraged that you ask for letters of recommendation prior to August 15 and that you submit your applications by September 15. Complete mock interviews with a mentor and research commonly asked questions. Prior to your interview day, you want to spend time researching the program, browsing faculty publications, and reviewing your application. Dress in a comfortable suit, shoes, and minimal accessories; arrive early knowing that your interview begins even before you meet your interviewer, so treat everyone you meet with respect. Refrain from speaking to anyone in a casual way and have questions prepared to ask each interviewer. After your interviews, be sure to write thank you notes or emails if a program does not specifically discourage postinterview communication. Continuous efforts will improve your success in obtaining a dermatology residency position.

Final Thoughts

Recent articles have underscored and emphasized the importance of diversity in our field, with a call to action to find meaningful and overdue solutions.^2,6 We acknowledge the important role that mentors play in providing timely, honest, and encouraging guidance to UIM students interested in careers in dermatology. We hope to provide readily available and detailed guidance to these students on how they can present themselves as excellent and qualified applicants through this summary and other platforms.

Acknowledgment
The authors would like to thank the members of the SOCS Diversity Task Force for their assistance in creating the original guide.

There has been increasing attention focused on the lack of diversity within dermatology academic and residency programs.^1-6 Several factors have been identified as contributing to this narrow pipeline of qualified applicants, including lack of mentorship, delayed exposure to the field, implicit bias, and lack of an overall holistic review of applications with overemphasis on board scores.^1,5 In an effort to provide guidance to underrepresented in medicine (UIM) students who are interested in dermatology, the Skin of Color Society (SOCS) has created a detailed, step-by-step guide on how to obtain a position in a dermatology residency program,⁷ which was modeled after a similar resource created by the American Academy of Orthopaedic Surgeons.⁸ Here, we highlight the main SOCS recommendations to help guide medical students through a systematic approach to becoming successful applicants for dermatology residency.

Start Early

Competitive fields such as dermatology require intentional efforts starting at the beginning of medical school. Regardless of what specialty is right for you, begin by constructing a well-rounded application for residency immediately. Start by shadowing dermatologists and attending Grand Rounds held in your institution’s dermatology department to ensure that this field is right for you. Students are encouraged to meet with academic advisors and upperclassmen to seek guidance on gaining early exposure to dermatology at their home institutions (or nearby programs) during their first year. As a platform for learning about community-based dermatology activities, join your school’s Dermatology Interest Group, keeping in mind that an executive position in such a group can help foster relationships with faculty and residents of the dermatology department. A long-term commitment to community service also contributes to your depth as an applicant. Getting involved early helps students uncover health disparities in medicine and allows time to formulate ideas to implement change. Forming a well-rounded application mandates maintaining good academic standing, and students should prioritize mastering the curriculum, excelling in clinical rotations, and studying for the US Medical Licensing Examination (USMLE).

Choose a Mentor

The summer between your first and second years of medical school is an opportune time to explore research opportunities. Students successfully complete research by taking ownership of a project, efficiently meeting deadlines, maintaining contact with research mentors by quickly responding to emails, and producing quality work. Research outside of dermatology also is valued. Research mentors often provide future letters of recommendation, so commit to doing an outstanding job. For those finding it difficult to locate a mentor, consider searching the American Academy of Dermatology (AAD)(https://www.aad.org/mentorship/) or SOCS (https://skinofcolorsociety.org/) websites. The AAD has an established Diversity Mentorship Program (https://www.aad.org/member/career/volunteer/diversity-mentorship) that provides members with direct guidance from dermatologists for 4 weeks. Students use this time to conduct research, learn more about the specialty, and foster a relationship with their mentor. Students can apply any year of medical school; however, the typical awardee usually is a third-year or fourth-year student. The AAD may provide a stipend to help offset expenses.

Prepare for Boards

Second year is a continuation of the agenda set forth in first year, now with the focus shifting toward board preparation and excelling in clinical core didactics and rotations. According to data from the 2018 National Resident Matching Program,⁹ the mean USMLE Step 1 score for US allopathic senior medical students who matched into dermatology was 249 compared to 241 who did not match into dermatology. However, the mean score is just that—a mean—and people have matched with lower scores. Do not be intimidated by this number; instead, be driven to commit the time and resources to master the content and do your personal best on the USMLE Step examinations. Given the shift in some programs for earlier clinical exposure and postponement of boards until the third year, the recommendations in this timeline can be catered to fit a medical student’s specific situation.

Build Your Application

The third year of medical school is a busy year. Prepare for third-year clinical rotations by speaking with upperclassmen and clinical preceptors as you progress through your rotations. Evaluations and recommendations are weighed heavily by residency program directors, as this information is used to ascertain your clinical abilities. Seek feedback from your preceptors early and often with a sincere attempt to integrate suggested improvements. Schedule a dermatology rotation at your home institution after completing the core rotations. Although they are not required, applicants may complete away rotations early in their fourth year; the application period for visiting student learning opportunities typically opens April 1 of the third year, if not earlier. Free resources are available to help prepare for your dermatology rotations. Start by reviewing the Basic Dermatology Curriculum on the AAD website (https://www.aad.org/member/education/residents/bdc). Make contributions to your Electronic Residency Application Service account by thinking about letter writers, your personal statement, scheduling the USMLE Step 2, and completing any pending publications.

Interviewing for Residency

During your fourth year of medical school, you will be completing dermatology rotations, submitting your applications through the Electronic Residency Application Service, and interviewing with residency programs. When deciding which programs to apply to, consider referencing the American Medical Association Residency and Fellowship Database (https://freida.ama-assn.org/Freida/#/). Also keep in mind that, depending on your competitiveness, you should expect to receive 1 interview for every 10 programs you apply to, thus the application process can be quite costly. It is highly encouraged that you ask for letters of recommendation prior to August 15 and that you submit your applications by September 15. Complete mock interviews with a mentor and research commonly asked questions. Prior to your interview day, you want to spend time researching the program, browsing faculty publications, and reviewing your application. Dress in a comfortable suit, shoes, and minimal accessories; arrive early knowing that your interview begins even before you meet your interviewer, so treat everyone you meet with respect. Refrain from speaking to anyone in a casual way and have questions prepared to ask each interviewer. After your interviews, be sure to write thank you notes or emails if a program does not specifically discourage postinterview communication. Continuous efforts will improve your success in obtaining a dermatology residency position.

Final Thoughts

Recent articles have underscored and emphasized the importance of diversity in our field, with a call to action to find meaningful and overdue solutions.^2,6 We acknowledge the important role that mentors play in providing timely, honest, and encouraging guidance to UIM students interested in careers in dermatology. We hope to provide readily available and detailed guidance to these students on how they can present themselves as excellent and qualified applicants through this summary and other platforms.

Acknowledgment
The authors would like to thank the members of the SOCS Diversity Task Force for their assistance in creating the original guide.

The destructive toll COVID-19 has caused worldwide is devastating. In the United States, the disproportionate deaths of Black, Indigenous, and Latinx people due to structural racism, amplified by economic adversity, is unacceptable. Meanwhile, the continued murder of Black people by those sworn to protect the public is abhorrent and can no longer be ignored. Black lives matter. These crises have rightly gripped our attention, and should galvanize physicians individually and collectively to use our privileged voices and relative power for justice. We must strive for engaged, passionate, and innovative leadership deliberately aimed toward antiracism and equity.

The COVID-19 pandemic has illuminated the vast inequities in our country. It has highlighted the continued poor outcomes our health and health care systems create for Black, Indigenous, and Latinx communities. It also has demonstrated clearly that we are all connected—one large community, interdependent yet rife with differential power, privilege, and oppression. We must address these racial disparities—not only in the name of justice and good health for all but also because it is a moral and ethical imperative for us as physicians—and SARS-CoV-2 clearly shows us that it is in the best interest of everyone to do so.

First step: A deep dive look at systemic racism

What is first needed is an examination and acknowledgement by medicine and health care at large of the deeply entrenched roots of systemic and institutional racism in our profession and care systems, and their disproportionate and unjust impact on the health and livelihood of communities of color. The COVID-19 pandemic is only a recent example that highlights the perpetuation of a system that harms people of color. Racism, sexism, gender discrimination, economic and social injustice, religious persecution, and violence against women and children are age-old. We have yet to see health care institutions implement system-wide intersectional and antiracist practices to address them. Mandatory implicit bias training, policies for inclusion and diversity, and position statements are necessary first steps; however, they are not a panacea. They are insufficient to create the bold changes we need. The time for words has long passed. It is time to listen, to hear the cries of anguish and outrage, to examine our privileged position, to embrace change and discomfort, and most importantly to act, and to lead in dismantling the structures around us that perpetuate racial inequity.

How can we, as physicians and leaders, join in action and make an impact?

Dr. Camara Jones, past president of the American Public Health Association, describes 3 levels of racism:

• structural or systemic
• individual or personally mediated
• internalized.

Interventions at each level are important if we are to promote equity in health and health care. This framework can help us think about the following strategic initiatives.

Continue to: 1. Commit to becoming an antiracist and engage in independent study...

1. Commit to becoming antiracist and engage in independent study. This is an important first step as it will form the foundations for interventions—one cannot facilitate change without understanding the matter at hand. This step also may be the most personally challenging step forcing all of us to wrestle with discomfort, sadness, fear, guilt, and a host of other emotional responses. Remember that great change has never been born out of comfort, and the discomfort physicians may experience while unlearning racism and learning antiracism pales in comparison to what communities of color experience daily. We must actively work to unlearn the racist and anti-Black culture that is so deeply woven into every aspect of our existence.

Learn the history that was not given to us as kids in school. Read the brilliant literary works of Black, Indigenous, and Latinx artists and scholars on dismantling racism. Expand our vocabulary and knowledge of core concepts in racism, racial justice, and equity. Examine and reflect on our day-to-day practices. Be vocal in our commitment to antiracism—the time has passed for staying silent. If you are white, facilitate conversations about race with your white colleagues; the inherent power of racism relegates it to an issue that can never be on the table, but it is time to dismantle that power. Learn what acts of meaningful and intentional alliances are and when we need to give up power or privilege to a person of color. We also need to recognize that we as physicians, while leaders in many spaces, are not leaders in the powerful racial justice grassroots movements. We should learn from these movements, follow their lead, and use our privilege to uplift racial justice in our settings.

2. Embrace the current complexities with empathy and humility, finding ways to exercise our civic responsibility to the public with compassion. During the COVID-19 pandemic we have seen the devastation that social isolation, job loss, and illness can create. Suddenly those who could never have imagined themselves without food are waiting hours in their cars for food bank donations or are finding empty shelves in stores. Those who were not safe at home were suddenly imprisoned indefinitely in unsafe situations. Those who were comfortable, well-insured, and healthy are facing an invisible health threat, insecurity, fear, anxiety, and loss. Additionally, our civic institutions are failing. Those of us who always took our right to vote for granted are being forced to stand in hours’-long lines to exercise that right; while those who have been systematically disenfranchised are enduring even greater threats to their constitutional right to exercise their political power, disallowing them to speak for their families and communities and to vote for the justice they deserve. This may be an opportunity to stop blaming victims and recognize the toll that structural and systemic contributions to inequity have created over generations.

3. Meaningfully engage with and advocate for patients. In health and health care, we must begin to engage with the communities we serve and truly listen to their needs, desires, and barriers to care, and respond accordingly. Policies that try to address the social determinants of health without that engagement, and without the acknowledgement of the structural issues that cause them, however well-intentioned, are unlikely to accomplish their goals. We need to advocate as physicians and leaders in our settings for every policy, practice, and procedure to be scrutinized using an antiracist lens. To execute this, we need to:

• ask why clinic and hospital practices are built the way they are and how to make them more reflexive and responsive to individual patient’s needs
• examine what the disproportionate impacts might be on different groups of patients from a systems-level
• be ready to dismantle and/or rebuild something that is exacerbating disparate outcomes and experiences
• advocate for change that is built upon the narratives of patients and their communities.

We should include patients in the creation of hospital policies and guidelines in order to shift power toward them and to be transparent about how the system operates in order to facilitate trust and collaboration that centers patients and communities in the systems created to serve them.

