African American Physicians Research Articles

The Violence Epidemic in the African American Community: A Call by the National Medical Association for Comprehensive Reform

While much progress has occurred since the civil rights act of 1964, minorities have continued to suffer disparate and discriminatory access to economic opportunities, education, housing, health care and criminal justice. The latest challenge faced by the physicians and public health providers who serve the African American community is the detrimental, and seemingly insurmountable, causes and effects of violence in impoverished communities of color. According to statistics from the Centers for Disease Control (CDC), the number one killer of black males ages 10–35 is homicide, indicating a higher rate of violence than any other group. Black females are four times more likely to be murdered by a boyfriend or girlfriend than their white counterparts, and although intimate partner violence has declined for both black and white females, black women are still disproportionately killed. In addition, anxiety and depression that can lead to suicide is on the rise among African American adolescents and adults. Through an examination of the role of racism in the perpetuation of the violent environment and an exploration of the effects of gang violence, intimate partner violence/child maltreatment and police use of excessive force, this work attempts to highlight the repercussions of violence in the African American community. The members of the National Medical Association have served the African American community since 1895 and have been advocates for the patients they serve for more than a century. This paper, while not intended to be a comprehensive literature review, has been written to reinforce the need to treat violence as a public health issue, to emphasize the effect of particular forms of violence in the African American community and to advocate for comprehensive policy reforms that can lead to the eradication of this epidemic. The community of African American physicians must play a vital role in the treatment and prevention of violence as well as advocating for our patients, family members and neighbors who suffer from the preventable effects of violence.

Luke Cage and Police Brutality

Back to table of contents Previous article Next article Arts and CultureNo AccessLuke Cage and Police BrutalityJ. Corey Williams, M.A., M.D.J. Corey WilliamsSearch for more papers by this author, M.A., M.D.Published Online:1 Aug 2017https://doi.org/10.1176/appi.ajp-rj.2017.120805AboutSectionsPDF/EPUB ToolsAdd to favoritesDownload CitationsTrack Citations ShareShare onFacebookTwitterLinked InEmail At first glance, you might think the new Netflix series Luke Cage is just another platitudinous superhero drama from Marvel Comics. But, there is something quite different about this hero: the hero is a dark-skinned black man dressed in a black hoodie. A celebration of this kind of image is radical change from the prototypical white male, caped crusaders casted in Marvel’s most recent popular products (i.e., Ant-Man, the Avengers, Captain America, etc.).The cultural and psychological significance of the show lies not just in having a black superhero, but also in the specific superpower of being bulletproof that may strike an emotional cord in the black consciousness. As a show character proclaimed, “There’s something powerful about seeing a black man bulletproof and unafraid.”The show sheds light on several issues: exploitation of black bodies in correctional facilities, misuse of police force on black bodies, and, perhaps more subtly, the experience of living in predominantly black neighborhoods under concentrated police surveillance.As a resident working mostly in urban centers, I regularly hear patients, especially African-American patients, tell me that they are afraid of the police and worry about being a target. The fear is omnipresent and palpable. Perhaps being an African-American physician makes patients more likely to reveal to me these concerns.Because we, as physicians, do not typically inhabit the same neighborhoods and are not subject to the same unjust institutional practices as our poor, urban patients, we may have a difficult time relating to their worries. The socioeconomic discrepancy between the physician and patient may make the physician more likely to distort or misinterpret a patient’s psychological reaction to a very real threat in his or her community. As a colleague once said after a patient described his fear of the police, “The patient may be suffering from delusional paranoia.”As an African American, I too am concerned about being a victim of police brutality. When I drive down the street and see a police cruiser in my rearview mirror, my grip around the steering wheel becomes a little tighter. One misunderstanding, one false move, could result in my untimely death. This hyperawareness is not simply the result of a few minor acts from “bad apple” officers, but from decades of tension and distrust between communities and law enforcement.The narrative of Luke Cage does not offer a logical, cognitive response to the problem of police brutality. Nor does the show offer social or political solutions to racial impropriety of law enforcement. However, it offers a symbolic representation of unapologetic black strength and resilience, which can speak to people in a powerful way. As we work with minority patients, we must be careful as to what we choose to pathologize about their experience, given the tragic victimization of the black community from police brutality and mass incarceration. As the TV show Luke Cage may provide an emotionally evocative narrative, clinical encounters can serve as an emotional outlet if clinicians listen with a non-judgmental ear to these experiences.Dr. Williams is a third-year resident in the Department of Psychiatry, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. FiguresReferencesCited byDetailsCited byViolence in the American Imaginary: Gender, Race, and the Politics of Superheroes13 September 2021 | American Political Science Review, Vol. 116, No. 22017 in ReviewRobert Freedman, M.D., David A. Lewis, M.D., Robert Michels, M.D., Daniel S. Pine, M.D., A. John Rush, M.D., Susan K. Schultz, M.D., Carol A. Tamminga, M.D., Rachel Katz, M.D.1 December 2017 | American Journal of Psychiatry, Vol. 174, No. 12 Volume 12Issue 8 August 01, 2017Pages 12-12 PDF download History Published online 1 August 2017 Published in print 1 August 2017

