A distinct memory I have from my childhood in Sacramento, California is overhearing my dad taking calls from worried parents. He has been practicing as a general pediatrician for 25 years and answers every call with patience and compassion that I deeply admire.
As I grew older, my father started sharing some of his patients’ stories with me and I began to realize that I also wanted to work in medicine, but that I wanted to focus my career on working with teenagers.
However, as a Black girl growing up wanting to be a doctor, I became aware that I was the personification of my parents’ and communities’ dreams. At church or community events, I’d often hear, “your parents must be so proud.” And, of