Continue to: 4. Intentionally repair and build trust...

4. Intentionally repair and build trust. To create a safe environment, we must repair what we have broken and earn the trust of communities by uplifting their voices and redistributing our power to them in changing the systems and structures that have, for generations, kept Black, Indigenous, and Latinx people oppressed. Building trust requires first owning our histories of colonization, genocide, and slavery—now turned mass incarceration, debasement, and exploitation—that has existed for centuries. We as physicians need to do an honest examination of how we have eroded the trust of the very communities we care for since our profession’s creation. We need to acknowledge, as a white-dominant profession, the medical experimentation on and exploitation of Black and Brown bodies, and how this formed the foundation for a very valid deep distrust and fear of the medical establishment. We need to recognize how our inherent racial biases continue to feed this distrust, like when we don’t treat patients’ pain adequately or make them feel like we believe and listen to their needs and concerns. We must acknowledge our complicity in perpetuating the racial inequities in health, again highlighted by the COVID-19 pandemic.

5. Increase Black, Indigenous, and Latinx representation in physician and other health care professions’ workforce. Racism impacts not only patients but also our colleagues of color. The lack of racial diversity is a symptom of racism and a representation of the continued exclusion and devaluing of physicians of color. We must recognize this legacy of exclusion and facilitate intentional recruitment, retention, inclusion, and belonging of people of color into our workforce. Tokenism, the act of symbolically including one or few people from underrepresented groups, has been a weapon used by our workforce against physicians of color, resulting in isolation, “othering,” demoralization, and other deleterious impacts. We need to reverse this history and diversify our training programs and workforce to ensure justice in our own community.

6. Design multifaceted interventions. Multilevel problems require multilevel solutions. Interventions targeted solely at one level, while helpful, are unlikely to result in the larger scale changes our society needs to implement if we are to eradicate the impact of racism on health. We have long known that it is not just “preexisting conditions” or “poor” individual behaviors that lead to negative and disparate health outcomes—these are impacted by social and structural determinants much larger and more deleterious than that. It is critically important that we allocate and redistribute resources to create safe and affordable housing; childcare and preschool facilities; healthy, available, and affordable food; equitable and affordable educational opportunities; and a clean environment to support the health of all communities—not only those with the highest tax base. It is imperative that we strive to understand the lives of our fellow human beings who have been subjected to intergenerational social injustices and oppressions that have continued to place them at the margins of society. We need to center the lived experiences of communities of color in the design of multilevel interventions, especially Black and Indigenous communities. While we as physicians cannot individually impact education, economic, or food/environment systems, we can use our power to advocate for providing resources for the patients we care for and can create strategies within the health care system to address these needs in order to achieve optimal health. Robust and equitable social structures are the foundations for health, and ensuring equitable access to them is critical to reducing disparities.

Commit to lead

We must commit to unlearning our internalized racism, rebuilding relationships with communities of color, and engaging in antiracist practices. As a profession dedicated to healing, we have an obligation to be leaders in advocating for these changes, and dismantling the inequitable structure of our health care system.

Our challenge now is to articulate solutions. While antiracism should be informed by the lived experiences of communities of color, the work of antiracism is not their responsibility. In fact, it is the responsibility of our white-dominated systems and institutions to change.

There are some solutions that are easier to enumerate because they have easily measurable outcomes or activities, such as:

• collecting data transparently
• identifying inequities in access, treatment, and care
• conducting rigorous root cause analysis of those barriers to care
• increasing diverse racial and gender representation on decision-making bodies, from board rooms to committees, from leadership teams to research participants
• redistribute power by paving the way for underrepresented colleagues to participate in clinical, administrative, educational, executive, and health policy spaces
• mentoring new leaders who come from marginalized communities.

Every patient deserves our expertise and access to high-quality care. We should review our patient panels to ensure we are taking steps personally to be just and eliminate disparities, and we should monitor the results of those efforts.

Continue to: Be open to solutions that may make us “uncomfortable”...

Be open to solutions that may make us “uncomfortable”

There are other solutions, perhaps those that would be more effective on a larger scale, which may be harder to measure using our traditional ways of inquiry or measurement. Solutions that may create discomfort, anger, or fear for those who have held their power or positions for a long time. We need to begin to engage in developing, cultivating, and valuing innovative strategies that produce equally valid knowledge, evidence, and solutions without engaging in a randomized controlled trial. We need to reinvent the way inquiry, investigation, and implementation are done, and utilize novel, justice-informed strategies that include real-world evidence to produce results that are applicable to all (not just those willing to participate in sponsored trials). Only then will we be able to provide equitable health outcomes for all.

We also must accept responsibility for the past and humbly ask communities to work with us as we struggle to eliminate racism and dehumanization of Black lives by calling out our actions or inaction, recognizing the impact of our privileged status, and stepping down or stepping aside to allow others to lead. Sometimes it is as simple as turning off the Zoom camera so others can talk. By redistributing power and focusing this work upon the narratives of marginalized communities, we can improve our system for everyone. We must lead with action within our practices and systems; become advocates within our communities, institutions, and profession; strategize and organize interventions at both structural and individual levels to first recognize and name—then change—the systems; and unlearn behaviors that perpetuate racism.

Inaction is shirking our responsibility among the medical community

Benign inaction and unintentional acquiescence with “the way things are and have always been” abdicates our responsibility as physicians to improve the health of our patients and our communities. The modern Hippocratic Oath reminds us: “I will remember that I remain a member of society, with special obligations to all my fellow human beings, those sound of mind and body as well as the infirm.” We have a professional and ethical responsibility to ensure health equity, and thus racial equity. As physicians, as healers, as leaders we must address racial inequities at all levels as we commit to improving the health of our nation. We can no longer stand silent in the face of the violence, brutality, and injustices our patients, friends, family, neighbors, communities, and society as a whole live through daily. It is unjust and inhumane to do so.

To be silent is to be complicit. As Gandhi said so long ago, we must “be the change we wish to see in the world.” And as Ijeoma Olua teaches us, “Anti-racism is the commitment to fight racism wherever you find it, including in yourself. And it’s the only way forward.”
 

The destructive toll COVID-19 has caused worldwide is devastating. In the United States, the disproportionate deaths of Black, Indigenous, and Latinx people due to structural racism, amplified by economic adversity, is unacceptable. Meanwhile, the continued murder of Black people by those sworn to protect the public is abhorrent and can no longer be ignored. Black lives matter. These crises have rightly gripped our attention, and should galvanize physicians individually and collectively to use our privileged voices and relative power for justice. We must strive for engaged, passionate, and innovative leadership deliberately aimed toward antiracism and equity.

The COVID-19 pandemic has illuminated the vast inequities in our country. It has highlighted the continued poor outcomes our health and health care systems create for Black, Indigenous, and Latinx communities. It also has demonstrated clearly that we are all connected—one large community, interdependent yet rife with differential power, privilege, and oppression. We must address these racial disparities—not only in the name of justice and good health for all but also because it is a moral and ethical imperative for us as physicians—and SARS-CoV-2 clearly shows us that it is in the best interest of everyone to do so.

First step: A deep dive look at systemic racism

What is first needed is an examination and acknowledgement by medicine and health care at large of the deeply entrenched roots of systemic and institutional racism in our profession and care systems, and their disproportionate and unjust impact on the health and livelihood of communities of color. The COVID-19 pandemic is only a recent example that highlights the perpetuation of a system that harms people of color. Racism, sexism, gender discrimination, economic and social injustice, religious persecution, and violence against women and children are age-old. We have yet to see health care institutions implement system-wide intersectional and antiracist practices to address them. Mandatory implicit bias training, policies for inclusion and diversity, and position statements are necessary first steps; however, they are not a panacea. They are insufficient to create the bold changes we need. The time for words has long passed. It is time to listen, to hear the cries of anguish and outrage, to examine our privileged position, to embrace change and discomfort, and most importantly to act, and to lead in dismantling the structures around us that perpetuate racial inequity.

How can we, as physicians and leaders, join in action and make an impact?

Dr. Camara Jones, past president of the American Public Health Association, describes 3 levels of racism:

• structural or systemic
• individual or personally mediated
• internalized.

Interventions at each level are important if we are to promote equity in health and health care. This framework can help us think about the following strategic initiatives.

Continue to: 1. Commit to becoming an antiracist and engage in independent study...

1. Commit to becoming antiracist and engage in independent study. This is an important first step as it will form the foundations for interventions—one cannot facilitate change without understanding the matter at hand. This step also may be the most personally challenging step forcing all of us to wrestle with discomfort, sadness, fear, guilt, and a host of other emotional responses. Remember that great change has never been born out of comfort, and the discomfort physicians may experience while unlearning racism and learning antiracism pales in comparison to what communities of color experience daily. We must actively work to unlearn the racist and anti-Black culture that is so deeply woven into every aspect of our existence.

Learn the history that was not given to us as kids in school. Read the brilliant literary works of Black, Indigenous, and Latinx artists and scholars on dismantling racism. Expand our vocabulary and knowledge of core concepts in racism, racial justice, and equity. Examine and reflect on our day-to-day practices. Be vocal in our commitment to antiracism—the time has passed for staying silent. If you are white, facilitate conversations about race with your white colleagues; the inherent power of racism relegates it to an issue that can never be on the table, but it is time to dismantle that power. Learn what acts of meaningful and intentional alliances are and when we need to give up power or privilege to a person of color. We also need to recognize that we as physicians, while leaders in many spaces, are not leaders in the powerful racial justice grassroots movements. We should learn from these movements, follow their lead, and use our privilege to uplift racial justice in our settings.

2. Embrace the current complexities with empathy and humility, finding ways to exercise our civic responsibility to the public with compassion. During the COVID-19 pandemic we have seen the devastation that social isolation, job loss, and illness can create. Suddenly those who could never have imagined themselves without food are waiting hours in their cars for food bank donations or are finding empty shelves in stores. Those who were not safe at home were suddenly imprisoned indefinitely in unsafe situations. Those who were comfortable, well-insured, and healthy are facing an invisible health threat, insecurity, fear, anxiety, and loss. Additionally, our civic institutions are failing. Those of us who always took our right to vote for granted are being forced to stand in hours’-long lines to exercise that right; while those who have been systematically disenfranchised are enduring even greater threats to their constitutional right to exercise their political power, disallowing them to speak for their families and communities and to vote for the justice they deserve. This may be an opportunity to stop blaming victims and recognize the toll that structural and systemic contributions to inequity have created over generations.

3. Meaningfully engage with and advocate for patients. In health and health care, we must begin to engage with the communities we serve and truly listen to their needs, desires, and barriers to care, and respond accordingly. Policies that try to address the social determinants of health without that engagement, and without the acknowledgement of the structural issues that cause them, however well-intentioned, are unlikely to accomplish their goals. We need to advocate as physicians and leaders in our settings for every policy, practice, and procedure to be scrutinized using an antiracist lens. To execute this, we need to:

• ask why clinic and hospital practices are built the way they are and how to make them more reflexive and responsive to individual patient’s needs
• examine what the disproportionate impacts might be on different groups of patients from a systems-level
• be ready to dismantle and/or rebuild something that is exacerbating disparate outcomes and experiences
• advocate for change that is built upon the narratives of patients and their communities.

We should include patients in the creation of hospital policies and guidelines in order to shift power toward them and to be transparent about how the system operates in order to facilitate trust and collaboration that centers patients and communities in the systems created to serve them.

Continue to: 4. Intentionally repair and build trust...

4. Intentionally repair and build trust. To create a safe environment, we must repair what we have broken and earn the trust of communities by uplifting their voices and redistributing our power to them in changing the systems and structures that have, for generations, kept Black, Indigenous, and Latinx people oppressed. Building trust requires first owning our histories of colonization, genocide, and slavery—now turned mass incarceration, debasement, and exploitation—that has existed for centuries. We as physicians need to do an honest examination of how we have eroded the trust of the very communities we care for since our profession’s creation. We need to acknowledge, as a white-dominant profession, the medical experimentation on and exploitation of Black and Brown bodies, and how this formed the foundation for a very valid deep distrust and fear of the medical establishment. We need to recognize how our inherent racial biases continue to feed this distrust, like when we don’t treat patients’ pain adequately or make them feel like we believe and listen to their needs and concerns. We must acknowledge our complicity in perpetuating the racial inequities in health, again highlighted by the COVID-19 pandemic.

