The Day Disparities Died

Abstract

For many, many years, the public health community has grappled with health disparities. Reducing and/or eliminating health disparities are well-established goals, and have become a fixture in the public health space. The focus on health disparity elimination has permeated policy, resources, institutions of higher learning, and research agendas, to name a few. As a Black female public health professional, I believe that we play a central role in moving the country from a place of disparity to equity. Not only are our professional experiences critical for advancing public health, but our lived experiences can also contribute to the transformation that we all seek. This piece, titled “The Day Disparities Died,” reflects this belief. To view the original version of this poem, see the supplemental material section of this article online.

Well . . . it was quite the scene. I went kicking and screaming . . . for I had grown old and ornery—just plain mean.

My influence was waning and I just couldn’t stand it

With the strength I had left, I demanded

That things remain the same—

That we continue to allow the climate to change in ways that destroy communities already struggling with poverty

That we continue to allow mothers and babies to die because of their race, place, or the lie of inferiority

That we allow violence to continue ravishing communities that have been long neglected and rarely protected

Oh . . . I fought until the last minute.

I gloried over a life long-lived

Lives claimed too soon

I reflected on way back when, when DuBois entered the room

Called me out for who I was and how I came to be.

Citing unsanitary conditions, separate and unequal education, an economy that perpetuated me.

I even remembered heckling at Heckler when my profile was read

So what . . . there is a report. I didn’t feel threatened, but emboldened instead.

Yeah . . . they know I exist, but what will they do?

Invest resources? Try to recruit a new professional crew?

To get to the bottom of my existence? and eliminate me at their insistence?

I think not.

Who cares if there are new policies established, new dollars invested, new offices formed, and new processes tested?

Who are your researchers? Where are the people impacted? They intimately know me, but did you make enough room for their entry?

“Disparities” is what you all are calling me . . . but these folks know my nicknames, my street names,

You all can dress me up, but they can dress me down.

Deplorable housing conditions,

the crack epidemic,

let’s not forget Tuskegee

and all other things systemic

—to which society turned a blind eye. Were you really okay if some folks were to just die? Too soon? In the worst ways? Momas burying babies, leaving communities devastated in a haze and rage.

They know what it means to be treated differently . . . to be qualified, yet disqualified because of lies that they’re not good enough, smart enough, or from the right side of the tracks

But eventually, I knew that they’d call bull**** on that.

This is a new generation.

Empowered by those before them, emboldened by those who know them . . . they march to the beat of “Yaaas Queen” and “Girl, I know what you mean”

They are beneficiaries of the strength, the sacrifices, the wisdom, and internal wealth

The love from each other, the “Girl, encourage yourself.”

The pride, the “always look them in the eyes” when you introduce yourself.

The refrains of “hold your head high” and “go on with your bad self.”

They belong to people who were brought here, bought and sold here, but never broken here.

This group will never be deterred, for they understand that they are the hopes and dreams of generations before

They are the example for those coming behind

They are the light when darkness wanted to swallow their communities whole

They are fierce, determined, brilliant, and bold.

They are warriors trained on the battlefield of inequity, raised by a village of waymakers and caretakers, who always made something out of nothing.

Who let them know that their assets, perhaps while untapped and unmined—were never unrefined. Who reminded them to never be underminded or defined by those who seek to constrain the power that once unleashed would cause a seismic shift . . . and the gifts with which they were endowed would wow others who once stood on the side of the opposition.

Yep, finally, this band, banded together and dealt the final blow. It was them that took me out, I know.

No one was sad to see me go

Well, except those that wanted to maintain the status quo.

As I breathed my last breath, I heard a baby’s cry and the distinct warrior’s voice that I couldn’t deny. She said, “Welcome, little one, it took a lot to get you here. But don’t worry, we will always protect you Equity, my dear.”

Supplemental Material

sj-pdf-1-hpp-10.1177_15248399231210510 – Supplemental material for The Day Disparities Died

Supplemental material, sj-pdf-1-hpp-10.1177_15248399231210510 for The Day Disparities Died by Kyrel L. Buchanan in Health Promotion Practice