On Wednesday, December 20, DFCI employees packed Yawkey 306 for a forum to discuss the Boston Globe’s December Spotlight article on racism in Boston hospitals. (Color Line Persists, in Sickness as in Health). The article that prompted this meeting pointed out that at Dana-Farber, 83 percent of our patients are white and only 5 percent are black, and only eight of 359 doctors employed here are black. It was painful to read this about a place I have grown to love. One photo in the article spoke volumes: a young black girl sitting on a table receiving an injection. Her little fists are clenched and her eyes are wide. Fortunately, the health care worker in the photo is also black. I imagined how much more frightening it would have been for this little girl to be surrounded by health care workers who didn’t look like her.
After the sadness, my next reaction was anger. Why haven’t we made more progress in Boston? When I came here in 1981, the era of forced desegregation and busing was winding down, but the resentment lingered. I have become more aware over the last couple of years that even in the heart of Fenway, few of my colleagues are black, and even fewer are the fans streaming into the Park on Red Sox game days. Michael Che on Saturday Night Live announced recently that Boston was the most racist city he had ever visited.
But quick on the heels of anger, my feelings changed to guilt and a sense of failed personal responsibility. I was a child growing up in a suburb of Detroit in the summer of 1967, when the race riots occurred. Lots of us kids, both white and black, were sent to a church summer camp, far from the curfews and news reports. For the most part, we didn’t notice who was black and who was white. We played, swam, sang, ate, hiked, and slept together and didn’t talk about what was happening. But when the camp session was over, the black kids went back to the city and the white kids went back to the suburbs.
Over the years, I was lulled into an all-too-comfortable sense of complacency. I moved from one mostly white suburb to another. Few of my friends, health care providers, or colleagues are people of color. I commented to my husband that even the places we have chosen to vacation are dominated by white people, and that I’m getting sick of it. But the hardest realization of all? This is the life I have chosen, albeit unconsciously. What have I done to bridge the gap? The most I have done at work is to attend the annual MLK events hosted by the Cultural Observances Committee (which have been excellent, by the way. I highly recommend the January 18, 2018 program).
When I heard about the forum event, I decided that as a white person, the first thing I could do was to just show up. I felt uncertain about what I was supposed to do. My gut reaction was to tell people how disgusted and guilty I felt. But instead, I decided it wasn’t a time to talk. It was a time to listen to my colleagues who are people of color. By listening, I learned a lot. And I have a growing list of questions. For instance, how can I foster an environment of safety for my colleagues of color, so they don’t have to worry that their every word could be monitored and judged? What more can I do to change the lack of racial diversity in my own life? Why was Dana-Farber’s first vice president of diversity (2006 – 2011) also its last?
I have a lot more listening to do.
Sandie, thank you so much for sharing such honest comments.
Sandie – Thank you for you thoughtful comments. We have much work ahead to make the difference we all want to see – and to make DFCI the a better and more inclusive place for all.
Thanks, Naomi, and to my other colleague (I’m not sure who you are) whose comment appeared under Naomi’s user name. I’m glad you read the post and shared your comments. Sandie
Sandie, You showed up and you listened. Thank you for that.
And thank you for being so insightful with your remarks. ‘Diversity and Inclusion’ is what I think of as a trendy and necessary phrase that includes many things, but it took the Boston Globe article to bring some attention to race. That is something that often gets ignored under the wide brush of Inclusivity. Your questions & your level of consciousness and awareness make me very proud to be your colleague.
I am glad we are finally having this conversation. It can only make us stronger!
You ask “What have I done to bridge the gap?” For one thing, you have written this inspiring and thought-provoking article. And it has influenced me to attend the event on Jan. 18 that I otherwise would not have.
Thank you Sandie!
Sandie, thank you for showing up to the event and for listening. It’s so important that white people like us be ready to show up and do the work.
Thanks Sandie for coming to the forum! I think it is wonderful that you are continuing the conversation – looking forward to the next opportunity to all meet and discuss.
Sandie: Your words equate to engagement and action and both are needed to make a difference. Thank you for your thoughtful refection, insight, and for making a difference. .
Thank you, everyone, for reading this post and taking the time to comment. I look forward to working with each and every one of you on bridging the racial gap.
What an amazing blog. It takes a lot of courage to write such profound words. What a great act of surrendering to know how sensitive and important this is Sandy. The issue of racism is more real than we could ever imagine. All I wonder each time I think about this is – how much is enough, how long will it be, and what will it take before an action is taken. It all begins with awareness. Once we become aware of this action can be taken. It begins at the individual level. It begins at heart.
Thank you for your comment, Danny.