5. Increase Black, Indigenous, and Latinx representation in physician and other health care professions’ workforce. Racism impacts not only patients but also our colleagues of color. The lack of racial diversity is a symptom of racism and a representation of the continued exclusion and devaluing of physicians of color. We must recognize this legacy of exclusion and facilitate intentional recruitment, retention, inclusion, and belonging of people of color into our workforce. Tokenism, the act of symbolically including one or few people from underrepresented groups, has been a weapon used by our workforce against physicians of color, resulting in isolation, “othering,” demoralization, and other deleterious impacts. We need to reverse this history and diversify our training programs and workforce to ensure justice in our own community.

6. Design multifaceted interventions. Multilevel problems require multilevel solutions. Interventions targeted solely at one level, while helpful, are unlikely to result in the larger scale changes our society needs to implement if we are to eradicate the impact of racism on health. We have long known that it is not just “preexisting conditions” or “poor” individual behaviors that lead to negative and disparate health outcomes—these are impacted by social and structural determinants much larger and more deleterious than that. It is critically important that we allocate and redistribute resources to create safe and affordable housing; childcare and preschool facilities; healthy, available, and affordable food; equitable and affordable educational opportunities; and a clean environment to support the health of all communities—not only those with the highest tax base. It is imperative that we strive to understand the lives of our fellow human beings who have been subjected to intergenerational social injustices and oppressions that have continued to place them at the margins of society. We need to center the lived experiences of communities of color in the design of multilevel interventions, especially Black and Indigenous communities. While we as physicians cannot individually impact education, economic, or food/environment systems, we can use our power to advocate for providing resources for the patients we care for and can create strategies within the health care system to address these needs in order to achieve optimal health. Robust and equitable social structures are the foundations for health, and ensuring equitable access to them is critical to reducing disparities.

Commit to lead

We must commit to unlearning our internalized racism, rebuilding relationships with communities of color, and engaging in antiracist practices. As a profession dedicated to healing, we have an obligation to be leaders in advocating for these changes, and dismantling the inequitable structure of our health care system.

Our challenge now is to articulate solutions. While antiracism should be informed by the lived experiences of communities of color, the work of antiracism is not their responsibility. In fact, it is the responsibility of our white-dominated systems and institutions to change.

There are some solutions that are easier to enumerate because they have easily measurable outcomes or activities, such as:

• collecting data transparently
• identifying inequities in access, treatment, and care
• conducting rigorous root cause analysis of those barriers to care
• increasing diverse racial and gender representation on decision-making bodies, from board rooms to committees, from leadership teams to research participants
• redistribute power by paving the way for underrepresented colleagues to participate in clinical, administrative, educational, executive, and health policy spaces
• mentoring new leaders who come from marginalized communities.

Every patient deserves our expertise and access to high-quality care. We should review our patient panels to ensure we are taking steps personally to be just and eliminate disparities, and we should monitor the results of those efforts.

Continue to: Be open to solutions that may make us “uncomfortable”...

Be open to solutions that may make us “uncomfortable”

There are other solutions, perhaps those that would be more effective on a larger scale, which may be harder to measure using our traditional ways of inquiry or measurement. Solutions that may create discomfort, anger, or fear for those who have held their power or positions for a long time. We need to begin to engage in developing, cultivating, and valuing innovative strategies that produce equally valid knowledge, evidence, and solutions without engaging in a randomized controlled trial. We need to reinvent the way inquiry, investigation, and implementation are done, and utilize novel, justice-informed strategies that include real-world evidence to produce results that are applicable to all (not just those willing to participate in sponsored trials). Only then will we be able to provide equitable health outcomes for all.

We also must accept responsibility for the past and humbly ask communities to work with us as we struggle to eliminate racism and dehumanization of Black lives by calling out our actions or inaction, recognizing the impact of our privileged status, and stepping down or stepping aside to allow others to lead. Sometimes it is as simple as turning off the Zoom camera so others can talk. By redistributing power and focusing this work upon the narratives of marginalized communities, we can improve our system for everyone. We must lead with action within our practices and systems; become advocates within our communities, institutions, and profession; strategize and organize interventions at both structural and individual levels to first recognize and name—then change—the systems; and unlearn behaviors that perpetuate racism.

Inaction is shirking our responsibility among the medical community

Benign inaction and unintentional acquiescence with “the way things are and have always been” abdicates our responsibility as physicians to improve the health of our patients and our communities. The modern Hippocratic Oath reminds us: “I will remember that I remain a member of society, with special obligations to all my fellow human beings, those sound of mind and body as well as the infirm.” We have a professional and ethical responsibility to ensure health equity, and thus racial equity. As physicians, as healers, as leaders we must address racial inequities at all levels as we commit to improving the health of our nation. We can no longer stand silent in the face of the violence, brutality, and injustices our patients, friends, family, neighbors, communities, and society as a whole live through daily. It is unjust and inhumane to do so.

To be silent is to be complicit. As Gandhi said so long ago, we must “be the change we wish to see in the world.” And as Ijeoma Olua teaches us, “Anti-racism is the commitment to fight racism wherever you find it, including in yourself. And it’s the only way forward.”
 

The destructive toll COVID-19 has caused worldwide is devastating. In the United States, the disproportionate deaths of Black, Indigenous, and Latinx people due to structural racism, amplified by economic adversity, is unacceptable. Meanwhile, the continued murder of Black people by those sworn to protect the public is abhorrent and can no longer be ignored. Black lives matter. These crises have rightly gripped our attention, and should galvanize physicians individually and collectively to use our privileged voices and relative power for justice. We must strive for engaged, passionate, and innovative leadership deliberately aimed toward antiracism and equity.

The COVID-19 pandemic has illuminated the vast inequities in our country. It has highlighted the continued poor outcomes our health and health care systems create for Black, Indigenous, and Latinx communities. It also has demonstrated clearly that we are all connected—one large community, interdependent yet rife with differential power, privilege, and oppression. We must address these racial disparities—not only in the name of justice and good health for all but also because it is a moral and ethical imperative for us as physicians—and SARS-CoV-2 clearly shows us that it is in the best interest of everyone to do so.

First step: A deep dive look at systemic racism

What is first needed is an examination and acknowledgement by medicine and health care at large of the deeply entrenched roots of systemic and institutional racism in our profession and care systems, and their disproportionate and unjust impact on the health and livelihood of communities of color. The COVID-19 pandemic is only a recent example that highlights the perpetuation of a system that harms people of color. Racism, sexism, gender discrimination, economic and social injustice, religious persecution, and violence against women and children are age-old. We have yet to see health care institutions implement system-wide intersectional and antiracist practices to address them. Mandatory implicit bias training, policies for inclusion and diversity, and position statements are necessary first steps; however, they are not a panacea. They are insufficient to create the bold changes we need. The time for words has long passed. It is time to listen, to hear the cries of anguish and outrage, to examine our privileged position, to embrace change and discomfort, and most importantly to act, and to lead in dismantling the structures around us that perpetuate racial inequity.

How can we, as physicians and leaders, join in action and make an impact?

Dr. Camara Jones, past president of the American Public Health Association, describes 3 levels of racism:

• structural or systemic
• individual or personally mediated
• internalized.

Interventions at each level are important if we are to promote equity in health and health care. This framework can help us think about the following strategic initiatives.

Continue to: 1. Commit to becoming an antiracist and engage in independent study...

1. Commit to becoming antiracist and engage in independent study. This is an important first step as it will form the foundations for interventions—one cannot facilitate change without understanding the matter at hand. This step also may be the most personally challenging step forcing all of us to wrestle with discomfort, sadness, fear, guilt, and a host of other emotional responses. Remember that great change has never been born out of comfort, and the discomfort physicians may experience while unlearning racism and learning antiracism pales in comparison to what communities of color experience daily. We must actively work to unlearn the racist and anti-Black culture that is so deeply woven into every aspect of our existence.

Learn the history that was not given to us as kids in school. Read the brilliant literary works of Black, Indigenous, and Latinx artists and scholars on dismantling racism. Expand our vocabulary and knowledge of core concepts in racism, racial justice, and equity. Examine and reflect on our day-to-day practices. Be vocal in our commitment to antiracism—the time has passed for staying silent. If you are white, facilitate conversations about race with your white colleagues; the inherent power of racism relegates it to an issue that can never be on the table, but it is time to dismantle that power. Learn what acts of meaningful and intentional alliances are and when we need to give up power or privilege to a person of color. We also need to recognize that we as physicians, while leaders in many spaces, are not leaders in the powerful racial justice grassroots movements. We should learn from these movements, follow their lead, and use our privilege to uplift racial justice in our settings.

2. Embrace the current complexities with empathy and humility, finding ways to exercise our civic responsibility to the public with compassion. During the COVID-19 pandemic we have seen the devastation that social isolation, job loss, and illness can create. Suddenly those who could never have imagined themselves without food are waiting hours in their cars for food bank donations or are finding empty shelves in stores. Those who were not safe at home were suddenly imprisoned indefinitely in unsafe situations. Those who were comfortable, well-insured, and healthy are facing an invisible health threat, insecurity, fear, anxiety, and loss. Additionally, our civic institutions are failing. Those of us who always took our right to vote for granted are being forced to stand in hours’-long lines to exercise that right; while those who have been systematically disenfranchised are enduring even greater threats to their constitutional right to exercise their political power, disallowing them to speak for their families and communities and to vote for the justice they deserve. This may be an opportunity to stop blaming victims and recognize the toll that structural and systemic contributions to inequity have created over generations.

3. Meaningfully engage with and advocate for patients. In health and health care, we must begin to engage with the communities we serve and truly listen to their needs, desires, and barriers to care, and respond accordingly. Policies that try to address the social determinants of health without that engagement, and without the acknowledgement of the structural issues that cause them, however well-intentioned, are unlikely to accomplish their goals. We need to advocate as physicians and leaders in our settings for every policy, practice, and procedure to be scrutinized using an antiracist lens. To execute this, we need to:

• ask why clinic and hospital practices are built the way they are and how to make them more reflexive and responsive to individual patient’s needs
• examine what the disproportionate impacts might be on different groups of patients from a systems-level
• be ready to dismantle and/or rebuild something that is exacerbating disparate outcomes and experiences
• advocate for change that is built upon the narratives of patients and their communities.

We should include patients in the creation of hospital policies and guidelines in order to shift power toward them and to be transparent about how the system operates in order to facilitate trust and collaboration that centers patients and communities in the systems created to serve them.

Continue to: 4. Intentionally repair and build trust...

4. Intentionally repair and build trust. To create a safe environment, we must repair what we have broken and earn the trust of communities by uplifting their voices and redistributing our power to them in changing the systems and structures that have, for generations, kept Black, Indigenous, and Latinx people oppressed. Building trust requires first owning our histories of colonization, genocide, and slavery—now turned mass incarceration, debasement, and exploitation—that has existed for centuries. We as physicians need to do an honest examination of how we have eroded the trust of the very communities we care for since our profession’s creation. We need to acknowledge, as a white-dominant profession, the medical experimentation on and exploitation of Black and Brown bodies, and how this formed the foundation for a very valid deep distrust and fear of the medical establishment. We need to recognize how our inherent racial biases continue to feed this distrust, like when we don’t treat patients’ pain adequately or make them feel like we believe and listen to their needs and concerns. We must acknowledge our complicity in perpetuating the racial inequities in health, again highlighted by the COVID-19 pandemic.

5. Increase Black, Indigenous, and Latinx representation in physician and other health care professions’ workforce. Racism impacts not only patients but also our colleagues of color. The lack of racial diversity is a symptom of racism and a representation of the continued exclusion and devaluing of physicians of color. We must recognize this legacy of exclusion and facilitate intentional recruitment, retention, inclusion, and belonging of people of color into our workforce. Tokenism, the act of symbolically including one or few people from underrepresented groups, has been a weapon used by our workforce against physicians of color, resulting in isolation, “othering,” demoralization, and other deleterious impacts. We need to reverse this history and diversify our training programs and workforce to ensure justice in our own community.

