There’s a reason oppression works best when it goes unnoticed. About a year ago, I was a high school graduate ready to enroll in college for the Fall semester of 2019. I was at the point where my parents entrusted me with more responsibilities, and it became time for me to see the doctor on my own. It was a new doctor as well, so I was completely out of my element. The doctor was a middle-aged white man, and throughout the appointment, I began to notice how little attention he actually paid to me. I’ve had white male doctors in the past, and I’ve never felt entirely comfortable, safe, or understood. The doctor’s office is such a vulnerable place for anybody, but especially for black women, who are at a statistically higher risk than anyone. The doctor confirmed his flagrant disregard for my health when I brought up the depression I had been going through. All he said to me was,
“Oh, depression? Don’t worry, you’ll get over that.”, and it all clicked. Now, recently I’ve visited a black-owned clinic and my Primary Care doctor and the Nurse Practitioner were both black women. When I mentioned depression this time, the Nurse Practitioner asked me if I wanted to talk about it, then made me (pinky) promise to contact her if I ever got too sad. As a black woman, I feel unheard and spoken-over so much of the time, and being in a space where I feel not only cared for but represented made for the most positive experience I’ve ever had at the doctor’s office. When the first doctor reduced my mental health, I’ve never felt so helpless, especially about my own body. He was able to belittle me, and I went through an entire year keeping quiet about the reality of my mental health. I can’t imagine this only happened to me, and I know so many other young black women must feel alone like I did for so long. Oppression works best when it goes unnoticed because you can’t fight back in a war if you can’t see your enemy.