Habiba Tunau MD

What do you see when you look at this picture? Be honest. Do you just see Black people? Africans? Foreigners? Non-Americans? Or do you see a family of proud immigrants, Black excellence; or Wakanda might possibly be a real place? 

Well, in fairness, you may not know our story, and in light of all the civil and racial unrest going on around the world, it is probable that your perspective on race has changed. 

This picture was taken in 2018 during my father’s visit to the USA.  All the people in the picture are Americans, except for one. Half were born in the USA and the other half are naturalized Americans like myself.

What is my experience with racism as an immigrant and naturalized American?  

Quick backstory: my Jamaican mother and siblings immigrated to the USA from Nigeria when I was almost 16 years old. As a child living in West Africa, the idea of race or its significance was not something I fully understood or focused on. My teachers, leaders, and role models were Black and my race was not a disadvantage in a predominantly black nation. I had a healthy level of self-esteem and what I lacked had more to do with my gender as a female living in a religious male dominated culture. 

At 16 living in Brooklyn, New York and attending an inner city high school, it was quite clear the social, economic, and educational discrepancies that existed between the predominantly White and Black neighborhoods. I was very aware that I was Black but I thought of myself as half African and not “Black American”. I was full of hope and in my new home country, my focus was getting into college and eventually being accepted into medical school.

It didn’t take long for me to absorb my new reality and accept the existence of white privilege or white advantage. I was given labels like “minority”, “underprivileged” and “disadvantaged”. I realized there was a limited view of how well Black people were expected to perform, and they were often discouraged from aspiring too high. My first real experience with racism happened when I told a high school counselor that I was applying to Cornell University. He happened to be an older White male and told me that I was wasting my time.  He said an Ivy League school would not accept a Black girl from an inner city high school and that his neighbor’s kid who was White didn’t even get in — and I had no chance either. Despite having excellent grades both in Nigeria and in high school in the United States, I remember feeling crushed and crying on my way home. I was young, naive, too trusting and I believed him. In Nigeria, I had been raised to respect and believe older people and I did without question. Thankfully, once I got home and told my mother what had happened, she told me not to listen to this man who clearly had some racial bias. The rest is history. I went on to attend and graduate from Cornell University.

I was lucky I had a strong supportive mother who believed in me and did what she could to support my dreams. I think about the number of Black and Brown children whose dreams were crushed before they even started because of someone’s racist words or actions. 

By the time I attended medical school in Charleston South Carolina I had grown used to a certain level of racism. Like walking into a store and being told “you can’t afford anything in here“ or being told by my White male classmate that “you don’t know your place“ when I stood up to him and spoke my mind. I still remember feeling shocked when I asked several of my Southern Black classmates if they would attend an after class social gathering, and I was told, “No it was not at a location that Blacks were welcome!” I thought, “What century are we living in?”  Keep in mind this was around 1999 and sadly, in many places, not much has changed. 

Even as a doctor, in a somewhat privileged role, it is impossible not to see and feel some level of racism in the USA. I have worked in clinics where the only Black face I saw was that of a cleaner mopping the floors. Where are the other Black or Brown doctors and nurses? I would think, “Why are they not hired here?” or “Why do they not want to come here?” At least twice I have made the decision to move or change jobs due to a lack of diversity at my workplace. I felt that my role as a physician was to treat all kinds of people and it bothered me when none of my patients were people of color in some instances.

Over the years working in group practice, solo practice and as a private contractor, I have seen many instances of wage discrimination where Black doctors have been paid less than their White counterparts; or set up to fail, sabotaged and even run out of town! When I could I spoke up, but most times it felt futile speaking up against what was clearly systemic racism. Medicine has always been a conservative field and most doctors are encouraged not to talk about race, politics or religion for fear that it will offend some of the patients or upset the status quo. 

I can understand the African- American distrust for the health care system. Over the years I have heard horrible stories from patients about the care they have received from racist doctors and staff. Just like there are bad police or bad judges there are bad and racist doctors, healthcare providers and hospital administrators. Often Black patients are ignored and given suboptimal care. In my experience this seems to be even more prevalent if you are a poor Black female. It breaks my heart when a patient says, “You are not like the others, you listen”- isn’t that what doctors are supposed to do- listen? And advocate for the patient?  

Case in point — I had a shy African-American, middle-aged woman who worked at a fast food restaurant, come in to see me for an acute visit . She was another provider’s patient who happened to be White. Apparently the woman had called the clinic several times complaining of back pain and a rash. After several attempts, she was offered an appointment, given Motrin and sent home. After about a week, the pain and rash did not subside but got worse, so she requested another appointment. It was at this point she was offered an appointment with me because her provider did not want to be bothered.

At the patient’s visit she told me about her symptoms and after getting her history I asked to see her back. She was reluctant, partly because she was shy, but also because she was not used to being examined, and she stated that the last provider had not examined her! Upon raising her blouse it was quite obvious that the raised rash and back pain was in fact due to shingles, which can be very painful. After prescribing the appropriate medications, I made it a point to call in the patients provider and show them the patients rash. The provider looked embarrassed and just stated “the rash didn’t look like that before.“ (Keep in mind the patient said they were previously not examined.) 

As a female and physician of color it can be exhausting on so many levels. Working in medicine is emotionally draining for anyone, not to mention the health hazards associated with it but when you add the challenges associated with racism in the workplace, it can feel overwhelming. Despite what feels like a rant about my experience with racism I love the United States and I love being a Black woman living here. I pray that one day no matter one’s race or gender a time will come when we are judged less by our appearance. Every human being deserves to be valued despite our superficial differences because after all we are all part of the human race.

Thank you for reading and feel free to SHARE !

Link to VIDEO: Meeting my Nigerian father for the first time in 30 years :

Link to a related Blog post about how Coming to America Changed MY LIFE https://www.habibatunaumd.com/healthfoodinspiration/how-coming-to-america-changed-my-family/