6. Design multifaceted interventions. Multilevel problems require multilevel solutions. Interventions targeted solely at one level, while helpful, are unlikely to result in the larger scale changes our society needs to implement if we are to eradicate the impact of racism on health. We have long known that it is not just “preexisting conditions” or “poor” individual behaviors that lead to negative and disparate health outcomes—these are impacted by social and structural determinants much larger and more deleterious than that. It is critically important that we allocate and redistribute resources to create safe and affordable housing; childcare and preschool facilities; healthy, available, and affordable food; equitable and affordable educational opportunities; and a clean environment to support the health of all communities—not only those with the highest tax base. It is imperative that we strive to understand the lives of our fellow human beings who have been subjected to intergenerational social injustices and oppressions that have continued to place them at the margins of society. We need to center the lived experiences of communities of color in the design of multilevel interventions, especially Black and Indigenous communities. While we as physicians cannot individually impact education, economic, or food/environment systems, we can use our power to advocate for providing resources for the patients we care for and can create strategies within the health care system to address these needs in order to achieve optimal health. Robust and equitable social structures are the foundations for health, and ensuring equitable access to them is critical to reducing disparities.

Commit to lead

We must commit to unlearning our internalized racism, rebuilding relationships with communities of color, and engaging in antiracist practices. As a profession dedicated to healing, we have an obligation to be leaders in advocating for these changes, and dismantling the inequitable structure of our health care system.

Our challenge now is to articulate solutions. While antiracism should be informed by the lived experiences of communities of color, the work of antiracism is not their responsibility. In fact, it is the responsibility of our white-dominated systems and institutions to change.

There are some solutions that are easier to enumerate because they have easily measurable outcomes or activities, such as:

• collecting data transparently
• identifying inequities in access, treatment, and care
• conducting rigorous root cause analysis of those barriers to care
• increasing diverse racial and gender representation on decision-making bodies, from board rooms to committees, from leadership teams to research participants
• redistribute power by paving the way for underrepresented colleagues to participate in clinical, administrative, educational, executive, and health policy spaces
• mentoring new leaders who come from marginalized communities.

Every patient deserves our expertise and access to high-quality care. We should review our patient panels to ensure we are taking steps personally to be just and eliminate disparities, and we should monitor the results of those efforts.

Continue to: Be open to solutions that may make us “uncomfortable”...

Be open to solutions that may make us “uncomfortable”

There are other solutions, perhaps those that would be more effective on a larger scale, which may be harder to measure using our traditional ways of inquiry or measurement. Solutions that may create discomfort, anger, or fear for those who have held their power or positions for a long time. We need to begin to engage in developing, cultivating, and valuing innovative strategies that produce equally valid knowledge, evidence, and solutions without engaging in a randomized controlled trial. We need to reinvent the way inquiry, investigation, and implementation are done, and utilize novel, justice-informed strategies that include real-world evidence to produce results that are applicable to all (not just those willing to participate in sponsored trials). Only then will we be able to provide equitable health outcomes for all.

We also must accept responsibility for the past and humbly ask communities to work with us as we struggle to eliminate racism and dehumanization of Black lives by calling out our actions or inaction, recognizing the impact of our privileged status, and stepping down or stepping aside to allow others to lead. Sometimes it is as simple as turning off the Zoom camera so others can talk. By redistributing power and focusing this work upon the narratives of marginalized communities, we can improve our system for everyone. We must lead with action within our practices and systems; become advocates within our communities, institutions, and profession; strategize and organize interventions at both structural and individual levels to first recognize and name—then change—the systems; and unlearn behaviors that perpetuate racism.

Inaction is shirking our responsibility among the medical community

Benign inaction and unintentional acquiescence with “the way things are and have always been” abdicates our responsibility as physicians to improve the health of our patients and our communities. The modern Hippocratic Oath reminds us: “I will remember that I remain a member of society, with special obligations to all my fellow human beings, those sound of mind and body as well as the infirm.” We have a professional and ethical responsibility to ensure health equity, and thus racial equity. As physicians, as healers, as leaders we must address racial inequities at all levels as we commit to improving the health of our nation. We can no longer stand silent in the face of the violence, brutality, and injustices our patients, friends, family, neighbors, communities, and society as a whole live through daily. It is unjust and inhumane to do so.

To be silent is to be complicit. As Gandhi said so long ago, we must “be the change we wish to see in the world.” And as Ijeoma Olua teaches us, “Anti-racism is the commitment to fight racism wherever you find it, including in yourself. And it’s the only way forward.”
 

Sarah Jones, PA-C, is a physician assistant on the overnight hospitalist team at Indiana University Health Methodist Hospital in Indianapolis, where she has worked for about 8 years. She studied chemistry and biology as an undergraduate at the University of Indianapolis, and then attended PA school at Butler University in Indianapolis. She came out as lesbian/queer just before PA school. She joined the Society of Hospital Medicine in 2020 and serves on SHM’s Diversity and Inclusion Special Interest Group.

How important is it to you to openly identify as a physician assistant who is a member of the LGBTQ community?

I think it’s important to show other people that I am part of the LGBTQ community and that I’ve been able to overcome obstacles and pursue this career and be successful. I can help other people and be in that role [of mentor], and show people that they can do it, too.

What challenges have you faced because of your sexual orientation in the different stages of your career, from training to practicing as a physician assistant?

When my training started, I was much closer to the time when I came out, so my confidence level was a little bit low. I was much more fearful at that point about how people would view me – if I would be thought of as inferior, or not taken as seriously, or that I wasn’t intelligent. I think over the years I’ve grown into this role and it’s helped me become more confident, because I know who I am now. And it’s not something that definitely defines me but I’m confident that I know medicine, and I know how to treat patients and that confidence has gotten much better.

So far at work, everyone’s been great, all my coworkers have been great. I’ve never once felt that my sexuality was holding anyone back from getting to know me better.
 

Have you heard about the experiences of other LGBTQ clinicians who may not have been as fortunate as you, especially transgender people?

There is just a lot of ignorance around LGBTQ persons and especially transgender persons, because people don’t understand it, they don’t get it. So their first inclination is to not approve of it, or be scared of it, or just automatically think that it’s wrong.

If someone’s sexuality comes across much more “obviously” than that of other people, for example, if there’s a gay man who’s a little more flamboyant, [it could be an issue for some patients]. I know there are some gay male nurses who have had patients who don’t want them serving as their nurse, because they’re “obviously” gay. Or a queer woman clinician who has more of an edgier haircut or looks a little bit more masculine; I know that there have been some patients who have said certain things to them that have been discriminating.
 

Have you been especially conscious of how you ‘wear’ your sexual orientation? Have you ever had to change how you’ve presented yourself, lest you have some unpleasant reaction?

I think initially, yes. I would say I’m a little more on the androgynous side with my style. When I was coming out I was trying to figure out where I was and who I was and how I wanted to be, and for the longest time I was dressing more femininely and I wasn’t as comfortable. Since then, I’ve had times where I’ve had short hair or a little bit more of a masculine haircut and wear more masculine clothes and things like that, and I feel much more comfortable doing that.

It’s kind of hard to play the part of a more masculine LGBTQ person at work when you just wear scrubs. I probably don’t portray it as much – I don’t make it as obvious as some other people, but I’ve definitely never shied away from having a conversation with anyone about it.
 

Health care is an intimate profession because of your close interaction with patients and others. Did being a member of the LGBTQ community factor into your decision to enter the health care field, either for or against?

There were times when I didn’t feel well or my mental health was not great because I didn’t know where I was, or hadn’t accepted myself, and I really needed someone who could help me talk through things and try to figure out what my life path was going to be. When I figured those things out with the help of other people, it was life-changing. I respected those people, and that’s what I wanted to do and how I wanted to help. I think that was part of why I got into medicine.

What progress have you seen with regard to LGBTQ health care professionals and patients over the past 5 to 10 years, including subtle changes in culture, attitude, or workplace policies?

Just being interviewed for a profile like this is a step in the right direction. Never once did I think that I would be highlighted for being an LGBTQ person, especially in the workplace.

I think that there are more companies, particularly in health care, and more hospitals that are coming out in support of their LGBTQ employees, especially during Pride month. IU Health walks every year in the Pride parade, which last year was about 3 hours long. Five years previously it was only 30 minutes long. So there are more employers getting involved and recognizing their employees as well. Companies and health care facilities are trying to be more cognizant of their LGBTQ employees and patients and trying to make them more comfortable.
 

What main steps toward more progress would you like to see?

There needs to be greater understanding that people who undergo discrimination actually have more negative health outcomes like heart disease, high blood pressure, and stroke. There needs to be better medical coverage in the LGBTQ community, especially for transgender persons and LGBTQ people who are trying to start families. We need better mental health access, more affordable mental health access, particularly for LGBTQ youth, and we definitely need to continue to raise awareness with hopes that we can eradicate the violence against, and killing of, black transgender persons.

How do you see the Society of Hospital Medicine’s role in this regard?

SHM has a big platform and can certainly reach a lot of people, especially hospitalists who see LGBTQ patients every day. With SHM’s help and the continued training of hospitalists who are members of the society, we can reach out to other clinicians, and to their organizations, and help teach them. SHM really has a good platform to be able to do that, and do it well.

Can you recall a specific interaction with an LGBTQ patient that left you with a potent feeling that “this is what it’s all about”?

I do remember a transgender patient who was homeless. They didn’t have insurance, they couldn’t afford their hormone treatment, and I remember they were struggling with some mental health issues and were “acting out” overnight. Some of the nurses were not using the correct pronouns. I’m more cognizant of their struggles because I’m a member of the LGBTQ community and I was able to recognize this.

I sat down and I talked with the patient for quite a while, we were able to form a bond, and I was able to get a little bit more information from them, and by the end of the night, they felt much better. And just being able to be their voice, when they weren’t able to express exactly how they were feeling, was something that made me thankful that I went into medicine, to help other LGBTQ patients.

I’ve had many LGBTQ patients in the hospital whom I’ve been able to form a bit of a bond with, just knowing that the patient could be me.

Sarah Jones, PA-C, is a physician assistant on the overnight hospitalist team at Indiana University Health Methodist Hospital in Indianapolis, where she has worked for about 8 years. She studied chemistry and biology as an undergraduate at the University of Indianapolis, and then attended PA school at Butler University in Indianapolis. She came out as lesbian/queer just before PA school. She joined the Society of Hospital Medicine in 2020 and serves on SHM’s Diversity and Inclusion Special Interest Group.

How important is it to you to openly identify as a physician assistant who is a member of the LGBTQ community?

I think it’s important to show other people that I am part of the LGBTQ community and that I’ve been able to overcome obstacles and pursue this career and be successful. I can help other people and be in that role [of mentor], and show people that they can do it, too.

What challenges have you faced because of your sexual orientation in the different stages of your career, from training to practicing as a physician assistant?

When my training started, I was much closer to the time when I came out, so my confidence level was a little bit low. I was much more fearful at that point about how people would view me – if I would be thought of as inferior, or not taken as seriously, or that I wasn’t intelligent. I think over the years I’ve grown into this role and it’s helped me become more confident, because I know who I am now. And it’s not something that definitely defines me but I’m confident that I know medicine, and I know how to treat patients and that confidence has gotten much better.

So far at work, everyone’s been great, all my coworkers have been great. I’ve never once felt that my sexuality was holding anyone back from getting to know me better.
 

Have you heard about the experiences of other LGBTQ clinicians who may not have been as fortunate as you, especially transgender people?

There is just a lot of ignorance around LGBTQ persons and especially transgender persons, because people don’t understand it, they don’t get it. So their first inclination is to not approve of it, or be scared of it, or just automatically think that it’s wrong.

If someone’s sexuality comes across much more “obviously” than that of other people, for example, if there’s a gay man who’s a little more flamboyant, [it could be an issue for some patients]. I know there are some gay male nurses who have had patients who don’t want them serving as their nurse, because they’re “obviously” gay. Or a queer woman clinician who has more of an edgier haircut or looks a little bit more masculine; I know that there have been some patients who have said certain things to them that have been discriminating.
 

