Driven by inequality

As the daughter of a doctor who received his medical training in the Jim Crow days of the early 1950s, I found the parallels between his and Dr. Stanford’s experiences astounding and, sadly, not at all surprising. Both had families who, no matter their own circumstances, believed in them, a strong faith foundation, and mentors who advised and stood up for them at critical junctures. Both struggled to fight low expectations and all that came with them. As tough as things were for my father, I imagine that some 50 years later, Ala Stanford, M.D., may very well have had it worse as both an African American and a woman.

To call Dr. Stanford’s memoir “Take Care of Them Like My Own: Faith, Fortitude, and a Surgeon’s Fight for Health Justice” inspiring would be a gross understatement. Ostensibly, it’s divided into two parts: 1) pre-COVID and 2) the darkest days of the pandemic. Nevertheless, I would argue that it isn’t difficult for the reader to also see the first portion of the book as Dr. Stanford’s journey from birth to practicing as a pediatric surgeon in early 2020 — who is Ala and how did she become so darn amazing? — followed by how she then took action in the face of COVID, applying what she had learned and experienced in her life thus far. All against the backdrop of persistent discrimination and chronic inequity in health care.

The child of a mother who was only 14 when she had her, Dr. Stanford grew up in Philadelphia. The inevitable circumstances resulting from her birth notwithstanding, she came to benefit largely from her mother’s involvement in the 1970s in an Afrocentric collaborative, the Black Humanist Fellowship, which ran its own primary school. There, rather than being derided, its students’ African roots were celebrated. As Stanford writes, being a part of such a close-knit community based on uplifting each of its members “paid a huge dividend in my life.” There were more dividends to come, along with many challenges. Or, in Stanford’s words, “I know what it’s like when people believe in you, and I know what it’s like when they don’t.” The first group included her mother and father, other family members, and mentors, especially during her medical training. Among the latter group were far too many teachers, once she left the collaborative’s school: “Expectations for me and people who looked like me apparently came in three flavors: low, lower, lowest” — and the men who sexually abused her while still a child. Yes, she writes about that, as well.

At eight, young Ala had decided she wanted to be a doctor, describing it as her way “OUT” of the poverty embodied by her neighborhood. By eighth grade, she was adding “doctor” to the end of her name. A few years later, in visits with high school guidance counselors, her goals were clearly formulated, though rarely taken seriously. After one such disheartening visit, “I made a vow to myself: From then until college acceptance, I would ignore the guidance counselor and focus instead on what I believed.” By the time she gets to college at Penn State, readers are already cheering her successes, grateful for those who helped her to achieve them, and sharing in her many disappointments.

While she did ultimately achieve her dream, becoming the second Black female pediatric surgeon in the U.S., Dr. Stanford eloquently describes just how difficult those nine years after college to get there were — the slights, snubs, and doubts, from those around her, as well as herself, and the built-in advantages to others of what she calls “generational knowledge.” Before even arriving at medical school at Penn State-Hershey, she was keenly aware of the dearth of Black physicians in general (fewer than 6 percent), but the actual disparities became more and more apparent as she proceeded with her training. “We all have preconceived notions about things. But if the next generation of doctors is dominated by people unfamiliar with why certain health disparities are the way they are, then we’re guaranteeing more years of suboptimal care and choices…Evidence has shown that having even one Black doctor on staff improves cultural competence and patient outcomes – just one!”

And then came COVID. Her stories from the frontlines of the COVID response in the poorer, most vulnerable communities of Philadelphia not only vividly remind readers of days they hope never to repeat, but also just how lucky many of them were to receive badly needed care, testing, and later, vaccines. Dr. Stanford quickly recognized the gaps and, with extraordinary determination, a team of volunteers, a van, and her own limited resources, set out to fill them. To reach those without cars or who had to work — despite the risks — during the hours of testing in more affluent locations, she set up mobile units at Black churches. Thus, the Black Doctors Consortium was born. The accounts of the panic we all experienced in those first few months is all too familiar, but it is important to read Dr. Stanford’s story and recognize that while it may have been bad for us, it was even worse for others, primarily because of the color of their skin and an undeniable history of disparity. While addressing chronic needs in and around her Philadelphia community, her trajectory drastically shifted to being a true advocate for change across the country.

Throughout it all, though, Dr. Stanford never forgot from whence she came and has taken every opportunity to be a mentor herself. For the dedication of her book, she writes these beautiful words:

“To all the young and old people who are told they aren’t smart enough or beautiful enough: You are.

Who are told the abuse is their fault: It isn’t.

Who think they have to be defined by what happened to them or what they were denied: You don’t.

Continue to follow your faith, travel the path not taken, and take chances on yourself. You will find that you will not only stand; you will soar.”

As Americans, we should all be tremendously grateful that Ala Stanford soared, and continues to do so.

Dr. Ala Stanford will be talking with Linsey Davis at Union Chapel on Tuesday, August 13. Doors open at 4:30. Dr Stanford will also be appearing at 7:30 pm on Sunday, August 18, at the opening night of Islanders Write at Featherstone Center for the Arts.