Race-Conscious Professionalism and African American Representation in Academic Medicine.

African Americans remain substantially less likely than other physicians to hold academic appointments. The roots of these disparities stem from different extrinsic and intrinsic forces that guide career development. Efforts to ameliorate African American underrepresentation in academic medicine have traditionally focused on modifying structural and extrinsic barriers through undergraduate and graduate outreach, diversity and inclusion initiatives at medical schools, and faculty development programs. Although essential, these initiatives fail to confront the unique intrinsic forces that shape career development. America's ignoble history of violence, racism, and exclusion exposes African American physicians to distinct personal pressures and motivations that shape professional development and career goals. This article explores these intrinsic pressures with a focus on their historical roots; reviews evidence of their effect on physician development; and considers the implications of these trends for improving African American representation in academic medicine. The paradigm of "race-conscious professionalism" is used to understand the dual obligation encountered by many minority physicians not only to pursue excellence in their field but also to leverage their professional stature to improve the well-being of their communities. Intrinsic motivations introduced by race-conscious professionalism complicate efforts to increase the representation of minorities in academic medicine. For many African American physicians, a desire to have their work focused on the community will be at odds with traditional paths to professional advancement. Specific policy options are discussed that would leverage race-conscious professionalism as a draw to a career in academic medicine, rather than a force that diverts commitment elsewhere.

Frances Cress Welsing

African American psychiatrist who developed theories on racism and white supremacy Elvert Barnes In 1974 Frances Cress Welsing agreed to a debate with William Shockley on the topic of racial...

The National Medical Association: True North Toward Health Care Equity

his year will mark the 121 anniversary of the founding of the National Medical Association T(NMA) and it is a tremendous honor to be the 116 President of NMA to represent the membership. Reflecting on socialized events that led to the founding of the organization, the NMAwas organized with the mission, vision, and intention to achieve health care equity. The NMA is recognized as the largest and oldest national professional and scientific organization in the United States, representing the interests of more than 30,000 African American physicians and the patients they serve, with nearly 112 affiliated state and local societies throughout the nation. Since its inception in 1895, the NMA has been firmly established in a leadership role in medicine and committed to improving the quality of health among minorities and disadvantaged people through its membership, professional development, community health education, advocacy, research and partnerships with federal agencies and private organizations. Throughout its history the NMA has focused primarily on health issues related to African Americans and medically underserved populations; however, its principles, goals, initiatives andphilosophy encompass all ethnic groups. As conceptualized by Dr. C. V. Roman, NMA founding member andfirst editor of the Journal of theNationalMedical Association in 1908, “Conceived in no spirit of racial exclusiveness, fostering no ethnic antagonism, but born of the exigencies of the American environment, the National Medical Association has for its object the banding together for mutual cooperation and helpfulness, the men and women of African descent who are legally and honorably engaged in the practice of the cognate professions of medicine, surgery, pharmacy and dentistry.” The initial established mission of the NMAwas to advance the art and science of medicine for people of African descent through education, advocacy, and health policy to promote health andwellness, eliminate health disparities, and sustain physician viability.

