Tag Archives: politics

Hold One Another Up

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Hello Friends!

How was your week?  I wrote in my last, very brief post that it had been a hard few weeks, but whoa-Nellie, these past 10 days or so have been a bit unbelievable.  But then again, almost nothing is truly unbelievable anymore.

When the news first came out about families getting separated at the border, I felt profound empathy for the parents, and then the kids, imagining their despair, grief, and lasting trauma.  But the administration is now targeting even naturalized citizens, looking for fraud on applications to deport people.  My parents, my husband, and all of his siblings are all naturalized citizens.  My son is currently abroad and it occurred to me to wonder whether he will be held up in customs and immigration on his return.  At this point I cannot know for sure that my own child, a native-born American citizen, won’t be kept from me, and even though it is unlikely, I now feel it fully in the realm of the possible.  I know I’m not the only one.  That is simply unacceptable.

It also occurred to me that any of my Latinx friends and co-workers could be stopped on the street or approached on a bus or train, and commanded to show proof of citizenship, as so many across the country have experienced, illegal and unconstitutional as it may be.  45 actually autographed photos of people who have been killed by illegal immigrants, while denying that native-born citizens commit proportionally more crime than immigrants, legal or illegal.   Right now, June 2018 in the United States, it feels to me that only straight, white, Christian, cisgender males are safe.  It all makes me want to vomit.

In the past year or so, people who know me call me an ‘activist.’  I take immense pride in this perception, and at the same time feel a little unworthy.  What have I done?  In 2017 I wrote a lot of letters to Members of Congress–even had Healing Through Connection stationery printed to do it.  I called.  I donated.  I marched.  2018 has been slower in action.  I’m still reading, keeping up, donating, and engaging on social media.  But I feel like it’s not enough, that I should be doing more.

Today I am more aware than ever that most of my colleagues and institutional leaders are white.  I am East Asian.  We are not the targeted groups.  However empathetic and outraged we may feel, we are likely only indirectly affected by current events.  So many of our support staff, however, are people of color.  They hold positions in the organization with the least autonomy, authority, and voice.

We are all expected come to work every day and do our jobs.  We take care of patients.  We put our personal feelings, stressors, and worries aside and meet our patients where they need us, and nobody knows what we might be dealing with ourselves.  But we do this now during a mind-bending crisis of national conscience.  Now is the time when our emotional and social support networks are called forth and tested.  As a physician, a default leader of the patient care team, how can I not acknowledge this profound disturbance of our collective consciousness?  How can I expect my team to perform optimally in a false vacuum?  The realities of our world are simply inescapable, and they affect us all, like it and accept it or not.

I may not be marching in front of Congress or the DHS.  I may not be writing legislators or calling them every day.  I am not a designated leader of my professional society, publishing op-eds on the long term health and societal consequences of our government’s actions.  But I can absolutely stand up in solidarity with and for the people closest to me.

So this week I expressed to my teams in no uncertain terms that whatever anyone is feeling or going through right now, they should know that their physician leaders support them, and we will be here for them however they need us, just like we are all here for our patients.  I made no overt political commentary.  I simply acknowledged the moral morass I see in our country and tried my best to make it safe for us all to experience it together, out loud and in person, and to help one another through it.

If there were ever a time for physicians to walk the talk as leaders, as caregivers for the caregivers, it is now.  I know now that I don’t have to be the loudest or most visible ‘activist.’  I just have to act in accordance with my core values.  And it starts with holding up the people right next to me every day.

It’s a Bad Day, Uncle Groper

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What if your favorite uncle, whom you have always regarded as funny, warm, loving, and virtuous, if a little odd, were accused of sexual harassment or assault?  This is what it feels like to learn of Al Franken’s assault on Leann Tweeden in 2006.  I feel nauseated, embarrassed, disappointed, and confused.  I have liked Al Franken for a long time, ever since his Stuart Smalley bits on Saturday Night Live.  It wasn’t until I listened to his recent memoir, Al Franken, Giant of the Senate, that I learned more about him and liked him even better.  He’s a little too sarcastic and biting for me sometimes, but after hearing his stories of how he became a Democrat and what motivated him to run for office, his family’s emotional journeys and how things work in the Senate, I came to see him as a respectable public servant with the interests of his constituents and all Americans at heart.  I have recommended his book to many of my friends.  I have regarded him as a champion for all things progressive, including women’s rights and equality.

And now all of that is thrown in the blender with allegations that I assume are true.

How do I reconcile this?  How does a person, whom I still believe respects women at his core, behave like this?  Ever?  Do I throw away everything about him that I believed was virtuous, everything he has said and written that I agree with, his decades-long marriage, and relabel him as a misogynist because of this one revelation?  Do I assume that because now we know of one, there must be dozens of others?

I am forced to compare my response to allegations against him to that of allegations against Roy Moore.  I don’t know anything about Roy Moore, but he’s an ultra-conservative Republican (I am a heavily left-leaning independent), so if he goes down for sexual assault, I’m not that bothered, and I’m judgmental of people who defend him.  I must concede that neither party can claim moral superiority.  Just this week at least three articles examined the precedent set by Bill Clinton’s sexual escapades from which he plainly escaped a rightful accounting; the precedent his (and Hillary’s) dismissal of all allegations set for everything we see now, and why he should have resigned after admitting his abuse of power.  And today Nate Silver laid out an excellent case for Al Franken to resign now.  I agree that that would be the epitome of Walking the Talk, aside from not having committed the groping in the first place.