Have you been especially conscious of how you ‘wear’ your sexual orientation? Have you ever had to change how you’ve presented yourself, lest you have some unpleasant reaction?

I think initially, yes. I would say I’m a little more on the androgynous side with my style. When I was coming out I was trying to figure out where I was and who I was and how I wanted to be, and for the longest time I was dressing more femininely and I wasn’t as comfortable. Since then, I’ve had times where I’ve had short hair or a little bit more of a masculine haircut and wear more masculine clothes and things like that, and I feel much more comfortable doing that.

It’s kind of hard to play the part of a more masculine LGBTQ person at work when you just wear scrubs. I probably don’t portray it as much – I don’t make it as obvious as some other people, but I’ve definitely never shied away from having a conversation with anyone about it.
 

Health care is an intimate profession because of your close interaction with patients and others. Did being a member of the LGBTQ community factor into your decision to enter the health care field, either for or against?

There were times when I didn’t feel well or my mental health was not great because I didn’t know where I was, or hadn’t accepted myself, and I really needed someone who could help me talk through things and try to figure out what my life path was going to be. When I figured those things out with the help of other people, it was life-changing. I respected those people, and that’s what I wanted to do and how I wanted to help. I think that was part of why I got into medicine.

What progress have you seen with regard to LGBTQ health care professionals and patients over the past 5 to 10 years, including subtle changes in culture, attitude, or workplace policies?

Just being interviewed for a profile like this is a step in the right direction. Never once did I think that I would be highlighted for being an LGBTQ person, especially in the workplace.

I think that there are more companies, particularly in health care, and more hospitals that are coming out in support of their LGBTQ employees, especially during Pride month. IU Health walks every year in the Pride parade, which last year was about 3 hours long. Five years previously it was only 30 minutes long. So there are more employers getting involved and recognizing their employees as well. Companies and health care facilities are trying to be more cognizant of their LGBTQ employees and patients and trying to make them more comfortable.
 

What main steps toward more progress would you like to see?

There needs to be greater understanding that people who undergo discrimination actually have more negative health outcomes like heart disease, high blood pressure, and stroke. There needs to be better medical coverage in the LGBTQ community, especially for transgender persons and LGBTQ people who are trying to start families. We need better mental health access, more affordable mental health access, particularly for LGBTQ youth, and we definitely need to continue to raise awareness with hopes that we can eradicate the violence against, and killing of, black transgender persons.

How do you see the Society of Hospital Medicine’s role in this regard?

SHM has a big platform and can certainly reach a lot of people, especially hospitalists who see LGBTQ patients every day. With SHM’s help and the continued training of hospitalists who are members of the society, we can reach out to other clinicians, and to their organizations, and help teach them. SHM really has a good platform to be able to do that, and do it well.

Can you recall a specific interaction with an LGBTQ patient that left you with a potent feeling that “this is what it’s all about”?

I do remember a transgender patient who was homeless. They didn’t have insurance, they couldn’t afford their hormone treatment, and I remember they were struggling with some mental health issues and were “acting out” overnight. Some of the nurses were not using the correct pronouns. I’m more cognizant of their struggles because I’m a member of the LGBTQ community and I was able to recognize this.

I sat down and I talked with the patient for quite a while, we were able to form a bond, and I was able to get a little bit more information from them, and by the end of the night, they felt much better. And just being able to be their voice, when they weren’t able to express exactly how they were feeling, was something that made me thankful that I went into medicine, to help other LGBTQ patients.

I’ve had many LGBTQ patients in the hospital whom I’ve been able to form a bit of a bond with, just knowing that the patient could be me.

Sarah Jones, PA-C, is a physician assistant on the overnight hospitalist team at Indiana University Health Methodist Hospital in Indianapolis, where she has worked for about 8 years. She studied chemistry and biology as an undergraduate at the University of Indianapolis, and then attended PA school at Butler University in Indianapolis. She came out as lesbian/queer just before PA school. She joined the Society of Hospital Medicine in 2020 and serves on SHM’s Diversity and Inclusion Special Interest Group.

How important is it to you to openly identify as a physician assistant who is a member of the LGBTQ community?

I think it’s important to show other people that I am part of the LGBTQ community and that I’ve been able to overcome obstacles and pursue this career and be successful. I can help other people and be in that role [of mentor], and show people that they can do it, too.

What challenges have you faced because of your sexual orientation in the different stages of your career, from training to practicing as a physician assistant?

When my training started, I was much closer to the time when I came out, so my confidence level was a little bit low. I was much more fearful at that point about how people would view me – if I would be thought of as inferior, or not taken as seriously, or that I wasn’t intelligent. I think over the years I’ve grown into this role and it’s helped me become more confident, because I know who I am now. And it’s not something that definitely defines me but I’m confident that I know medicine, and I know how to treat patients and that confidence has gotten much better.

So far at work, everyone’s been great, all my coworkers have been great. I’ve never once felt that my sexuality was holding anyone back from getting to know me better.
 

Have you heard about the experiences of other LGBTQ clinicians who may not have been as fortunate as you, especially transgender people?

There is just a lot of ignorance around LGBTQ persons and especially transgender persons, because people don’t understand it, they don’t get it. So their first inclination is to not approve of it, or be scared of it, or just automatically think that it’s wrong.

If someone’s sexuality comes across much more “obviously” than that of other people, for example, if there’s a gay man who’s a little more flamboyant, [it could be an issue for some patients]. I know there are some gay male nurses who have had patients who don’t want them serving as their nurse, because they’re “obviously” gay. Or a queer woman clinician who has more of an edgier haircut or looks a little bit more masculine; I know that there have been some patients who have said certain things to them that have been discriminating.
 

Have you been especially conscious of how you ‘wear’ your sexual orientation? Have you ever had to change how you’ve presented yourself, lest you have some unpleasant reaction?

I think initially, yes. I would say I’m a little more on the androgynous side with my style. When I was coming out I was trying to figure out where I was and who I was and how I wanted to be, and for the longest time I was dressing more femininely and I wasn’t as comfortable. Since then, I’ve had times where I’ve had short hair or a little bit more of a masculine haircut and wear more masculine clothes and things like that, and I feel much more comfortable doing that.

It’s kind of hard to play the part of a more masculine LGBTQ person at work when you just wear scrubs. I probably don’t portray it as much – I don’t make it as obvious as some other people, but I’ve definitely never shied away from having a conversation with anyone about it.
 

Health care is an intimate profession because of your close interaction with patients and others. Did being a member of the LGBTQ community factor into your decision to enter the health care field, either for or against?

There were times when I didn’t feel well or my mental health was not great because I didn’t know where I was, or hadn’t accepted myself, and I really needed someone who could help me talk through things and try to figure out what my life path was going to be. When I figured those things out with the help of other people, it was life-changing. I respected those people, and that’s what I wanted to do and how I wanted to help. I think that was part of why I got into medicine.

What progress have you seen with regard to LGBTQ health care professionals and patients over the past 5 to 10 years, including subtle changes in culture, attitude, or workplace policies?

Just being interviewed for a profile like this is a step in the right direction. Never once did I think that I would be highlighted for being an LGBTQ person, especially in the workplace.

I think that there are more companies, particularly in health care, and more hospitals that are coming out in support of their LGBTQ employees, especially during Pride month. IU Health walks every year in the Pride parade, which last year was about 3 hours long. Five years previously it was only 30 minutes long. So there are more employers getting involved and recognizing their employees as well. Companies and health care facilities are trying to be more cognizant of their LGBTQ employees and patients and trying to make them more comfortable.
 

What main steps toward more progress would you like to see?

There needs to be greater understanding that people who undergo discrimination actually have more negative health outcomes like heart disease, high blood pressure, and stroke. There needs to be better medical coverage in the LGBTQ community, especially for transgender persons and LGBTQ people who are trying to start families. We need better mental health access, more affordable mental health access, particularly for LGBTQ youth, and we definitely need to continue to raise awareness with hopes that we can eradicate the violence against, and killing of, black transgender persons.

How do you see the Society of Hospital Medicine’s role in this regard?

SHM has a big platform and can certainly reach a lot of people, especially hospitalists who see LGBTQ patients every day. With SHM’s help and the continued training of hospitalists who are members of the society, we can reach out to other clinicians, and to their organizations, and help teach them. SHM really has a good platform to be able to do that, and do it well.

Can you recall a specific interaction with an LGBTQ patient that left you with a potent feeling that “this is what it’s all about”?

I do remember a transgender patient who was homeless. They didn’t have insurance, they couldn’t afford their hormone treatment, and I remember they were struggling with some mental health issues and were “acting out” overnight. Some of the nurses were not using the correct pronouns. I’m more cognizant of their struggles because I’m a member of the LGBTQ community and I was able to recognize this.

I sat down and I talked with the patient for quite a while, we were able to form a bond, and I was able to get a little bit more information from them, and by the end of the night, they felt much better. And just being able to be their voice, when they weren’t able to express exactly how they were feeling, was something that made me thankful that I went into medicine, to help other LGBTQ patients.

I’ve had many LGBTQ patients in the hospital whom I’ve been able to form a bit of a bond with, just knowing that the patient could be me.

Keshav Khanijow, MD, is a hospitalist at Northwestern Memorial Hospital and assistant professor at Northwestern University, Chicago. Originally from the San Francisco Bay area, he studied anthropology as an undergrad at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, then went to medical school at the University of California, San Francisco, followed by internal medicine residency and a hospital medicine fellowship at Johns Hopkins Bayview Medical Center. He came out as gay in 2006 as an undergrad. He is a founding member of the Society of Hospital Medicine’s LGBTQ+ Task Force and is involved with SHM’s Diversity and Inclusion Special Interest Group.

What challenges have you faced because of your sexual orientation in the different stages of your career, from training to now as a practicing physician?

In my early training, there weren’t a lot of accessible LGBTQ role models to talk about balancing my personal identities with my professional aspirations. Being a double minority as both South Asian and a gay male, made it that much more difficult. “What is it like to work in health care as a gay cismale? Will being out on my personal statement affect my entry into medical school? Should I list my LGBTQ activism activities or not?” Those were important to me.

And did you make your activism known?

Thankfully, I did. I joke that my application might as well have been printed on rainbow paper, if you will. I decided to be out because I wanted to be part of an environment that would accept me for who I was. But it was a difficult decision.

In medical school at UCSF, it’s San Francisco, so they were a little ahead of the game. They had a lot of social networking opportunities with LGBTQ and ally faculty. Those connections were important in helping me explore different fields, and I even got to write my first publication. That said, networking could sometimes be challenging, especially when it came to residency interviews. While many people would talk about family activities and engagements, I’d only been out to my family for a few years. As such, there would be somewhat of a disconnect. On the flip side, there were LGBTQ celebrations and cultural concepts important to me, but I couldn’t always connect on those fronts either.

When it comes to patients, I do have a bit of a higher-pitched voice, and my mannerisms can be gender nonconforming. While it did make me the target of some cruel middle school humor, I’ve come to be proud of myself, mannerisms and all. That said, I have had patients make remarks to me about being gay, whether it be positive or negative. For LGBTQ patients, they’re like, “this is great, I have a gay doctor. They’ll know a bit more about what I’m talking about or be able to relate to the community pressures I face.”

But sometimes homophobic patients can be a bit more cold. I’ve never had anyone say that they don’t want to have me as their physician, but I definitely have patients who disagree with me and say, essentially, “oh well, you don’t know what you’re talking about because you’re gay.” Of course, there have also been comments based on my ethnicity as well.
 

What specific progress could you point to that you’ve seen over the course of your training and your career so far with regard to LGBTQ health care workers’ experience and LGBTQ patients?

When I was in college, there was a case in 2007 where a woman wasn’t able to see her partner or children before dying in a Florida hospital. Since then, there’s been great strides with a 2011 executive order extending hospital visitation rights to LGBTQ families. In 2013, there was the legalization of same-sex marriage. More recently, in June 2020, the Supreme Court extended protections against workplace discrimination to LGBTQ employees.