Academic and Post-Graduate Performance of African American Medical Students by Category of Premed Institution: Historically Black vs. Predominantly White Institutions

African American (AA) physicians are more likely to practice primary care and care for underserved populations than majority physicians, yet remain underrep-resented in medicine. Because Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs) have a legacy of matriculating students with lower standardized test scores, majority medical schools may be reluctant to form pipelines with HBCUs. We compared academic and postgraduate performance of two groups of AA students at The Ohio State University College of Medicine: HBCU versus Predominantly White Institutions (PWI) graduates. We identified 212 AA matriculants between 1992 and 2007. Group 1 (N=39) were HBCU graduates, Group 2 (N=173) were PWI graduates. We compared MCAT scores, medical school, and post-graduate performance. Despite lower average MCAT scores, groups did not differ significantly in terms of graduating, matching into residencies, selecting primary care, or achieving board certification. Majority medical schools should consider forming strong recruitment pipelines with HBCUs.

Medical School Experiences Associated with Change in Implicit Racial Bias Among 3547 Students: A Medical Student CHANGES Study Report.

BACKGROUNDPhysician implicit (unconscious, automatic) bias has been shown to contribute to racial disparities in medical care. The impact of medical education on implicit racial bias is unknown.OBJECTIVETo examine the association between change in student implicit racial bias towards African Americans and student reports on their experiences with 1) formal curricula related to disparities in health and health care, cultural competence, and/or minority health; 2) informal curricula including racial climate and role model behavior; and 3) the amount and favorability of interracial contact during school.DESIGNProspective observational study involving Web-based questionnaires administered during first (2010) and last (2014) semesters of medical school.PARTICIPANTSA total of 3547 students from a stratified random sample of 49 U.S. medical schools.MAIN OUTCOME(S) AND MEASURE(S)Change in implicit racial attitudes as assessed by the Black-White Implicit Association Test administered during the first semester and again during the last semester of medical school.KEY RESULTSIn multivariable modeling, having completed the Black-White Implicit Association Test during medical school remained a statistically significant predictor of decreased implicit racial bias (−5.34, p ≤ 0.001: mixed effects regression with random intercept across schools). Students' self-assessed skills regarding providing care to African American patients had a borderline association with decreased implicit racial bias (−2.18, p = 0.056). Having heard negative comments from attending physicians or residents about African American patients (3.17, p = 0.026) and having had unfavorable vs. very favorable contact with African American physicians (18.79, p = 0.003) were statistically significant predictors of increased implicit racial bias.CONCLUSIONSMedical school experiences in all three domains were independently associated with change in student implicit racial attitudes. These findings are notable given that even small differences in implicit racial attitudes have been shown to affect behavior and that implicit attitudes are developed over a long period of repeated exposure and are difficult to change.

Charles V. Roman and the Spectre of Polygenism in Progressive Era Public Health Research

Author(s): Keel, TD | Abstract: The influence of polygenismover twentieth-century medicine andracial science has been an underdeveloped area of study. During the period referred to by historians as the 'eclipse of Darwinism', assumptions about separate human ancestry often structured debates across the USA over whether racial heredity was responsible for 'innate dispositions' toward certain diseases. This article explores how polygenist carryovers made their way into early twentieth-century medical and public health studies on the links between race and venereal disease during the American social hygiene movement (1910-40). It also recovers the work of the African-American physician, ethicist, and social hygienist, Dr Charles V. Roman, who stressed during this period that the idea of common human ancestry should push public health researchers to think more creatively and critically about the social and environmental factors shaping health outcomes and black susceptibility to sexual diseases.

