2nd Place Essay 2020
In nearly every culture, it is almost socially acceptable to treat the poor, poorly. The prejudice is so pervasive and normalized that only those who experience poverty truly understand the social judgment and exclusion that comes from overt signs of poverty; for example, using an EBT card (food stamps), living in public housing, or getting care from a clinic for the underserved. When we judge people by the amount of dollars attached to their identity, rich or poor, we distance ourselves from genuine human connection. And as medical professionals, these unchecked biases can distance ourselves – and our treatments – from our patients.
I hide my own experiences with poverty for fear of subtle judgment, and I know I am not the only one. I remember shopping for groceries at night for the shorter lines. I was ashamed of the glancing eyes of others as I flashed my EBT card as payment. Shouldn’t he only be buying healthy food? Why does he own a smartphone or wear nice clothes? Why is he wasting my tax-payer dollars? These kinds of public opinions flourish openly in our social networks and in our conversations to belittle millions of families on welfare.
There is a universal stereotype of a poor person; they are lazy, irresponsible, and unintelligent. Although it may be a self-fulfilling prophecy for some, it is far from the truth. There was a whole year that I lived in a youth shelter – a homeless shelter. During that time, I worked at two minimum wage jobs and enrolled in pre-med college courses. I worked extremely hard to escape the bottom of poverty, and I saw my peers do the same. Yet, I also saw how struggles weighed down their progress: mental illness, disability, isolation, poor role models, poor education, poor social relationships, poor opportunities, and eventually poor belief that they could escape the cycle of poverty. Although we understood our shared hardships, we were still judged and stereotyped by society for using welfare services.
When I entered medical school, I joined a new medical student class with resources and life experiences significantly different from my own socioeconomic background. It was isolating trying to fit in with the other students while also hiding my past experiences with tight finances, food insecurity, and homelessness. Yet somehow it was easy to connect with patients who come from all backgrounds. I felt comfortable talking to the homeless person at
the underserved clinic, reassuring a family after losing their home to a fire, or inspiring sheltered children to become future doctors. Although I didn’t come from socioeconomic privilege, I had an “empathetic privilege” of being underprivileged. I could empathize with my patients and identify unspoken challenges to their health that they were too ashamed to discuss. I didn’t avoid eye contact. I didn’t speak condescendingly. I didn’t ignore their concerns or become frustrated by non-compliance. I took the time to listen to their unique hardships and spoke to them without judgment.
As medical professionals, we learn that socioeconomic status is a major predictor of health. I am proud that many of my peers dedicate their lives to fixing this social injustice. Although most medical students do not have the privilege of being poor, we can still genuinely connect to all our patients, regardless of socioeconomic status. We should check our own biases. We should provide care without judgment. We should listen to our patients’ hardships. In the end, we become more comfortable interacting with all walks of life and our patients benefit with improved health outcomes and greater trust.