But there are certain things that continue to be problems, such as the recent Final Rule from the Department of Health & Human Services that fails to protect our LGBTQ patients and friends against discrimination in health care.
 

Can you remember a specific episode with a patient who was in the LGBTQ community that was particularly satisfying or moving?

There are two that I think about. In medical school, I was working in a more conservative area of California, and there was a patient who identified as lesbian. She felt more able to talk about her fears of raising a family in a conservative area. She even said, “I feel you can understand the stuff, I can talk to you a bit more about it freely, which is really nice.” Later on, I was able to see them on another rotation I was on, after she’d had a baby with her partner. I was honored that they considered me a part of their family’s journey.

A couple years ago as an attending hospitalist, I had a gay male patient that came in for hepatitis A treatment. Although we typically think of hepatitis A as a foodborne illness, oral-anal sex (rimming) is also a risk factor. After having an open discussion with him about his sexual practices, I said, “it was probably an STI in your case,” and was able to give him guidelines on how to prevent giving it to anyone else during the recovery period. He was very appreciative, and I was glad to have been there for that patient.
 

What is SHM’s role in regard to improving the care of LGBTQ patients, improving inclusiveness for LGBTQ health professionals?

Continuing to have educational activities, whether it be lectures at the annual conference or online learning modules, will be critical to care for our LGBTQ patients. With regard to membership, we need to make sure that hospitalists feel included and protected. To this end, our Diversity and Inclusion Special Interest Group was working toward having gender-neutral bathrooms and personal pronoun tags for the in-person 2020 annual conference before it was converted to an online format.

Does it ever get tiring for you to work on “social issues” in addition to strictly medical issues?

I will say I definitely experienced a moment in time during residency where I had to take a step back and recenter myself. Sometimes, realizing how much work needs to get done, coupled with the challenges of one’s personal life, can be daunting. That said, I can only stare at a problem so long before needing to work on creating a solution. At the end of the day I didn’t want to run away from these newfound problems of exclusion – I wanted to be a part of the solution.

In my hospital medicine fellowship, I was lucky to have Flora Kisuule, MD, as a mentor who encouraged me to take my prior work with LGBTQ health and leverage it into hospital medicine projects. As such, I was able to combine a topic I was passionate about with my interests in research and teaching so that they work synergistically. After all, the social issues affect our medical histories, just as our medical issues affect our social being. They go hand in hand.

Keshav Khanijow, MD, is a hospitalist at Northwestern Memorial Hospital and assistant professor at Northwestern University, Chicago. Originally from the San Francisco Bay area, he studied anthropology as an undergrad at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, then went to medical school at the University of California, San Francisco, followed by internal medicine residency and a hospital medicine fellowship at Johns Hopkins Bayview Medical Center. He came out as gay in 2006 as an undergrad. He is a founding member of the Society of Hospital Medicine’s LGBTQ+ Task Force and is involved with SHM’s Diversity and Inclusion Special Interest Group.

What challenges have you faced because of your sexual orientation in the different stages of your career, from training to now as a practicing physician?

In my early training, there weren’t a lot of accessible LGBTQ role models to talk about balancing my personal identities with my professional aspirations. Being a double minority as both South Asian and a gay male, made it that much more difficult. “What is it like to work in health care as a gay cismale? Will being out on my personal statement affect my entry into medical school? Should I list my LGBTQ activism activities or not?” Those were important to me.

And did you make your activism known?

Thankfully, I did. I joke that my application might as well have been printed on rainbow paper, if you will. I decided to be out because I wanted to be part of an environment that would accept me for who I was. But it was a difficult decision.

In medical school at UCSF, it’s San Francisco, so they were a little ahead of the game. They had a lot of social networking opportunities with LGBTQ and ally faculty. Those connections were important in helping me explore different fields, and I even got to write my first publication. That said, networking could sometimes be challenging, especially when it came to residency interviews. While many people would talk about family activities and engagements, I’d only been out to my family for a few years. As such, there would be somewhat of a disconnect. On the flip side, there were LGBTQ celebrations and cultural concepts important to me, but I couldn’t always connect on those fronts either.

When it comes to patients, I do have a bit of a higher-pitched voice, and my mannerisms can be gender nonconforming. While it did make me the target of some cruel middle school humor, I’ve come to be proud of myself, mannerisms and all. That said, I have had patients make remarks to me about being gay, whether it be positive or negative. For LGBTQ patients, they’re like, “this is great, I have a gay doctor. They’ll know a bit more about what I’m talking about or be able to relate to the community pressures I face.”

But sometimes homophobic patients can be a bit more cold. I’ve never had anyone say that they don’t want to have me as their physician, but I definitely have patients who disagree with me and say, essentially, “oh well, you don’t know what you’re talking about because you’re gay.” Of course, there have also been comments based on my ethnicity as well.
 

What specific progress could you point to that you’ve seen over the course of your training and your career so far with regard to LGBTQ health care workers’ experience and LGBTQ patients?

When I was in college, there was a case in 2007 where a woman wasn’t able to see her partner or children before dying in a Florida hospital. Since then, there’s been great strides with a 2011 executive order extending hospital visitation rights to LGBTQ families. In 2013, there was the legalization of same-sex marriage. More recently, in June 2020, the Supreme Court extended protections against workplace discrimination to LGBTQ employees.

But there are certain things that continue to be problems, such as the recent Final Rule from the Department of Health & Human Services that fails to protect our LGBTQ patients and friends against discrimination in health care.
 

Can you remember a specific episode with a patient who was in the LGBTQ community that was particularly satisfying or moving?

There are two that I think about. In medical school, I was working in a more conservative area of California, and there was a patient who identified as lesbian. She felt more able to talk about her fears of raising a family in a conservative area. She even said, “I feel you can understand the stuff, I can talk to you a bit more about it freely, which is really nice.” Later on, I was able to see them on another rotation I was on, after she’d had a baby with her partner. I was honored that they considered me a part of their family’s journey.

A couple years ago as an attending hospitalist, I had a gay male patient that came in for hepatitis A treatment. Although we typically think of hepatitis A as a foodborne illness, oral-anal sex (rimming) is also a risk factor. After having an open discussion with him about his sexual practices, I said, “it was probably an STI in your case,” and was able to give him guidelines on how to prevent giving it to anyone else during the recovery period. He was very appreciative, and I was glad to have been there for that patient.
 

What is SHM’s role in regard to improving the care of LGBTQ patients, improving inclusiveness for LGBTQ health professionals?

Continuing to have educational activities, whether it be lectures at the annual conference or online learning modules, will be critical to care for our LGBTQ patients. With regard to membership, we need to make sure that hospitalists feel included and protected. To this end, our Diversity and Inclusion Special Interest Group was working toward having gender-neutral bathrooms and personal pronoun tags for the in-person 2020 annual conference before it was converted to an online format.

Does it ever get tiring for you to work on “social issues” in addition to strictly medical issues?

I will say I definitely experienced a moment in time during residency where I had to take a step back and recenter myself. Sometimes, realizing how much work needs to get done, coupled with the challenges of one’s personal life, can be daunting. That said, I can only stare at a problem so long before needing to work on creating a solution. At the end of the day I didn’t want to run away from these newfound problems of exclusion – I wanted to be a part of the solution.

In my hospital medicine fellowship, I was lucky to have Flora Kisuule, MD, as a mentor who encouraged me to take my prior work with LGBTQ health and leverage it into hospital medicine projects. As such, I was able to combine a topic I was passionate about with my interests in research and teaching so that they work synergistically. After all, the social issues affect our medical histories, just as our medical issues affect our social being. They go hand in hand.

Keshav Khanijow, MD, is a hospitalist at Northwestern Memorial Hospital and assistant professor at Northwestern University, Chicago. Originally from the San Francisco Bay area, he studied anthropology as an undergrad at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, then went to medical school at the University of California, San Francisco, followed by internal medicine residency and a hospital medicine fellowship at Johns Hopkins Bayview Medical Center. He came out as gay in 2006 as an undergrad. He is a founding member of the Society of Hospital Medicine’s LGBTQ+ Task Force and is involved with SHM’s Diversity and Inclusion Special Interest Group.

What challenges have you faced because of your sexual orientation in the different stages of your career, from training to now as a practicing physician?

In my early training, there weren’t a lot of accessible LGBTQ role models to talk about balancing my personal identities with my professional aspirations. Being a double minority as both South Asian and a gay male, made it that much more difficult. “What is it like to work in health care as a gay cismale? Will being out on my personal statement affect my entry into medical school? Should I list my LGBTQ activism activities or not?” Those were important to me.

And did you make your activism known?

Thankfully, I did. I joke that my application might as well have been printed on rainbow paper, if you will. I decided to be out because I wanted to be part of an environment that would accept me for who I was. But it was a difficult decision.

In medical school at UCSF, it’s San Francisco, so they were a little ahead of the game. They had a lot of social networking opportunities with LGBTQ and ally faculty. Those connections were important in helping me explore different fields, and I even got to write my first publication. That said, networking could sometimes be challenging, especially when it came to residency interviews. While many people would talk about family activities and engagements, I’d only been out to my family for a few years. As such, there would be somewhat of a disconnect. On the flip side, there were LGBTQ celebrations and cultural concepts important to me, but I couldn’t always connect on those fronts either.

When it comes to patients, I do have a bit of a higher-pitched voice, and my mannerisms can be gender nonconforming. While it did make me the target of some cruel middle school humor, I’ve come to be proud of myself, mannerisms and all. That said, I have had patients make remarks to me about being gay, whether it be positive or negative. For LGBTQ patients, they’re like, “this is great, I have a gay doctor. They’ll know a bit more about what I’m talking about or be able to relate to the community pressures I face.”

But sometimes homophobic patients can be a bit more cold. I’ve never had anyone say that they don’t want to have me as their physician, but I definitely have patients who disagree with me and say, essentially, “oh well, you don’t know what you’re talking about because you’re gay.” Of course, there have also been comments based on my ethnicity as well.
 

What specific progress could you point to that you’ve seen over the course of your training and your career so far with regard to LGBTQ health care workers’ experience and LGBTQ patients?

When I was in college, there was a case in 2007 where a woman wasn’t able to see her partner or children before dying in a Florida hospital. Since then, there’s been great strides with a 2011 executive order extending hospital visitation rights to LGBTQ families. In 2013, there was the legalization of same-sex marriage. More recently, in June 2020, the Supreme Court extended protections against workplace discrimination to LGBTQ employees.

But there are certain things that continue to be problems, such as the recent Final Rule from the Department of Health & Human Services that fails to protect our LGBTQ patients and friends against discrimination in health care.
 

Can you remember a specific episode with a patient who was in the LGBTQ community that was particularly satisfying or moving?

There are two that I think about. In medical school, I was working in a more conservative area of California, and there was a patient who identified as lesbian. She felt more able to talk about her fears of raising a family in a conservative area. She even said, “I feel you can understand the stuff, I can talk to you a bit more about it freely, which is really nice.” Later on, I was able to see them on another rotation I was on, after she’d had a baby with her partner. I was honored that they considered me a part of their family’s journey.

A couple years ago as an attending hospitalist, I had a gay male patient that came in for hepatitis A treatment. Although we typically think of hepatitis A as a foodborne illness, oral-anal sex (rimming) is also a risk factor. After having an open discussion with him about his sexual practices, I said, “it was probably an STI in your case,” and was able to give him guidelines on how to prevent giving it to anyone else during the recovery period. He was very appreciative, and I was glad to have been there for that patient.
 

What is SHM’s role in regard to improving the care of LGBTQ patients, improving inclusiveness for LGBTQ health professionals?

Continuing to have educational activities, whether it be lectures at the annual conference or online learning modules, will be critical to care for our LGBTQ patients. With regard to membership, we need to make sure that hospitalists feel included and protected. To this end, our Diversity and Inclusion Special Interest Group was working toward having gender-neutral bathrooms and personal pronoun tags for the in-person 2020 annual conference before it was converted to an online format.

Does it ever get tiring for you to work on “social issues” in addition to strictly medical issues?