My inner conflict now churns on two levels.  First, I must decide what I now think and feel about Al Franken, whether I can still trust him, and how I will interpret any of his words or actions hereafter.  I feel betrayed, and the positivity needle in my mind has how swung a few degrees more toward cynicism, which I hate.  Second, I must examine my immediate reactions when such allegations are made against my political opponents.  I think we can agree that there are some cases of flagrant misogyny, based on years of evidence of poor principles and lack of respect in multiples realms of a person’s life, and we are not concerned with their political leanings—assholes are assholes regardless of party.  But if and when a reputable conservative were to be accused, would I give him the same benefit of the doubt that I wanted to give Al Franken today?  Shouldn’t I try harder to be both objective and compassionate, and rise above my political biases?  Is it appropriate to say we all make mistakes, and that we should give people a chance to prove that they now know better?  If I am willing to say that for Franken today (and I’m not sure I am), will I be willing to say it for, say, Jeff Flake tomorrow?

We all need to decide for ourselves how much we are willing to abide by the standards to which we hold others.  It’s easy until we find ourselves in hot water. So do we lower our standards or rise to the occasion?  Perfectionism and shame loom heavy when we aspire to live a virtuous life, and we can also become arrogant and judgmental.  Then again, looseness with integrity is no way to lead, either.  I wonder what I would do if I were in Al Franken’s shoes tonight.

Hopey, Changey Hero Making

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IVY Litt 11-8-17

NaBloPoMo 2017: Field Notes from a Life in Medicine, Day 8

Funny how I just wrote last night about connecting new dots to old dots.  It just happened again tonight!  A couple of weeks ago I responded to an online ad for an IVY Ideas Night with David Litt, author of Thanks Obama: My Hopey, Changey White House Years, entitled, “How to Inspire, Persuade, and Entertain.”  Litt was a senior speechwriter for President Obama, so I thought I could learn new tips for presentations, and feel a little closer to the president whom I miss so much.

I’ve done public speaking since eighth grade, when our speech teacher first taught us abdominal breathing and I discovered the thrill of holding the attention of a room full of people with only my words.  I work at an academic medical center and I hold zero publications, but my CV documents over 10 years of professional presentations to various audiences.  I thought I was pretty good at this speaking thing.

Three years ago I came across this TED talk by Nancy Duarte, whose ‘secret structure’ of great presentations I have used since I subsequently read her book, Resonate.  Essentially, she recommends that we invite audiences on adventure stories, create active tension between what is and what could be, and most importantly, make the audience the hero.  I have done this better and worse since then, but I always recognize the framework when I see it.  Those familiar with this blog know that I am also a fan of Simon Sinek, whose central message is that we perform at our best when we are crystal clear about our Why.  “People don’t buy what you do, they buy Why you do it,” he says.  Barack Obama employs both authors’ principles with eloquence and finesse, which I noticed reading We Are The Change We Seek, a collection of his speeches as president.  The best speeches delivered in this construction create audiences who are inspired, motivated, and empowered to hail a meaningful call to action.

Obama is could be core values

That’s basically what David Litt conveyed tonight.  When asked what advice he was given that served him best, he said, “Imagine someone in your audience will tell their friend tomorrow about your talk.  What is the one thing you want them to say about it?”  What is the Why of your talk?  Even though he no longer writes speeches for the most powerful person in the world, he expressed a desire to continue inspiring, empowering, and promoting personal agency in all whom his work touches. Make each and every audience member their own hero.

It turns out, however, that this approach applies to much more than public speaking.  On my 50 hour, 500 mile, aspen-pursuing weekend in Colorado last month, I described to my dear friend my favorite moments at work.  At the end of a patient’s day-long physical, after I have spent 90 minutes listening to their stories of weight gain and loss, work transitions and complex family dynamics, and reviewing their biometrics and blood test results, I meet with them for an additional 30 minutes to debrief.  This is when I present an integrated action plan compiled by the nutritionist, exercise physiologist, and myself.  It is a bulleted summary of our conversations throughout the day, centered on the patient’s core values and self-determined short and long term health goals, and crafted with their full participation.  I get to reflect back to my patients all that I see them doing well, and shine light on areas for potential improvement.  It’s an opportunity to explore the possible—to Aim High, Aim Higher, as the United States Air Force exhorts.  I often present the plan with phrases like, “Strong work!” “You’ got this,” and “Can’t wait to see what the coming year brings!”  My friend turned to me as we wound through autumn gold in the Rocky Mountains, a bit tearfully, and said, “You make them the hero of their own story.”  Yeah, I do, I thought, and I got a little teary, too.

Words are powerful.  They are our primary tool for relating to each other, for making another person feel seen, heard, understood, accepted, and loved.  You don’t have to be a public speaker or a presidential speechwriter to make a positive difference with your words.  At work, in your family, with your friends, with people on the street and in the elevator—what is the one thing you want someone to remember from their encounter with you?