Mistrust, Misperceptions, and Miscommunication: A Qualitative Study of Preferences About Kidney Transplantation Among African Americans

BackgroundKidney transplantation rates in the United States are lower among African Americans than among whites. Well-documented racial disparities in access to transplantation explain some, but not all, of these differences. Prior survey-based research suggests that African American dialysis patients are less likely than whites to desire transplantation, but little research has focused on an in-depth exploration of preferences about kidney transplantation among African Americans. Thus, the purposes of this study were to explore preferences and to compare patients' expectations about transplantation with actual status on the transplant list. MethodsWe conducted semistructured interviews with 16 African Americans receiving chronic hemodialysis. We analyzed the interviews using the constant comparative method of qualitative analysis. We also reviewed the dialysis center's transplant list. ResultsFour dominant themes emerged: (1) varied desire for transplant; (2) concerns about donor source; (3) barriers to transplantation; and (4) lack of communication with nephrologists and the transplantation team. A thread of mistrust about equity in the transplantation process flowed through themes 2–4. In 7/16 cases, patients' understanding of their transplant listing status was discordant with their actual status. ConclusionsOur study suggests that many African Americans on hemodialysis are interested in kidney transplantation, but that interest is often tempered by concerns about transplantation, including misconceptions about the risks to recipients and donors. Mistrust about equity in the organ allocation process also contributed to ambivalence. The discordance between patients' perceptions of listing status and actual status suggests communication gaps between African American hemodialysis patients and physicians. Clinicians should avoid interpreting ambivalence about transplantation as lack of interest.

P-087 Images of African-American physicians are Absent on Pharmaceutical Company Websites for Biologic Therapy

P-087 Images of African-American physicians are Absent on Pharmaceutical Company Websites for Biologic Therapy

A survey of African American physicians on the health effects of climate change.

The U.S. National Climate Assessment concluded that climate change is harming the health of many Americans and identified people in some communities of color as particularly vulnerable to these effects. In Spring 2014, we surveyed members of the National Medical Association, a society of African American physicians who care for a disproportionate number of African American patients, to determine whether they were seeing the health effects of climate change in their practices; the response rate was 30% (n = 284). Over 86% of respondents indicated that climate change was relevant to direct patient care, and 61% that their own patients were already being harmed by climate change moderately or a great deal. The most commonly reported health effects were injuries from severe storms, floods, and wildfires (88%), increases in severity of chronic disease due to air pollution (88%), and allergic symptoms from prolonged exposure to plants or mold (80%). The majority of survey respondents support medical training, patient and public education regarding the impact of climate change on health, and advocacy by their professional society; nearly all respondents indicated that the US should invest in significant efforts to protect people from the health effects of climate change (88%), and to reduce the potential impacts of climate change (93%). These findings suggest that African American physicians are currently seeing the health impacts of climate change among their patients, and that they support a range of responses by the medical profession, and public policy makers, to prevent further harm.

Medicating Race: Heart Disease and Durable Preoccupations with Difference by Anne Pollock (review)

