A Doctor with Any Other Skin

      There was a lot of interesting bits in the news this week (including a pretty hilarious Saturday Night Live skit spoofing the most recent U.S. presidential debate).  But the piece of news that stuck with me the most was about a doctor's experience on a recent Delta airlines flight.  A fellow passenger was experiencing a health crisis, and the flight crew called for a medical professional.  Dr. Cross raised a hand to volunteer, but a flight attendant declined the offer of assistance, stating the crew wanted "a real physician."
      What made this flight attendant think Dr. Cross wasn't a real physician?  The only possible cues this flight attendant could have called on to make this erroneous assumption were Dr. Cross's appearance: clothing, age, gender, and skin color.
      Dr. Tamika Cross is a young Black woman.  You do the math.

This is what a doctor looks like, America.

      If you haven't read Dr. Cross' original Facebook post, I highly recommend that you do so.
      There are two layers of atrociousness to Dr. Cross' experience.  One is that the prejudices of that flight attendant could have cost the sick passenger his life.  What if there hadn't been another medical professional on board?  How long would the flight attendant have dithered about, making Dr. Cross drag out some kind of ID to satisfy her doubts?  The other is a deeper, sadder truth about our judgements and decisions under stress.
      I recently attended a fabulous training on racial diversity.  The presenter made a point early on of saying that she judges people all the time--in fact she judges them before she's even seen them.  She gave the example of making judgements about the people she's hired to train based on where they work, their line of work, where they sit in the room, what they're wearing, etc.  Then she pointed out: "Judging people like this is normal, everyone does it.  Don't be worried that I'm judging you--be worried if I'm not aware of it."
      Of course I do this, too.  And I'm sad to say that the first thing that comes to my mind when I hear the word "doctor" is a White man.  But it's happened to me enough that I am aware of it--that, and other prejudicial, knee-jerk assumptions that lurk in my unconscious mind.  When people wonder why it's so important to have diversity in things like the cast of TV shows and movies, or in the characters of novels, this is why.  We need to see people of all genders, colors, body types, ages, and sexual orientation in all kinds of life roles.
      It's even more important that we see that kind of diversity in real life, which brings us to Affirmative Action...but that's another post.  We think that these kinds of superficial, snap-judgement prejudices are relatively harmless.  So what if the first thing we think when someone is driving slow is "probably a little old lady," or if we see someone struggling with an ATM we as assume, "must not be from this country?"  Now we know what: the doctor on the plane when you're having organ failure might be a little old lady, or might have English as a second language.  Fortunately, the signs of heart attack are the same no matter where you are from in the world.
      If that flight attendant wasn't aware of how she judged people before this incident occurred, I sincerely hope she's aware of it now.  I'm going to keep pushing myself to over-come my own mental stereotypes.
      Delta airlines is apparently investigating the incident.  Dr. Cross is not responding to media requests for interviews, which is the professional thing to do.  She is completing her final year of residency at a hospital, and believe me when I say hospitals do not like their medical staff to be in the news for any reason besides awards.  Although many people - including myself - would like to see Dr. Cross speak about her experience on a respectable national news program, keeping silent is definitely the way to go.
     The only point on which I disagree with Dr. Cross is on the issue of compensation.  According to her Facebook post, she would accept Skymiles as part of the airlines apology.  Whereas I intend to never fly Delta again.



*The type who are disinclined to believe in the existence of rampant racism in our society, which is sometimes subtle and sometimes not so subtle.

Support in Unexpected Places

      I spent this last weekend in Seattle attending Geek Girl Con.  I went because I am essentially a nerdy person, with interests ranging from Star Trek to Star Wars, from fantasy novels to anime, and from video games to cosplay.  In other words, I went to find other women such as myself: I went to feel like a part of a community.

      Women are under-represented or exploited in much of geek culture.  We're often hyper-sexualized, as brilliantly highlighted in The Hawkeye Initiative.  In movies and novels, we're often slotted as support characters whose main purpose is to back-up the male protagonist.  Or worse, we're often redshirted or fridged as a means to further the plot.  The purpose of Geek Girl Con is to identify, discuss, and support healthy and positive use of female characters, and the women who work in geeky industries such as computer science or the comic industry.
      I am happy to report that I got what I wanted out of the experience.  Every minute of the convention, I was surrounded by other people who shared not only my interests, but were willing to be brave about it.  I'm even happier to say that the support was not limited to just women--not by a long shot.  This was a convention that takes pride in being a voice of social justice: ethnic minorities, LGBTQ minorities, religious minorities, and all body types and abilities were being supported, loud and clear.
      I learned about so many wonderful aspects of nerd culture I'd never known before.  I discovered the Gaymer community, and learned about how they're working to eliminate homophobia in video games at every level.  I learned about organizations that support differently-abled individuals in accessing video games, both for pleasure and as a means to support physical activity.  I learned about women taking control of their bodies and drawing healthy boundaries by enjoying cosplay without being victimized.

      But I was most deeply stirred when I learned about "Blerds." The term refers to self-identified Black Nerds who are building a community of their own, and calling out for strong and positive representation.  In the last panel I attended, I got to hear Blerd journalist Valerie Complex describe her experiences of being shunted to the side again and again, not taken seriously as a writer or a geek.  She talked about how businesses and organizations would claim to be diverse--then she would show up, and find that she was the only non-white person there.  She also talked about how these same groups would bemoan how "no minorities every show up, no black people every apply!"  Her answer to this was so simple and yet so profound: she said that these same organizations don't reach out.  She asked why they had not attended meetings, festivals, or job fairs in the Black community.  She said, "If you don't go to their party to show your interest and support, why would you assume they would want to come to your party?  Why would they feel safe doing so?"
      It immediately struck me how this was true for so many groups, not just employers or conventions.  It's true for political groups.  It's even true for social services.  Outreach is essential in every area, and that's true of individuals as well.  I hope to be more mindful of this concept myself, moving forward on my own journey to being a better Ally.