Sharee Wright MD Shares her Lived Experiences

I recently interacted with someone who knew me as a resident. I didn't recall doing anything funny or interesting, but that person said, "I had no idea you were this funny! You're so much fun to be around." It wasn't until later that I really stopped and thought about what that meant. At first glance, it seems like nothing. Maybe I wasn't funny and personable during residency; however, my family and a few friends during that time would disagree. 

 

The actual realization was much more profound: As a mechanism for self-preservation and peace of mind, I didn't let that person and many others get to know me during my training. Let that sink in… 

 

Since elementary school, I heard that I have "to work twice as hard to get half as far" and "don't give them a reason to hold you down." These sayings weren't unique to just my household. I could poll several of my friends, and they would have heard the same. Throughout my academic career, I have experienced situations where those statements have proven true. (If I were to list every example of this, I would have a novel on my hands!)

 

The point is that microaggressions – and their profound impact on members of traditionally disadvantaged groups – happen and after experiencing it over and over, you form a protective layer. You adjust so that you don't give the non-minority anything to judge you poorly on. You play the game. So, by the time I entered residency, I knew what to do. In the 15-minute drive to the hospital, I was me – the Sharee from the dirt roads, car shows, and country living in rural Berkeley county. In the 5 minutes before I exited my car, I transitioned to the Sharee that was expected to be grateful in a residency program and "to just have a spot." I knew I could not joke as freely as some of my non-minority peers. I witnessed behavior from some that others would not tolerate from me.

 

I saw my non-minority peers show up unprepared and got a chuckle, a brush-off, or a jokingly "You must have had a fun night!" Meanwhile, if I forgot a note, a lab value, or a dressing change – I heard, "You need to step it up." Or "We're going to keep a closer eye on you." I bit my tongue at the comments that I heard. I couldn't have a slip-up. I worked hard to be on top of every single detail. I gave no reason for anyone to think that I did not belong. 

 

These lived experiences meant that I didn't show my true self. It also meant that in a place where I spent a tremendous amount of time, I had few safe places to decompress and let that wall down; I couldn't risk being too much or too little of anything for fear of being judged, labeled, or spotlighted. Towing that very narrow line of being "just enough" was stressful and exhausting.

 

Unfortunately, this is all too common for any minority in a space where they are one of a few – race, gender, sexuality, etc. Many people shrink themselves to fit into the expected mold.

 

I started breaking down that wall later in my training. It didn't happen all at once. It was a process that took some conscious retraining on my part. How could I fault people for not knowing me when I wouldn't let them know me? Now, I let everyone know – you're getting me how I am. You're getting my wit. You're getting my facial expressions. You're getting my sarcasm. You're getting my directness. 

 

I will not shrink to stand in your space; if I am too much, then build a bigger room.