"Show up. Stand up. Speak up."
November 4, 2018
“How many of you remember where you were on July 7, 2016?” The question was asked by Dr. Brian Williams at the 8th Annual JPS Network Trauma Symposium. I raised my hand, and since I was sitting at the front of the room, glanced behind me expecting to see most hands raised, as well. Surprisingly to me, especially since the Symposium was being held in Fort Worth, there were only a few people with their hands raised.
Thursday, July 7, 2016 is the date a lone black gunman opened fire on white police officers in Dallas during a peaceful “Black Lives Matter” march. Five officers were killed that evening, and nine were injured. Seven of the officers were brought to Parkland Hospital where Dr. Williams, Parkland’s only black trauma surgeon, was on duty because he had agreed to switch shifts with another surgeon. Three of the officers died at Parkland. Dr. Williams was speaking at the JPS Trauma Conference to tell attendees about how that evening changed his life.
I remember where I was on the evening on July 7, 2016 because I was in my apartment, but I could have easily been at the march. In fact, I had planned to go, but at the last minute changed my plans because my husband came to Dallas early for the weekend, so I stayed home with him. Although my apartment is 6 blocks from downtown, I didn’t realize what was happening until my mother, who had been watching CNN, called to ask if I was all right? She explained what was happening, and I immediately stepped out on my balcony and looked to the south. I heard no gunshots, no screaming, and no sirens. We switched the television channel to CNN, and that’s when I learned the full details of what had happened. Similar to April 19, 1995 when I watched news of the bombing of the Alfred Murrah Federal Building from my office in Oklahoma City two miles from the bombing site, I had a foreboding sense of deja vu that evening. I watched news coverage of the scene in downtown Dallas and at Parkland, two places I know well and love. I felt sick. That’s what I remember more than my location that evening – I remember how despondent I felt that night and in the days following.
After Dr. Williams asked the audience if they remembered where they were on July 7, he asked them if they remembered July 5 and July 6 of that week. I did. On July 5, Alton Sterling was shot and killed by police in Baton Rouge, and Philando Castile was suffered the same fate on July 6 in Falcon Heights, Minnesota. Both men were black and unarmed. The deaths of Sterling and Castile sparked national outrage and were the impetus of the Dallas march.
After I finally went to sleep that Thursday night, I awoke on Friday with the same feelings of heartache as I had experienced the previous evening. I stumbled through the day until noon when I let staff go home early (most were feeling the same way I was). Like many of my friends, I was angered by the loss of innocent black lives. Don’t get me wrong or read more into this than is there – I have worked with many police officers and respect and support those who have taken an oath to protect and serve. But as a white person, my experiences with law enforcement are vastly different than those of my African American friends. I respect the stories and truth of my black friends, just like I respect my friends in the blue uniforms.
I don’t think violence is the solution to any problem – EVER. I hate that a black man decided to try to compensate for the loss of innocent black lives by killing innocent white police officers. Although Dallas has had a history of racial inequities, I hate the fact that the police shootings happened in a city that I love. I hate that it was perpetrated against the Dallas Police Department and Chief David Brown, a black officer who had risen up through the ranks to become Police Chief. I hate that my friends and colleagues in the Rees-Jones Trauma Department at Parkland had to deal with the horrific aftermath, which included delivering the news to family and friends of the officers who died. And honestly, I hate that many people (including some of my white friends) are apathetic to the injustice of racial bias.
In March 2015, a cell phone video of members of the Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity at the University of Oklahoma (OU) shouting a racist chant went viral. In swift action, then OU President David Boren, a former Oklahoma governor and United States Senator, expelled the two students identified on the video. I have two degrees from OU, was a member of a sorority, but I despise the racist actions displayed on that video. I changed my Facebook cover photo to a slide thanking President Boren for his swift action. In the days following the incident, I saw many posts from my public health friends condemning the actions of the fraternity members and praising my post. But, there were no such posts from most of my “friends” in Oklahoma. The majority ignored the incident altogether; others jumped to the defense of the fraternity members. I was disgusted. My disgust wasn’t because I believe all fraternity members are racists. I don’t. Just like I don’t believe all police officers are. I was in a sorority, and my husband was in a fraternity. I believe the Greek system has a lot to offer. Calling out fraternity members who make racist comments doesn’t mean I think the entire Greek system is bad.
On the Monday following the July 7 shooting in Dallas, Parkland hosted a news conference with the trauma staff. I knew several of the individuals who participated in the news conference; they were my colleagues. But, I did not know Dr. Williams. I have since learned that he was a reluctant participant in that news conference, but I sat mesmerized by his words that day. I listened to him describe a world vastly different from mine. His personal experiences had taught him to fear the people that I had been taught to rely on for help. Yet, when their lives hung in the balance, he fought to save them. And when he couldn’t, he wept.
My life wasn’t changed forever on July 7, 2016 like Dr. Williams’ life was. But, for days and weeks following, I felt deep sadness. In his presentation, Dr. Williams talked about the need to be prepared and stock your resilience toolbox for the times when we will experience emotional upheaval. He talked about the need to have a support system. “You know who your people are,” he said. Fortunately, I do. They are the friends who called in the days following July 7, or the Pulse nightclub massacre that occurred only weeks before the Dallas shootings in June 2016, or the slaughter of 11 people at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh just days ago. They call when the unimaginable happens and details unfold of horrific hate and violence being perpetrated in our country. They call because they know me and inherently understand how I react to these events. They call to check on me.
I also find strength in family. The weekend after the July 7 shootings in Dallas, I found a photo on my cousin-in-law Apryl’s Facebook page. Apryl is biracial. I love my cousin, Lane, but honestly, I think the intelligent quotient in our family went up a few points when he married Apryl and brought this smart, beautiful woman and her handsome son into our family. The photo that Apryl had posted was one that included her parents, siblings, her son, my cousin and his son, and my aunt and uncle. Everyone in the photo was acting wacky and silly. When I saw that photo, my eyes filled with tears and my heart welled with pride and hope. That photo said to me that we are family, regardless of race.
Human rights advocate, Ginetta Sagan, best known for her work with Amnesty International, said, “Silence in the face of injustice is complicity with the oppressor.” It’s not in my nature to sit on the sidelines and allow injustice to continue, and frankly, it bothers me when others remain silent.
There are times when opportunity comes in the wake of tragedy. Following his appearance at the Parkland news conference, Dr. Williams was thrust into the national spotlight and is frequently asked to speak about racism and violence. One year following the Dallas police shootings, Dr. Williams left his job as a trauma surgeon and is now the Medical Director of Parkland’s Community Health Institute, whose mission is to keep Dallas citizens safe and healthy by moving our efforts way upstream to prevent the root causes of health and safety issues. And in a stroke of luck (mine), he is now my boss!
Dr. Williams ended his presentation at the JPS Trauma Conference by saying the words at the beginning of this post, “Show up. Stand up. Speak up.”
I will, Dr. Williams. You can count on me.
