My introduction to bias came when my high school counselor told me that I couldn't apply to my school of choice because of their admission "preferences." I've been "in my feelings" about racism and bias in nursing since, primarily because I didn't understand how decisions like this were allowed, and over time I would come to understand their impact. I don't feel anger, jealousy, or resentment. Exhaustion more accurately describes the weight of seeing my nurse colleagues of color endure discrimination and microaggressions; have their credentials, experience, education, and professional commitment questioned; and be required to prove themselves repeatedly because they look different.
Being a nurse of color in this country comes with the psychological impact that results from stereotypes, microaggressions, and/or implicit bias. I must thank the American Nurses Association (ANA) and recognize with appreciation their Racial Reckoning Statement. However, I'm left to ponder, "Why did reckoning take so long?" The ANA acknowledges the long history of racism in this country and in nursing and that nurses of color were eliminated systematically from historical accounts, despite great works and contributions. The literature traces events such as these back to Mary Jane Seacole (1804-1881), a British-Jamaican nurse and businesswoman who applied to the War Office to be among the nursing contingent to Crimea, but her services were refused. Regardless, she continued to provide care to wounded soldiers during the war from a hotel. Some historians consider her to be the first advanced practice nurse because of her approach to treating patients.
I applaud those leaders who contributed to the ANA's statement and had the courage to address this issue publicly. I'd like to believe this is a first step; although reckoning is defined by the Merriam-Webster Dictionary as "a settling of account," this is far from settled.
When I apply the definition to the historical and current practices within organizations, in addition to asking, "Why did it take so long?" I ask, "So what are you going to do now?" I ask this because my heart aches for Mary Seacole and those who came after her who didn't or won't experience a reckoning. My heart aches for nurses of color who are enduring microaggressions in their workplaces. My heart aches for those to whom we must explain the importance of the ANA statement who won't appreciate the positive impact that reckoning could have on patient care, staffing, and recruitment.
Coupled with the heartache, I worry: Even though the ANA has provided this statement and healthcare organizations will write policy statements that express their commitment to diversity, equity, inclusion, and belonging (DEIB), will the practices within the walls change? Will the nurses of color who endure and graduate from nursing programs apply for positions in these organizations only to have their applications set aside even though they're qualified? Will they be interviewed by leaders who look like them or are truly committed to DEIB? I wonder if the great works of highly qualified BIPOC (black, indigenous, and people of color) nurses will be undermined by the desire to protect the legacy of someone who looks like the historical majority of nurses in the organization? I wonder if organizational leaders will ask themselves, "Do I need to take personal accountability for my part in continuing to perpetuate practices that don't support DEIB?"
You see, reckoning is personal; it begins with the person in the mirror. It begins with me and my ability to search all that's within me that may be contributing to systemic racism and bias. With introspection, our actions will match the ANA's intention, sentiment, and commitment. Our collective actions will become the standard of practice. Reckoning will be tangible when individuals within organizations no longer allow nurses of color to be penalized because of their skin color or other differences. These results will demonstrate to nurses of color that true reckoning is action and a proper account for history.