Safe

I thought with this coat, I could be safe.

A shield from spears that aim to pierce me and my race.

I thought with scrubs, I could be respected.

So my pigmentation could not threaten.

I thought with doctors, I could be equal.

Learning and training to help other people.

I put on my scrubs, my coat, and I smirked at the mirror.

My hard work reflected – the future seems clearer.

I walk into the office, confident in stride.

I saw the old attending, and I said, “Hi”.

He replied, “With your coat and scrubs, you look like a mechanic.”

Nervous laughter emits from internal panic.

No matter how much I shield, blend, or beg for respect,

They’ll still hang me by the stethoscope on my neck.

Brett Mitchell; Drexel University College of Medicine