Reviewed by: Medicating Race: Heart Disease and Durable Preoccupations with Differenceby Anne Pollock Lundy Braun Anne Pollock. Medicating Race: Heart Disease and Durable Preoccupations with Difference. Experimental Futures: Technological Lives, Scientific Arts, Anthropological Voices. Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 2012. ix + 265 pp. Ill. $23.95 (paperbound, 978-0-8223-5344-7), $84.95 (cloth, 978-0-8223-5329-4). Science and technology studies (STS) scholar Anne Pollock’s Medicating Raceuses the lens of “durable preoccupations” to explore the racialization of [End Page 393]different categories of heart disease from the early twentieth century when cardiology emerged as a medical specialty. The book is a useful reminder that the intense and sometimes vitriolic debate over BiDil, a medication for heart failure and the first race-based drug, is but one moment—though a very public one—in a long history of the mobilization of race in cardiology. Drawing on rich and varied sources, including archival materials, scientific articles, interviews, and professional conferences, Pollock extends prior analyses of BiDil to examine the intersection of race with the numerous epistemological debates that characterize the history of heart disease. Why, Pollock asks, has race proved so resilient in the history of heart disease, despite relentless critique? This deeply theorized account tracks “epistemologically eclectical” racial preoccupations as they travel among the social worlds of science, the clinic, and the pharmaceutical industry. Weaving together three main themes—the role of heart disease research in constituting Americanness, the persistence of racial categorization throughout this history, and the social and political dimensions of health disparities activism—Pollock argues that the durability of race in theories of heart disease is a dynamic biosocial process enmeshed in ambiguous and changing classifications of both disease and race and the persistence of unequal access to power, resources, and treatment. As Pollock writes, “Preoccupations with racial differences always exceed the data itself” (p. 19). Beginning with early twentieth-century beliefs about infectious etiologies of heart disease, racial discourses shaped the emergence and professionalization of cardiology in complex ways. So deeply entrenched were ideas of syphilitic heart disease in blacks, for example, that Booker T. Washington’s death from arteriosclerosis in 1915 remained a matter of dispute until the 2000s. For African American physicians committed to providing medical care to their neglected communities, engagement with black heart disease also provided them with access to the modern technologies of scientific medicine, albeit limited. As others have shown with diseases such as tuberculosis and cancer, discourses of modernity, stress, and civilization were central to the whitening of coronary heart disease by midcentury. Particularly fascinating is Pollock’s detailed examination of the complicated relationship between the famed Framingham Heart Study organized in 1948 and the Jackson Heart Study organized in 2000. Framingham researchers constructed their population as both white and normal through changing coding practices, categorizations, computerization, and data analysis, all of which cohered to produce hypertension as a distinct disease category. Modeled on Framingham, the Jackson Heart Study recruited only self-identified blacks, constructing a population that was simultaneously representative and different. Unlike the Framingham investigators, the Jackson investigators incorporated the social dimensions of health disparities, in addition to lifestyle and genetics, into the study design. In chapter 3, Pollock traces the complexity of social processes that produced African American hypertension as a distinctive disease category—and the consequent emergence of the category of African American itself as a risk factor for heart disease. Moving to “durable preoccupations” in contemporary race science in later chapters, Medicating Raceanalyzes the debates about the salt-slavery hypothesis of hypertension, thiazide diuretics, and BiDil. [End Page 394] While arguing throughout the book for careful attention to biology in any constructivist analysis, for this reader Pollock underestimates the consequences of genetic essentialism and market imperatives in medicine. Yet, in making explicit the tensions in democracy embedded in the historical debates over black heart disease, this book provides fresh insight into a key aspect of the dilemma of difference: when and how to use race in contemporary research. Despite at least a decade of careful social and scientific scrutiny, the academic and public debate about race and race science is not, nor can it be, settled as...

A Historical Perspective on Disparities as Context for Our Work Ahead

BAYLOR HEALTH CARE System's laudable accomplishments in promoting care equity and Dr. Joseph Betancourt's analysis in this same issue illustrate how far we have come toward reducing disparities in care-and how far we still must go. For hospitals and health systems, historical context is important here, as the roots of disparities in the US healthcare system run deep and merit consideration as we push forward to improve how we serve society's most vulnerable people.HISTORICAL BACKDROP TO CURRENT EQUITY EFFORTSThat Baylor, a system situated in the once rigidly segregated South, has emerged as a leader in reducing care disparities is particularly noteworthy when we consider the long and troubled history of healthcare for minorities and other vulnerable populations in the United States.As with most aspects of life, medical care in the United States, and especially in the American South, was segregated by race prior to the civil rights era. Across much of the South, and even in northern cities with significant populations of African Americans, a separate system of hospitals served black patients and provided training and practice opportunities for black physicians. African Americans in the South largely received care at only hospitals, and even those requiring emergency care often were turned away by white institutions (Zheng and Zhou 2008).That hospitals for black patients existed at all owes in part to the reaction of African American physicians to the terrible consequences that the lack of hospital care had on sick and injured blacks. Black physicians spearheaded efforts to establish these facilities after the Civil War and through the first half of the twentieth century-from about 40 in 1900 to about 370 by the early 1960s (Zheng and Zhou 2008). But in terms of health outcomes, progress was slow-especially in the South, where hospital care for African Americans was scarce. In Mississippi, for example, black lay midwives delivered more than 80 percent of African American babies well into the 1940s, and overall, the health status of blacks changed little between the slavery era and the start of the Great Depression (Smith 2005).Ultimately, the 1964 Civil Rights Act and the application of its antidiscrimination safeguards to Medicare ended sanctioned separation of races in hospitals. As important were the urban health departments and public hospitals, especially in the North, that stepped in to fill the void of care for blacks and other minorities well before civil rights reforms took hold. The New York City Health Department, for example, worked with the Urban League in 1916 to reduce high infant mortality rates among blacks, lowering deaths from diarrheal and respiratory diseases from 71 and 80, respectively, of every 1,000 black infants to 48 and 50 in one year (Beardsley 1990). Prominent public institutions that in the latter half of the 1900s coalesced into the nation's healthcare safety net trace their beginnings as historically black hospitals-the Civil War-era Freedmen's Hospital in Washington, D.C., which later became Howard University Medical School's teaching hospital, among the first.That legacy of providing access to society's most vulnerable reverberates strongly today among those essential hospitals and health systems committed to keeping their doors open to the uninsured, the underinsured, and other disadvantaged patients. Against the historical backdrop of this nation's profound care inequities, the efforts today of Baylor and other systems like it are all the more remarkable and deserving of recognition.But clearly, we need to do much more, as Betancourt shows us. All hospitals-not just those that historically have championed the cause of the vulnerable-must recognize the urgent need to ensure that all patients receive the highest quality of care possible. More to the point, they need to follow Baylor's lead and emulate the work of the many other essential hospitals that make understanding and meeting the particular needs of minorities a priority. …

