On Being the Only Brown Face in the Room

When I first began practicing as an attending, I was tasked with restructuring some hospital-based practices and procedures. As part of this work, I frequently asked for feedback from other attendings. One attending was consistently silent, so I decided to reach out personally; by the time I had done so, however, it was after the bulk of my project was completed. I later learned that after I tried to contact him and failed, he approached the department chairperson about my inquiry. He then went looking for me. One day, my secretary greeted me in my office, stating ominously, "Dr … is looking for you and wants to talk to you—he was very angry and said that when he sees you, he will cut your head off!" My secretary explained that he was just walking the halls looking for me; when he was unable to find me in person, he uttered loudly his desire to "cut" my head off in the presence of many of my colleagues and stormed off.

I thought this was all a bizarre joke, but saw in my secretary's face that she was not joking at all—he really did say this. I asked the chairperson for advice, and he informed me that this particular attending had been the former department chair for decades; despite the fact that he stepped down to phase into retirement, there was an implicit understanding that no major changes were to be made in the department without his knowledge and consent. As the new attending, I did not know this. I was concerned, but reasoned it was a simple misunderstanding. Secretly wishing my secretary was exaggerating, I made arrangements to talk to this attending, prepared with a smile and an apology.

We later met face to face in his office. To my surprise, I walked into a barrage of heavy cursing from the physician disparaging me for implementing changes without his knowledge and consent. His colleague was also present to support him and added to the loud, harsh rhetoric. They both openly questioned my education and what my class rank was, repeatedly asking, "where did she come from?" and the department chair should "look into" my background. They strongly suggested that I was not qualified, or may have even lied to get my new position. Both of these physicians were White and I am Black. I felt that their manner of speaking and the gist of their questioning would not have occurred had I not been Black.

I was so shocked, I froze in my chair, but did my best to use my words to defend myself. They were unmoved. Eventually, I gathered the courage to stand up and walk away. I shuffled back to my office, confused, frustrated, and in tears. I felt so disrespected and so devalued, and I could not figure out what I did wrong. I considered walking away right then and there and never returning to my job. But after reconsidering, I returned to work the following day and approached my chair about what happened. My chair stated that this attending is known for his uncivil behaviors, and that nothing could be done except to ignore it, don't take it seriously, and just move on. I felt alone. Still, I went on to tell other colleagues in the department about what happened and was told the same thing. I said that I felt I was treated inferiorly due to my race and gender, but was corrected by colleagues that no one is racist in our department. I was made to feel like I was overreacting.

But I wondered—how would anyone in this department really be capable of understanding this experience from a race lens if I was—and still am—the only Black female attending in the entire department (the only other being a semi-retired Black male)? Why wasn't anyone at least curious enough to consider the possibility?

I spent years after that event paranoid over what these physicians might say or even do to me if we unexpectedly ran into each other. When I did...