This semester I have been so privileged to hear the words of amazing history-makers on my own campus. I walked for seven minutes and heard Dr. John Carlos, one of the fist-raising Olympians from 1968, tell men to be the thorns that protect their roses, their women, just after he described how afraid he was that he would lose his life for what he chose to do in the year of the Mexico City massacre. How what he did affected his ability to get work. How it took years for his actions and those who sacrificed with him to be publicly accepted, commemorated.
I walked for eight minutes and heard Dr. Evelynn Hammonds, dean of Harvard College, talk about the systemic marginalization of women, especially women of color, in STEM fields (science, technology, engineering, and math), and what that really even means. From being left out of study groups to being spoken to condescendingly, these experiences add up over time and create contexts that subtly, and often unintentionally, leave women of color - and everyone - further and further behind. Dr. Hammonds called for uncovering and breaking down the "built-in hierarchies in science that are deeply embedded and difficult for researchers to analyze." She asked that we make the "invisible system of mentoring that works for some people a visible system of mentoring that works for everybody." I became just a little more grateful for my advisor and mentors.
How to build a system that works for everyone? Through shared commitment. Dr. Hammonds told a story about her work with lasers, in which she
wasn't always successful, and how she had almost nothing in common with her mentor except for her fascination with this laser. That is what connected them. "The ground that we share is a commitment to the world, a commitment to the science. The laser became the object through which we could communicate. We have a commitment to the production of knowledge. It's the knowledge that has to become the vehicle. ... Mentoring across race - gender - sexuality - is fine. We have to be committed to the work."
But that's not why I might be in the Diamondback. Today I walked for - well, you get the point - to hear the son of Henrietta Lacks speak about the
2011 UM First Year Book,
The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, by Rebecca Skloot. "Sonny" Lacks and several other family members came to campus, and Sonny spoke with Professors Lee Thornton and Stephen D. Thomas about his family's experiences. Just like in the book, Sonny emphasized repeatedly how the contribution his mother's cells made to science and healing superseded his own wishes that his family had been treated better. He answered my initial question spontaneously, whether he and the rest of the family now have access to health care as a result of this book. No.
And then I got a chance to get on the microphone and ask whether the playing field is being leveled so that people can profit from their own cells the way corporations have been allowed to. Historically, if I understand correctly, people have been hindered from patenting their own cells because of the fear that they would try to charge exorbitant amounts of money from researchers, thus hindering scientific progress, but now corporations can do this exact thing. My heart was beating so fast, but then I was overwhelmed by the fact that I was getting to ask questions of the people that, as I read, I was wishing I could meet someday and ask questions! The people that I swore looked so familiar - like some of my own family - when I found the pictures in the middle of the book.
As I waited at the mic, I snapped some blurry pictures of the standing-room-only crowd in the Hoff, and then Dr. Thornton acknowledged me. I rambled only a little, saying my first name, thanking the family for coming, and then asking my question. Dr. Thomas responded, saying that conversations like the one we were having would be necessary to increase literacy of the laws and awareness of the inequalities that exist in our current biomedical and legal systems.
The last woman to speak - who happens to be in the picture above in the white jacket - simply cried and thanked the family, Henrietta especially, because in a way it allowed her to thank her own mother. Dr. Thornton acknowledged her and said that she knew of the similarity in this woman's story. The feeling of connectedness was potent. Sonny kept telling how grateful he was that his family's story was being shared by "young beautiful peoples like yourself." I hope that the sight of us encouraged him the way he encouraged us. The way he encouraged the woman who cried, coming off the stage to give her a hug.
I was a little late with getting the hug... As we were dismissed, I heard a girl behind me saying, "Excuse me." I thought she was talking to someone else, but she came up to me and introduced herself. She was reporting for the Diamondback and wanted to ask me about my question. This time I really did ramble (I know, Dr. Carter, I know - sound bites). I described my question, why I was interested in the family's story, why the book was fascinating, what made me start reading it. Who knows what that article is going to say, probably something like, "Disturbed graduate student thinks she's Henrietta Lacks' distant cousin."
On the way out, I was able to thank some of the family for coming, including Zakariyya Rahman, who didn't look at me. I saw his hearing aid and wondered if he heard me, but having read the book, I doubt he would have acknowledged me anyway. I smiled.
I overheard some students talking and told them where they can find the Undergraduate Studies office to get the book, how to get to Marie Mount hall. As we walked, we discussed the likelihood that our own cells have been used for research, whether blood that we donate could be used for research and profit. The conversation continues.
I walked to the library, where I am now. On the way, just in front of McKeldin, I saw Zakariyya and Ms. (Courtney?) Speed walking, unrecognized. Zakariyya carried the framed poster of Henrietta that Dr. Lisa Kiely, assistant dean for Undergraduate Studies, had presented to Sonny on the stage moments before. I snapped another picture of the two among the students not far from Testudo, in front of my library, on my campus.
I might not understand the reasons why the woman in the audience cried, but I understand now the overwhelming feeling of being connected to a common history. Of being able to meet people whose stories I may not even have read - I didn't know about Dr. Hammonds before seeing the announcement of her talk, and I hadn't read much about Dr. Carlos - and realizing what a shame it would have been had I walked past them one day and known nothing about who they are, what they have done, the awareness they have awakened. How many others have I passed whose stories - written and unwritten - would change my life? I am grateful to be inspired in this moment, at this university, with these amazing people who write, invite, advise, mentor, research, and connect. These people with a shared commitment.
Did someone page Dr. Alexis Williams?
This quote was on a card I received yesterday: “I find the great thing in this world is not so much where we stand, as in what direction we are moving: To reach the port of heaven, we must sail sometimes with the wind and sometimes against it, but we must sail, and not drift, nor lie at anchor.” – Oliver Wendell Holmes
So the important thing now is to keep moving. I will make sure to celebrate this day that I have dreamed of, feverishly-longingly-sometimes even hopelessly, but I will also keep moving because the journey is the goal. If the degree itself were the goal, we’d all just die at the end. Thank God I am here and I am still alive to do more each day!
Dr. Alexis Williams
#TeamWeDidItAndAreStillDoingIt