I
have sought out and been subject to diversity through education and life
experiences, and so much of my understanding of people has changed because of
this. I have found that my experiences enable me to empathize with patients who
confront challenges on their way to achieving their healthcare goals, and I
look forward to contributing this spirit of understanding to the community at
Rosalind Franklin University.
My
parents felt it vital to expose their children to other cultures. My father, a
native of Nova Scotia, received his masters in Islamic Studies from McGill
University before meeting my mother (who had spent several years in Germany). They
both became fluent in French and shortly after their marriage moved to West
Africa, where they lived for fourteen years. My mother says I spoke better
Pular (the language of our local Guinean community) than English. Though I
would not learn the word until much later, “polyglot” was certainly a term to
describe my family.
It
was my parents’ desire to improve our education that brought us back to the
United States. They had dreamed of moving to another country after a few years
but their plans were halted when my father and sister were killed in a car crash.
I was suddenly marked with a distinction of a sort no one wishes: the loss of a
parent and sibling.
This
confrontation with death became the first time I was aware of being
“different”. My cultural experiences before had seemed normal, but now I was
going through something my peers did not understand and everyone found
difficult to talk about. I was acutely aware of the pain of being an outsider.
Though
I bristle at the idea of “good” coming from tragedy, I have been brought into
deeper empathy with those undergoing various forms of suffering. I am genuinely
interested in people and including those who have been marginalized. A desire
to embrace different perspectives has become the theme of my life. I have felt
the pain of not being able to talk about personal crisis and struggles, and I
want to help ameliorate this in others.
Countless
times I have sat with patients who told me stories of family struggles, of
discrimination, of lack of access to necessary treatments like dialysis, of
abuse, of aging, of financial struggles and so many more. This is how I would
contribute to the diversity at Rosalind Franklin University: not by
distinguishing myself as separate but by seeking to understand others’
experiences and searching for ways to heal together.
There
is pain in separation. As fascinating as unique experiences are, I have found
that these celebrations of singularity are hard-won and only made possible
after an individual is made aware of their differences. While certain people
may escape childhood unscathed, the majority of us have residual pain from
instances in which we believed we did not belong. Though I am unable to take
away adversity, I can certainly seek restoration. I look forward to doing so
with my fellow classmates and the patients we encounter.
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