Safe Space

[Martin Hash]

I went to medical school during my 50s, and I choose to do my rotations in the most challenging hospitals located in problematic areas: Harlem, The Bronx, South Miami & East Oakland, and staffed by people as diverse as the patients. I was often the only White from the U.S., in fact, the only White guy in the group of medical students, and certainly the only Old White Guy. I’d heard of racism but never seen it up close and personal, so I was not overly surprised when Highland Hospital said their teaching environment was a Safe Space, and that they felt compelled to create one with this particular group of medical students without saying why.

The reality was, it was the opposite of a safe space because I was harassed to no end. On one occasion, I had to say, “This is inappropriate,” over and over after each statement a female French Resident overseeing me made. Female Attending doctors would like to ask me to answer arcane questions; I'd say I didn’t know, and they’d say I was supposed to know, so I mentioned that in New York this kind of inquisition was considered hazing. Another Resident, an older Columbian doctor who had moved to the U.S., took it upon himself to bully me. I put my arm around his shoulder, big smile on my face, and explained how much I appreciated his help and concern; the testosterone in the air could have caught on fire. The Indian female doctor in charge of the medical students told me that even though she knew I came in early and left late, did everything I was told, and showed initiative, that wasn’t enough; I didn’t reply. Never go on the defensive is my strategy; the tactic seemed to stymie the doctor’s attack, and after a couple minutes, she walked away.

I want to stress that all of these encounters were with minority doctors. The Old White Guy doctors, holdovers from times past, did not miss what was going on; the chief of surgery, a renown heart specialist, invited me to eat lunch with him in the cafeteria when he saw me sitting alone and we laughed about a Russian head transplant surgery hoax while everyone watched in rapt attention. The chief Old White Guy pulmonologist also made a special effort to help me feel included. There were others, though not many because the hospital didn’t have many Whites. The students too, none of which were White males, shielded me however they could; interrupting when I was getting harangued and volunteering to do dirty jobs assigned to me and no one else.

At the end of my rotation, 3 non-White male doctors wanted to talk to me and me only. I let the dramatic meeting go on for 5 minutes or so before turning on my own male dominance, mentioning I already had 2 Doctorates and multiple successful careers and knew exactly what was required; that I studied every morning, not just medicine, but law, science & economics. “You should probably Google me,” I suggested. “I Googled you.” The authoritative pressure ended abruptly and I was allowed to leave. I finally understood what they were talking about when they said the hospital was a Safe Space, they meant safe from me.

OWG1 s.jpg

OWG2.jpg