I see you

Renée Bailey, 2T5 WB

Artist's Statement: This short story, entitled “I see you” was inspired by a patient teacher who shared her struggle of navigating her breast cancer diagnosis while simultaneously dealing with racism and discrimination as a Black female patient. This short story is entitled “I see you” because it highlights the shared experience of racism, discrimination, and separation that both Black physicians and Black patients face in their roles. The underrepresentation of Black physicians, has had significant implications on the safety, comfort, and trust Black patients have in the healthcare system. The term “I see you,” marks the value Black physicians hold in deeply understanding and recognizing the struggles experienced by Black patients in medicine.

I see you. 

Even if it was in a room full of a thousand people, I would still see you. 

I see your tears. It is never easy hearing the words “you have breast cancer”. It feels as though the floor underneath you - that security you once felt about your life, your health, your future - was unapologetically taken away from you. Without warning. Without any certainty that it will be returned. 

But it isn’t the tears that make me recognize your face in the crowd. 

It’s the one trait we share that marks both our resilience, and at the same time, our collective struggle. 

It’s our Blackness. 

I see you. And I’m so happy that I finally spotted you in the crowd.

Navigating the journey of sickness and recovery is no easy feat. And doing so while facing racism and discrimination in the process is a struggle that no one should have to bear. This is the moment in your life where you desperately want to be seen. 

Heard. 

Validated. 

You sought through the crowd. Hoping to meet eyes with someone who understands you. And for a long time, there was no one in sight. 

But I see you now. 

And you see me.

And more than that, I resonate with your struggle as a Black person, and Black female, in this world. 

It’s interesting. Finding you in the crowd that day offered me just as much hope and encouragement as it did you. 

Because now, when I walk into an OR room and find that, yet again, I am the only Black person in that space, I feel strength because I’m reminded of you. I’m reminded of how happy you were that day when I spotted you in the crowd. Even as tears fell from your face, you smiled at the sight of me.

And so, on the days to come, when I feel discouraged for being the only Black person in a medical space, I will remember that a time will come when another, like us, hopes to be seen. 

Wants to be seen. 

Needs to be seen. 

And our eyes will meet. Even if it’s in a crowd full of a thousand people. 

And when that happens. I will smile. Tears may just flow down my eyes. Because in that moment, I will be so happy to know that I was there. That I was present to spot them in the crowd.