Racial health disparities research has gained much attention in recent years, particularly as the COVID-19 pandemic revealed some of the structural issues that disproportionately impact Black and brown Americans. When you look at what’s going on in the United States from a 30,000-foot view, one can see that the complex interplay between policy, access, institutionalized discrimination, and interpersonal interactions sets the stage for disparate health outcomes. But when your scope isn’t as wide and you can’t see the larger systems at play, it’s difficult to explain why the people around you are getting sick. In some ways, it just feels normal. At least that’s how I felt throughout my childhood.
Cancer has long been a word that strikes fear into the hearts of families and as a young kid, I was no exception. I first became familiar with cancer around second grade and began to see cancer as synonymous with losing loved ones. I witnessed other diseases and chronic conditions affecting my loved ones like diabetes, sickle cell, and hypertension as I grew older. My scope wasn’t nearly as wide as it is now at 25 when it comes to understanding the various genetic, physiological, environmental, and behavioral factors that impact how disease manifests. Instead, it was narrow, with a growing existential fear that I, too, would have to deal with similar problems one day.
My hometown of Birmingham, Alabama is well known for the role it played in the Civil Rights Movement of the 1950s and 60s. As a result, I grew up with a deep sense of respect for the Black American struggle for social equality. This respect was instilled in me through my parents, family friends, and church family down at Westminster Presbyterian Church. The presence of freedom fighters, preachers, educators, and Black professionals in my life impressed upon me that I was a part of a tapestry of lives collectively fighting for the rights of all people. While I didn’t know why things were the way they were, the gears in my brain were turning and connecting my experience of seeing my family members deal with disease with the larger backdrop of social inequality plaguing Black people in this country. My scope was widening ever so slightly.
Fast forward to when I began my undergraduate tenure at Morehouse College t 18. I was studying physics with aspirations of becoming an engineer one day. While I was learning how to do Lorentz transformations and use Schrödinger's equation in the classroom, I was captivated by conversations about the impact of race, political ideologies, and religion on people’s lives outside of the classroom. With each passing semester, I felt that my scope was widening at an unprecedented speed. I also began feeling like maybe there was an opportunity for me to do something about it.
Morehouse was a catalyst for my burgeoning interest in social issues and equity. My time there helped me crystallize a pivotal idea that has since been foundational to my outlook on life: As a Black person in this country, your Blackness will likely be made out to be a problem. Whether it be in school, the workplace, or in your relationships, being Black can be a real factor in how you experience the world (oftentimes to your detriment). If you’re not careful, you may end up believing the lie that being Black is inherently problematic. Let me be abundantly clear: that is a lie. This may be simple to understand, but for so many of us, it can be a challenge to truly believe this deep down. There is a rage, an anger as Audre Lorde wrote about, that can begin to fester in the spirit of the downtrodden that is oftentimes based on falsehoods such as these. The direction of this feeling, however, may be of more importance than the feeling itself. If we direct this anger at ourselves or others as an expression of self-hate, then this anger is not productive towards any type of healing and the destruction of our spirits continues. But if we choose to direct this anger towards the systems and ideologies at the source of these false beliefs, then we may have an opportunity to do something truly progressive.
I realized at some point that I would have to reel in these observations if I ever wanted to figure out how to make meaning of them and maybe contribute to a solution. I still feel like the problems I witness in my personal life and the world around me must be tackled from multiple angles, but I’m just a man. I can’t do it all.
There are plenty of community organizers, lawyers, teachers, and artists that have the same end goal. Researchers however get the unique opportunity to take their observations and ask questions that will lead to the generation of new knowledge. The idea is that this new knowledge will one day help society better understand the issues we face and come up with effective solutions. In so many ways I feel like my life so far has consisted of me gathering information and making observations so that I could one day ask an insightful, informed question. The idea that my experiences, intellect, and curiosity could generate new knowledge that contributes to that progressive change is extremely motivating to me. Whether it’s me or someone else acting on this new knowledge, I will be satisfied knowing that my work will contribute to someone’s life being better.
