Diversity Equity Inclusion

In some political circles, these are bad words words that have been banned. Recently, I had a very personal experience when a secure email arrived with a formal complaint accusing me of engaging in discrimination and/or harassment based on race. The student said, “She saw my ethnic name and dark-skinned face and decided that this kid is not serious. . . he’s not going to succeed in this class.”

A pit gnawed in my stomach. Without looking at the name, I knew who the student was. He was furious that I had given him a “B” instead of an “A” a few years earlier. However, there were always several who looked like him in my classes.

The class was healthcare communications taught to pre-health undergrads. Students are smart, diverse ethnicities, and fun to engage. It’s a break from biochem and organic chem and they get a taste of where they are headed. We focus on patient-centered care and spend time examining our biases and the importance of appreciating the culture of our patients, perspective taking and a range of other topics.

I lost sleep as my mind worked overtime on how to respond. It was especially daunting because the student had much in common with many of the Palestinian faculty and students I had and was still working with virtually. And I didn’t want to come across as “I have a black friend so I’m not racist.” I wasn’t perfect, but as I racked my brain, I couldn’t imagine what I’d done or said to garner the accusation.

With the Gaza War, I worried that the political atmosphere on campuses was so heated I might be found guilty just because the university couldn’t afford to file in my favor.

All communication arrived in secure email. First, I communicated with my department supervisor and the dean who oversaw the class. I had a week to reply to the lawyer hired by the university to investigate the accusation.

Thankfully, gmail still had all my emails and the learning platform retained assignments completed by the student. I laid out my recollections point by point: The student preferred to attend the class virtually, which wasn’t really the same since the reverse classroom style meant the time was spent with activities and interacting with classmates. It was nearly impossible to grasp the content on Zoom. Then there were accommodations due to personal issues. There was good documentation of my extensive efforts to help the student catch up. Saying no when the student wanted to do the extra-credit assignment after I had turned in grades. Two students had corroborated his accusations. That felt awful too. One I had hired as a TA the next year. The other I often ran into on campus and had completed several recommendations.

A colleague, who is a great editor, read and made suggestions. I met with the Ombudsman who told me that I could hire a lawyer, some of these investigations could go on for a long time, and some accused just decide to settle. Overwhelmed, I plodded forward.

More lost sleep. Hours and hours later — I wasn’t getting paid for the time I spent crafting the twelve-page document — I turned in my reply along with twenty email attachments, I had made the deadline and was done.

Now I waited.

I was supposed to teach two courses the next semester. What if they deemed me guilty? Would Brown dismiss me? I loved teaching and hated to give up this part of my life—teaching the next generation of health care clinicians to be compassionate.  How would I fill that void in my time. Physician and educator were integral to my identity. Maybe I should throw in the towel and sign up for a low-residency MFA.

I waited. The holidays came and went. My sister died. The new semester began.

The grade reviewers agreed to uphold my “B” grade. I was thankful.

I was invited to the virtual interview. I could have a faculty observer, so I asked the dean who oversaw the course. I pondered how to come across as serious, but not defensive. I answered nearly two hours of questions, sweat dripping down my spine. The lawyer asked if I had any students he might interview. I said I didn’t want to bring students into this. It felt unprofessional. He asked if I had anyone to testify in my behalf. I racked my brain and asked a colleague who I knew from other classes I taught.

I waited. The colleague told me she’d been interviewed and it went pretty quickly.

A friend reminded me that if the dean allowed me to continue to teach the two classes, she must have confidence in me.

I was resigned to pursuing my MFA no matter the outcome.

This week another secure email arrived. I waited an hour before I opened it. The Investigator determined: you are NOT RESPONSIBLE for violating the Policy.

Relief and lessons learned. Nevertheless, I do regret the current administration’s dismissal of DEI. Life and work is much richer when there are a variety of perspectives at the table, in the classroom and in the clinic/hospital room. I am thankful and humbled by this walk on the other side.