Chicago's greatest year, 1893: the White City and the birth of a modern metropolis

In 1893, the 27.5 million visitors to the Chicago World s Fair feasted their eyes on the impressive architecture of the White City, lit at night by thousands of electric lights. In addition to marveling at the revolutionary exhibits, most visitors discovered something else: beyond the fair s 633 acres lay a modern metropolis that rivaled the world s greatest cities. The Columbian Exposition marked Chicago s arrival on the world stage, but even without the splendor of the fair, 1893 would still have been Chicago s greatest year. An almost endless list of achievements took place in Chicago in 1893. Chicago s most important skyscraper was completed in 1893, and Frank Lloyd Wright opened his office in the same year. African American physician and Chicagoan Daniel Hale Williams performed one of the first known open-heart surgeries in 1893. Sears and Roebuck was incorporated, and William Wrigley invented Juicy Fruit gum that year. The Field Museum, the Art Institute of Chicago, and the Museum of Science and Industry all started in 1893. The Cubs new ballpark opened in this year, and an Austro-Hungarian immigrant began selling hot dogs outside the World s Fair grounds. His wares became the famous Chicago hot dog. Cities are not buildings; cities are people, writes author Joseph Gustaitis. Throughout the book, he brings forgotten pioneers back to the forefront of Chicago s history, connecting these important people of 1893 with their effects on the city and its institutions today. The facts in this history of a year range from funny to astounding, showcasing innovators, civic leaders, VIPs, and power brokers who made 1893 Chicago about so much more than the fair.

African american primary care physicians' prostate cancer screening practices.

Prostate cancer is the most common cancer and the second leading cause of cancer death among men in the United States. African American (AA) men have greater prostate cancer burden than other men. Little is known about AA primary care physicians' (PCPs) practices regarding prostate cancer screening. We analyzed data from the 2007-2008 National Survey of Primary Care Physicians' Practices Regarding Prostate Cancer Screening. The current study included 604 AA PCPs. Outcomes assessed were (a) offering screening using the prostate-specific antigen (PSA) test, (b) use of screening discussions to involve patients in the decision to screen, and (c) having a discussion policy to try to talk the patient into getting the screening tests. Most AA PCPs were male (52%), younger than 50 years (61%), and had 21% to 100% AA patients in their practices (74%). The majority (94%) of AA PCPs offered prostate cancer screening using PSA, discussed the tests with their male patients to involve them in the decision to screen (83%), and had a policy to try to talk the patient into getting the screening tests (77%). Multivariate analysis showed that offering screening, use of discussions, and a usual policy to encourage taking the screening tests varied mainly by practice-related factors, including practice type, practice location, and percentage of AA patients in the practice. Data from this study indicate that most AA PCPs reported high proscreening behaviors for all 3 outcomes. Additionally, practice- and screening-related factors may be important when examining AA PCP screening behaviors.

Physician demography and policy implications.

