I am a nurse-an African American nurse, who experienced and witnessed social injustice my entire life. My daughters, despite my desire to protect them, learned about injustice on one of the most important days in American history: Independence Day.

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It is our custom to pack snacks and carry lawn chairs to watch the July 4th fireworks. Surrounded by throngs of people in our Midwest hometown, we watched the night sky light up in sync to a soundtrack of top 100 music hits played by our local radio station. It was truly spectacular as it is every year. Walking back to the car, everyone was riding high, still singing and dancing from the celebration of unity and victory that Independence Day has come to represent for so many in the US. We fully embrace summer days like this and my girls loved every moment of it.

In the dark among the crowd, a car pulled alongside us. At first, I thought nothing of it. Then I saw it: something was thrown out of a car window and was coming right for us, it hit my girls and covered their clothes and skin. I quickly examined them and they didn't appear to be harmed physically. Their brand new red, white, and blue outfits that they were so proud to wear were now stained purple-brown. I somehow managed to avoid being hit, but that brought no relief.

I have never felt that amount of rage build within me so quickly. But when I looked down, I saw four little eyes staring back at me, full of fear and questions. My young, innocent daughters looked to me for guidance and comfort. How and why could this happen? I thought to myself. It was Independence Day.

My immediate response was to comfort my children and tell them: Love is stronger than hate. My choice that day had a lot to do with two things: the way my parents raised me and my education as a nurse. The stark realization that this phenomenon has lasted for generations haunted me. However, I realized that life events and experiences-all the pain and suffering endured over the years as the result of bias, discrimination, and outright hate-have prepared me to handle a moment like this as a mother of my children.

Call to action

At a slow and steady pace after the July 4th incident, I found my voice. I participated in community initiatives, speaking engagements, and conferences. For organizations, communities, and individuals, a major catalyst for deep change was the death of George Floyd. His unjust death is the spark that lit the world on fire and opened doors for conversations globally. It also launched the opportunity for nurses and health professionals to examine health disparities even deeper. It opened a locked door inside of me as well. It served as a reminder that we are called to the greater. Nurses are called to care for all people, not unlike the choice I had to make in response to the malicious actions toward me and my daughters.1 To make that choice, leaders must be equipped to engage their workforce in conversations that challenge previously held beliefs about race and bias.

Diversity and inclusion are more than a marketing campaign; they are the essence of what it means to be valued, respected, and to be human.2 The promotion of diversity and inclusion is a call to action for nurses to use their voices to advocate for culturally competent care.3

Answering the call

Nurses at every level and from every background have knowledge, skills, and gifts that can be brought forward to teach, empower, and serve. Nursing is a caring profession with a code of ethics that guides its practice.1,4 As such, the call to action is to return to the roots of the profession. An intentional and critical first step to supporting diversity and inclusion is self-reflection.3 Having an increased awareness from understanding one's beliefs, values, attitudes, and practices can facilitate more sensitive, adaptive, collaborative, and inclusive communication.3,5 Additionally, nurse leaders are charged with being equipped to spearhead conversations on diversity and inclusion in their communities, local governments, and schools.

I continue to be grateful that I chose love and not hate that night as I stared into my daughters' eyes. If I made a different choice, I would have sown a seed of hate that could have changed the course of my daughters' lives. I am hopeful for nurses to continue lighting the path to diversity, equity, inclusion, and wellness for our patients, families, and communities. Florence did leave us with a lamp after all.

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