I will say I definitely experienced a moment in time during residency where I had to take a step back and recenter myself. Sometimes, realizing how much work needs to get done, coupled with the challenges of one’s personal life, can be daunting. That said, I can only stare at a problem so long before needing to work on creating a solution. At the end of the day I didn’t want to run away from these newfound problems of exclusion – I wanted to be a part of the solution.

In my hospital medicine fellowship, I was lucky to have Flora Kisuule, MD, as a mentor who encouraged me to take my prior work with LGBTQ health and leverage it into hospital medicine projects. As such, I was able to combine a topic I was passionate about with my interests in research and teaching so that they work synergistically. After all, the social issues affect our medical histories, just as our medical issues affect our social being. They go hand in hand.

This column is adapted from Dr. Eleryan’s speech at the George Washington University dermatology residency program’s virtual graduation ceremony on June 12.
 

I’ve been reflecting on my entire residency and the last 2 weeks have stood out the most. I have to admit that I’ve been angry, and so are numerous others who look like me. However, after conversations with a few important people in my life, I’ve realized that people care and are open to listening and changing if I give them the opportunity to see through my lens. I don’t want my legacy to be one of anger, but to be one of change, one of activism, one of heroism, and one of taking a stand in the midst of adversity.

So thank you to everyone who has played a part in my residency and is here to celebrate as I transition to the next step in my career.

But I must pause for a moment to say “I can’t breathe.” I can’t breathe because while I sit here in a place of honor for my accomplishments, I can’t forget that I’m standing in the gap for all of the black men and women who will never have the opportunity to experience a moment like this.

I can’t breathe because George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, Tony McDade, Trayvon Martin, Philando Castile, Sandra Bland, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, Mike Brown, Emmett Till, and so many others will never get to experience a celebratory occasion such as this because of their senseless executions as a likely result of racial bias.

As a black person in “the land of the free,” I have to live with the fact that my life may be taken for simply taking a stroll through a park, jogging through a neighborhood, driving down the street, walking back home from the store, or even sitting in my own home!

As a black physician, I must contend with the very notion that my privilege as a physician does not shield me from discrimination and bias. I recognize that my race walks into the room before I ever do. I know that many of my patients will question my abilities or my title – thinking I am the receptionist, food services worker, or even part of the janitorial staff – simply because of the color of my skin. And what’s even more disturbing is that some of my colleagues will confuse me with another black woman whom I look nothing like or challenge my intelligence and abilities and how I got my position.

All of this boils down to racism – pure and simple. Black people in this country don’t have the privilege of ignoring this truth. We know that this world is not colorblind; neither is anyone in it. We know that this is entrenched racism that for generations has created racial disparities in health care, education, housing, employment, and law enforcement. We weren’t born into a fragile or vulnerable state, yet we were born into a system of dis-enfranchisement, dis-investment, dis-crimination, dis-advantage, and dis-respect.

As physicians, we must recognize and acknowledge the lived experiences that walk through the door with our black patients. And we must understand that black patients walk around with the effects of trauma and toxic stress from just being black in America. That trauma and stress show up in very real ways that contribute to black people experiencing the brunt of chronic diseases and poorer health outcomes. There is no better example than the current COVID-19 pandemic. We are in the midst of a global pandemic from a virus that does not discriminate based on race, but black people are almost three times as likely to be hospitalized as are white people with COVID-19 . And why is that? Because of the “comorbidity” of racism that black people in this country live with. It is not a mere coincidence that the black population is overrepresented in essential jobs and black people are more likely to work in health care than are white people – all positions that increase the risk of infection and death from the virus. So, if we call COVID-19 a pandemic, racism most certainly has been a pandemic that this country has refused to acknowledge, treat, and vaccinate for centuries. We cannot ignore that both have tragically affected black people.

So as Pastor Reginald Sharpe Jr. in Chicago recently said, we’re dealing with two pandemics: One has no vaccination and one has no explanation; one can physiologically take your breath away because it affects the respiratory system, while the second can also take your breath away. Just ask Eric Garner and George Floyd.

As physicians, we must recognize that the mechanisms that tragically resulted in the deaths of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, and so many other black men and women are the same mechanisms that are harming and killing black people in our health care system. It’s not acceptable for institutions that built themselves on black and brown bodies to offer condolences, but to continue to do nothing about the racism that still runs rampant within. It’s not acceptable to do nothing. It’s important to note: Racist systems do not perpetuate themselves – the individuals operating within them do.

Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “He who passively accepts evil is as much involved in it as he who helps to perpetuate it. He who accepts evil without protesting against it is really cooperating with it.” Being well-intentioned, good-hearted, sad, or disheartened is not enough. We won’t be able to tear down the systems and institutions that have been a breeding ground for racism until outrage is met by action, not just from black people and people of color, but also by the white majority.

As physicians it’s time for us to look at how our health care institution – an institution instrumental in the victimization of black people – is affecting the health and well-being of our black patients. (For example, increased maternal mortality among black women.)

Are they being seen and heard? Are they receiving culturally relevant and sensitive care? Are their needs and concerns receiving the same amount of time and attention as other patients? It’s time to understand that, for many black patients, the health care system is another place of injustice that has not proved itself to be trustworthy or inclusive of black culture.

As physicians, we must affirm that the lives and health of black and brown people matter to us, that we see the racism they experience, and that we will use our platform as physicians to eliminate racism not just in the hospitals but in the world our patients live in.

So while I didn’t choose the body that I was born into, I fully embrace it and the challenges that come with it. I’m not here to make people feel comfortable, I’m here to continue the work of my ancestors, accomplish the dreams that they fought and lost their lives for, and most importantly, I’m here to continue the fight against the systems that work to prevent other marginalized persons from getting to where I am and even further.

The author James Baldwin once wrote, “Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.” So, I urge you to be loudly antiracist in every space that you hold. I urge you to educate yourselves about racism and white supremacy and privilege and how it permeates our health care system. I urge you to stand beside black people rather than in front of them. Use your privilege to amplify underheard voices and to challenge the biases of your peers, friends, and family members. Use your platform as physicians to advocate for a more just and equitable health care system.

So let me repeat ... we as physicians have the responsibility to eliminate racial bias in the practice of medicine and recognize racism as a threat to the health and well-being of black people and other people of color.

How do we do this? We are beyond lengthy dialogue and “Black History Month” talks. Now is the time for action. Taking action includes the following:
 

1. Medical academic institutions committing to having a diverse and inclusive faculty. We know it is critical and vital to the recruitment, success, and matriculation of medical students and residents of color to see faculty, particularly senior level faculty in their specialty, who look like them and can serve as mentors. Every year, these institutions need to set a goal that they will take additional steps to have at least one-third of their faculty be black and another third persons of color. In addition, senior faculty positions – those setting curricula, selecting incoming students and residents – must include at least one-third from underrepresented backgrounds (black, Hispanic, Native American/Indigenous).

2. Hospital administration has to resemble the communities in which the hospital serves. Unfortunately, all too often, we know this is not the case, and as a result, decisions that affect the care of black and brown people are often to their detriment because they perpetuate the racism within the existing system. In order to dismantle racism in the hospital system, hospital administrations must consist of diverse individuals. Therefore, hospitals need to commit to hiring and promoting black and brown staff to ensure one-third of its senior leaderships consists of individuals from underrepresented backgrounds.

3. Improving the pipeline that matriculates black and brown students into medical school and residency programs. Lack of access to mentors within the medical field, lack of funding for travel to/from interviews, and lack of knowledge of the overall application process are a few barriers faced by students of color seeking to enter into the medical field. In addition to current scholarship opportunities, medical schools need to allocate funds to connect underrepresented minority students with a range of lived experiences (not just those from impoverished backgrounds but also those from middle class backgrounds who face difficulty gaining acceptance into medical school and residency programs), such as connecting them with mentors by opening opportunities for them to shadow professionals at a conference, travel to residency interviews with most, if not all, expenses covered up front, and have access to local programs that expose them to physicians in several specialties.

These are just a few examples of the active steps we can take to dismantle racism and reconcile the effects of it in the medical field. So if I may borrow from other movements, “Time’s Up” for silence regarding the existence of racism and white supremacy, and now it’s time to truly show that “We are all in this together.”

It is not just my duty but yours also – to ensure that we never have to hear another black man, woman, or child say “I can’t breathe” at the hands of injustice.


Dr. Eleryan (@skinclusionMD) is a social justice activist and was co-chief resident in dermatology (2019-2020) at George Washington University, Washington, DC, and is an Alpha Omega Alpha inductee (2020). She will be a micrographic surgery and dermatologic oncology fellow at the University of California, Los Angeles, in July 2020.

This column is adapted from Dr. Eleryan’s speech at the George Washington University dermatology residency program’s virtual graduation ceremony on June 12.
 

I’ve been reflecting on my entire residency and the last 2 weeks have stood out the most. I have to admit that I’ve been angry, and so are numerous others who look like me. However, after conversations with a few important people in my life, I’ve realized that people care and are open to listening and changing if I give them the opportunity to see through my lens. I don’t want my legacy to be one of anger, but to be one of change, one of activism, one of heroism, and one of taking a stand in the midst of adversity.

So thank you to everyone who has played a part in my residency and is here to celebrate as I transition to the next step in my career.

But I must pause for a moment to say “I can’t breathe.” I can’t breathe because while I sit here in a place of honor for my accomplishments, I can’t forget that I’m standing in the gap for all of the black men and women who will never have the opportunity to experience a moment like this.

I can’t breathe because George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, Tony McDade, Trayvon Martin, Philando Castile, Sandra Bland, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, Mike Brown, Emmett Till, and so many others will never get to experience a celebratory occasion such as this because of their senseless executions as a likely result of racial bias.

As a black person in “the land of the free,” I have to live with the fact that my life may be taken for simply taking a stroll through a park, jogging through a neighborhood, driving down the street, walking back home from the store, or even sitting in my own home!

As a black physician, I must contend with the very notion that my privilege as a physician does not shield me from discrimination and bias. I recognize that my race walks into the room before I ever do. I know that many of my patients will question my abilities or my title – thinking I am the receptionist, food services worker, or even part of the janitorial staff – simply because of the color of my skin. And what’s even more disturbing is that some of my colleagues will confuse me with another black woman whom I look nothing like or challenge my intelligence and abilities and how I got my position.

All of this boils down to racism – pure and simple. Black people in this country don’t have the privilege of ignoring this truth. We know that this world is not colorblind; neither is anyone in it. We know that this is entrenched racism that for generations has created racial disparities in health care, education, housing, employment, and law enforcement. We weren’t born into a fragile or vulnerable state, yet we were born into a system of dis-enfranchisement, dis-investment, dis-crimination, dis-advantage, and dis-respect.

As physicians, we must recognize and acknowledge the lived experiences that walk through the door with our black patients. And we must understand that black patients walk around with the effects of trauma and toxic stress from just being black in America. That trauma and stress show up in very real ways that contribute to black people experiencing the brunt of chronic diseases and poorer health outcomes. There is no better example than the current COVID-19 pandemic. We are in the midst of a global pandemic from a virus that does not discriminate based on race, but black people are almost three times as likely to be hospitalized as are white people with COVID-19 . And why is that? Because of the “comorbidity” of racism that black people in this country live with. It is not a mere coincidence that the black population is overrepresented in essential jobs and black people are more likely to work in health care than are white people – all positions that increase the risk of infection and death from the virus. So, if we call COVID-19 a pandemic, racism most certainly has been a pandemic that this country has refused to acknowledge, treat, and vaccinate for centuries. We cannot ignore that both have tragically affected black people.

So as Pastor Reginald Sharpe Jr. in Chicago recently said, we’re dealing with two pandemics: One has no vaccination and one has no explanation; one can physiologically take your breath away because it affects the respiratory system, while the second can also take your breath away. Just ask Eric Garner and George Floyd.

As physicians, we must recognize that the mechanisms that tragically resulted in the deaths of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, and so many other black men and women are the same mechanisms that are harming and killing black people in our health care system. It’s not acceptable for institutions that built themselves on black and brown bodies to offer condolences, but to continue to do nothing about the racism that still runs rampant within. It’s not acceptable to do nothing. It’s important to note: Racist systems do not perpetuate themselves – the individuals operating within them do.

Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “He who passively accepts evil is as much involved in it as he who helps to perpetuate it. He who accepts evil without protesting against it is really cooperating with it.” Being well-intentioned, good-hearted, sad, or disheartened is not enough. We won’t be able to tear down the systems and institutions that have been a breeding ground for racism until outrage is met by action, not just from black people and people of color, but also by the white majority.

As physicians it’s time for us to look at how our health care institution – an institution instrumental in the victimization of black people – is affecting the health and well-being of our black patients. (For example, increased maternal mortality among black women.)

Are they being seen and heard? Are they receiving culturally relevant and sensitive care? Are their needs and concerns receiving the same amount of time and attention as other patients? It’s time to understand that, for many black patients, the health care system is another place of injustice that has not proved itself to be trustworthy or inclusive of black culture.

As physicians, we must affirm that the lives and health of black and brown people matter to us, that we see the racism they experience, and that we will use our platform as physicians to eliminate racism not just in the hospitals but in the world our patients live in.

So while I didn’t choose the body that I was born into, I fully embrace it and the challenges that come with it. I’m not here to make people feel comfortable, I’m here to continue the work of my ancestors, accomplish the dreams that they fought and lost their lives for, and most importantly, I’m here to continue the fight against the systems that work to prevent other marginalized persons from getting to where I am and even further.

The author James Baldwin once wrote, “Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.” So, I urge you to be loudly antiracist in every space that you hold. I urge you to educate yourselves about racism and white supremacy and privilege and how it permeates our health care system. I urge you to stand beside black people rather than in front of them. Use your privilege to amplify underheard voices and to challenge the biases of your peers, friends, and family members. Use your platform as physicians to advocate for a more just and equitable health care system.

So let me repeat ... we as physicians have the responsibility to eliminate racial bias in the practice of medicine and recognize racism as a threat to the health and well-being of black people and other people of color.

How do we do this? We are beyond lengthy dialogue and “Black History Month” talks. Now is the time for action. Taking action includes the following:
 

1. Medical academic institutions committing to having a diverse and inclusive faculty. We know it is critical and vital to the recruitment, success, and matriculation of medical students and residents of color to see faculty, particularly senior level faculty in their specialty, who look like them and can serve as mentors. Every year, these institutions need to set a goal that they will take additional steps to have at least one-third of their faculty be black and another third persons of color. In addition, senior faculty positions – those setting curricula, selecting incoming students and residents – must include at least one-third from underrepresented backgrounds (black, Hispanic, Native American/Indigenous).

2. Hospital administration has to resemble the communities in which the hospital serves. Unfortunately, all too often, we know this is not the case, and as a result, decisions that affect the care of black and brown people are often to their detriment because they perpetuate the racism within the existing system. In order to dismantle racism in the hospital system, hospital administrations must consist of diverse individuals. Therefore, hospitals need to commit to hiring and promoting black and brown staff to ensure one-third of its senior leaderships consists of individuals from underrepresented backgrounds.

3. Improving the pipeline that matriculates black and brown students into medical school and residency programs. Lack of access to mentors within the medical field, lack of funding for travel to/from interviews, and lack of knowledge of the overall application process are a few barriers faced by students of color seeking to enter into the medical field. In addition to current scholarship opportunities, medical schools need to allocate funds to connect underrepresented minority students with a range of lived experiences (not just those from impoverished backgrounds but also those from middle class backgrounds who face difficulty gaining acceptance into medical school and residency programs), such as connecting them with mentors by opening opportunities for them to shadow professionals at a conference, travel to residency interviews with most, if not all, expenses covered up front, and have access to local programs that expose them to physicians in several specialties.

These are just a few examples of the active steps we can take to dismantle racism and reconcile the effects of it in the medical field. So if I may borrow from other movements, “Time’s Up” for silence regarding the existence of racism and white supremacy, and now it’s time to truly show that “We are all in this together.”

It is not just my duty but yours also – to ensure that we never have to hear another black man, woman, or child say “I can’t breathe” at the hands of injustice.


Dr. Eleryan (@skinclusionMD) is a social justice activist and was co-chief resident in dermatology (2019-2020) at George Washington University, Washington, DC, and is an Alpha Omega Alpha inductee (2020). She will be a micrographic surgery and dermatologic oncology fellow at the University of California, Los Angeles, in July 2020.

This column is adapted from Dr. Eleryan’s speech at the George Washington University dermatology residency program’s virtual graduation ceremony on June 12.
 

I’ve been reflecting on my entire residency and the last 2 weeks have stood out the most. I have to admit that I’ve been angry, and so are numerous others who look like me. However, after conversations with a few important people in my life, I’ve realized that people care and are open to listening and changing if I give them the opportunity to see through my lens. I don’t want my legacy to be one of anger, but to be one of change, one of activism, one of heroism, and one of taking a stand in the midst of adversity.

So thank you to everyone who has played a part in my residency and is here to celebrate as I transition to the next step in my career.

But I must pause for a moment to say “I can’t breathe.” I can’t breathe because while I sit here in a place of honor for my accomplishments, I can’t forget that I’m standing in the gap for all of the black men and women who will never have the opportunity to experience a moment like this.

I can’t breathe because George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, Tony McDade, Trayvon Martin, Philando Castile, Sandra Bland, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, Mike Brown, Emmett Till, and so many others will never get to experience a celebratory occasion such as this because of their senseless executions as a likely result of racial bias.

As a black person in “the land of the free,” I have to live with the fact that my life may be taken for simply taking a stroll through a park, jogging through a neighborhood, driving down the street, walking back home from the store, or even sitting in my own home!

As a black physician, I must contend with the very notion that my privilege as a physician does not shield me from discrimination and bias. I recognize that my race walks into the room before I ever do. I know that many of my patients will question my abilities or my title – thinking I am the receptionist, food services worker, or even part of the janitorial staff – simply because of the color of my skin. And what’s even more disturbing is that some of my colleagues will confuse me with another black woman whom I look nothing like or challenge my intelligence and abilities and how I got my position.

All of this boils down to racism – pure and simple. Black people in this country don’t have the privilege of ignoring this truth. We know that this world is not colorblind; neither is anyone in it. We know that this is entrenched racism that for generations has created racial disparities in health care, education, housing, employment, and law enforcement. We weren’t born into a fragile or vulnerable state, yet we were born into a system of dis-enfranchisement, dis-investment, dis-crimination, dis-advantage, and dis-respect.

As physicians, we must recognize and acknowledge the lived experiences that walk through the door with our black patients. And we must understand that black patients walk around with the effects of trauma and toxic stress from just being black in America. That trauma and stress show up in very real ways that contribute to black people experiencing the brunt of chronic diseases and poorer health outcomes. There is no better example than the current COVID-19 pandemic. We are in the midst of a global pandemic from a virus that does not discriminate based on race, but black people are almost three times as likely to be hospitalized as are white people with COVID-19 . And why is that? Because of the “comorbidity” of racism that black people in this country live with. It is not a mere coincidence that the black population is overrepresented in essential jobs and black people are more likely to work in health care than are white people – all positions that increase the risk of infection and death from the virus. So, if we call COVID-19 a pandemic, racism most certainly has been a pandemic that this country has refused to acknowledge, treat, and vaccinate for centuries. We cannot ignore that both have tragically affected black people.

So as Pastor Reginald Sharpe Jr. in Chicago recently said, we’re dealing with two pandemics: One has no vaccination and one has no explanation; one can physiologically take your breath away because it affects the respiratory system, while the second can also take your breath away. Just ask Eric Garner and George Floyd.

As physicians, we must recognize that the mechanisms that tragically resulted in the deaths of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, and so many other black men and women are the same mechanisms that are harming and killing black people in our health care system. It’s not acceptable for institutions that built themselves on black and brown bodies to offer condolences, but to continue to do nothing about the racism that still runs rampant within. It’s not acceptable to do nothing. It’s important to note: Racist systems do not perpetuate themselves – the individuals operating within them do.

Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “He who passively accepts evil is as much involved in it as he who helps to perpetuate it. He who accepts evil without protesting against it is really cooperating with it.” Being well-intentioned, good-hearted, sad, or disheartened is not enough. We won’t be able to tear down the systems and institutions that have been a breeding ground for racism until outrage is met by action, not just from black people and people of color, but also by the white majority.

As physicians it’s time for us to look at how our health care institution – an institution instrumental in the victimization of black people – is affecting the health and well-being of our black patients. (For example, increased maternal mortality among black women.)

Are they being seen and heard? Are they receiving culturally relevant and sensitive care? Are their needs and concerns receiving the same amount of time and attention as other patients? It’s time to understand that, for many black patients, the health care system is another place of injustice that has not proved itself to be trustworthy or inclusive of black culture.

As physicians, we must affirm that the lives and health of black and brown people matter to us, that we see the racism they experience, and that we will use our platform as physicians to eliminate racism not just in the hospitals but in the world our patients live in.

So while I didn’t choose the body that I was born into, I fully embrace it and the challenges that come with it. I’m not here to make people feel comfortable, I’m here to continue the work of my ancestors, accomplish the dreams that they fought and lost their lives for, and most importantly, I’m here to continue the fight against the systems that work to prevent other marginalized persons from getting to where I am and even further.

The author James Baldwin once wrote, “Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.” So, I urge you to be loudly antiracist in every space that you hold. I urge you to educate yourselves about racism and white supremacy and privilege and how it permeates our health care system. I urge you to stand beside black people rather than in front of them. Use your privilege to amplify underheard voices and to challenge the biases of your peers, friends, and family members. Use your platform as physicians to advocate for a more just and equitable health care system.

So let me repeat ... we as physicians have the responsibility to eliminate racial bias in the practice of medicine and recognize racism as a threat to the health and well-being of black people and other people of color.

How do we do this? We are beyond lengthy dialogue and “Black History Month” talks. Now is the time for action. Taking action includes the following:
 

1. Medical academic institutions committing to having a diverse and inclusive faculty. We know it is critical and vital to the recruitment, success, and matriculation of medical students and residents of color to see faculty, particularly senior level faculty in their specialty, who look like them and can serve as mentors. Every year, these institutions need to set a goal that they will take additional steps to have at least one-third of their faculty be black and another third persons of color. In addition, senior faculty positions – those setting curricula, selecting incoming students and residents – must include at least one-third from underrepresented backgrounds (black, Hispanic, Native American/Indigenous).

2. Hospital administration has to resemble the communities in which the hospital serves. Unfortunately, all too often, we know this is not the case, and as a result, decisions that affect the care of black and brown people are often to their detriment because they perpetuate the racism within the existing system. In order to dismantle racism in the hospital system, hospital administrations must consist of diverse individuals. Therefore, hospitals need to commit to hiring and promoting black and brown staff to ensure one-third of its senior leaderships consists of individuals from underrepresented backgrounds.

3. Improving the pipeline that matriculates black and brown students into medical school and residency programs. Lack of access to mentors within the medical field, lack of funding for travel to/from interviews, and lack of knowledge of the overall application process are a few barriers faced by students of color seeking to enter into the medical field. In addition to current scholarship opportunities, medical schools need to allocate funds to connect underrepresented minority students with a range of lived experiences (not just those from impoverished backgrounds but also those from middle class backgrounds who face difficulty gaining acceptance into medical school and residency programs), such as connecting them with mentors by opening opportunities for them to shadow professionals at a conference, travel to residency interviews with most, if not all, expenses covered up front, and have access to local programs that expose them to physicians in several specialties.

These are just a few examples of the active steps we can take to dismantle racism and reconcile the effects of it in the medical field. So if I may borrow from other movements, “Time’s Up” for silence regarding the existence of racism and white supremacy, and now it’s time to truly show that “We are all in this together.”

It is not just my duty but yours also – to ensure that we never have to hear another black man, woman, or child say “I can’t breathe” at the hands of injustice.


Dr. Eleryan (@skinclusionMD) is a social justice activist and was co-chief resident in dermatology (2019-2020) at George Washington University, Washington, DC, and is an Alpha Omega Alpha inductee (2020). She will be a micrographic surgery and dermatologic oncology fellow at the University of California, Los Angeles, in July 2020.