This 28-year retrospective analysis of 1980-2008 U.S. Census data found increases in Ohio's physicians, minority physicians, ages, work hours, and a consistent shortage of physicians in rural underserved areas. Ohio was below the national ratios of physicians per 100,000 people, with less than 6% of physicians in non-metropolitan areas. In 1980, only 13% of physicians were females. By 2008, about 31% of physicians were females. In 1980, less than 21% of physicians were members of an ethnic minority group, and this figure rose to 29% in 2008. The proportion of African American physicians approximately doubled, from less than 3% in 1980 to about 6% in 2008. To ensure the adequate capacity of the future physician workforce, physician demography should approximate the population served. Long-term investment in the rural practice environment is recommended for attracting and retaining rural practice physicians. Increasing the hiring of physician assistants can support the development of an integrated rural primary care workforce.

The Morehouse mystique: becoming a doctor at the nation's newest African American medical school

Morehouse School of Medicine in Atlanta, Georgia, is one of only four predominantly Black medical schools in the United States. Among its illustrious alumni are surgeons general of the United States, medical school presidents, and numerous other highly regarded medical professionals. This book tells the engrossing history of this venerable institution. school was founded just after the civil rights era, when major barriers prevented minorities from receiving adequate health care and Black students were underrepresented in predominantly White medical schools. Morehouse School of Medicine was conceived to address both problems-it was a minority-serving institution educating doctors who would practice in underserved communities. school's history involves political maneuvering, skilled leadership, dedication to training African American physicians, and a mission of primary care in disadvantaged communities. Highlighting such influential leaders as former Health and Human Services Secretary Louis W. Sullivan, The Morehouse Mystique situates the school in the context of the history of medical education for Blacks and race relations throughout the country. book features excerpts from personal interviews with prominent African American doctors as well as with former presidents Jimmy Carter and George H. W. Bush, who reveal how local, state, and national politics shaped the development of Black medical schools in the United States. story of the Morehouse School of Medicine reflects the turbulent time in which it was founded and the lofty goals and accomplishments of a diverse group of African American leaders. Their tireless efforts in creating this eminent Black institution changed the landscape of medical education and the racial and ethnic makeup of physicians and health care professions.

From the Editors’ Desk: Growing Old in America: Lessons From Our Japanese Obaachan

From the Editors’ Desk: Growing Old in America: Lessons From Our Japanese Obaachan

The Life and Work of Dr. Beadie Eugene Conner: An African American Physician in Jim Crow Texas.

[[On a bright, sunny day in late May 1980, commencement exercises were underway at Meharry Medical College in Nashville, Tennessee. More than 250 physicians, dentists, nurses, candidates in health administration, dental hygienists, and medical technicians prepared to receive their certifications from the second-oldest historically black medical school in the country. Wearing a brown gabardine suit, Dr. Beadie Eugene Conner prepared to be called up to the podium along with some former classmates of Meharry’s class of 1930 to receive a plaque commemorating fifty years of public service. As he made his way up to the podium, tears began to well up in his eyes as he thought about his mother who would be so proud of him, his deceased wife, Willie Ruel, their daughter, Georgia, and the many years that had passed since he received his medical degree. The event contributed to the retired doctor’s desire to write an autobiography. Though never completed, rough drafts of the manuscript’s early chapters (along with other existing personal documents) provide an invaluable window into the interesting life of an important African American physician in twentieth-century Texas.1 The Conner family’s emphasis on education started long before Beadie was born. The earliest relatives of Dr. Conner so far identified are William Conner and Rachel Sterling Conner of Blount County, in eastern Tennessee. Family records indicate that William was born a slave in Knox County, Tennessee, sometime in 1814. He had already purchased his freedom by 1843 when he married Rachel Sterling, a woman born in 1829 into a free black family. William and Rachel lived on a Blount County farm through the Civil War years, raising six boys and one girl. Beadie Conner’s father, David Alexander Conner, was the fourth oldest son, born in 1859. After William died in 1866, Rachel moved the family to Louisville (a community in Blount County not to be confused with the city in Kentucky), where she kept house while David and his two youngest brothers attended school. By the late 1870s, the family had relocated to Knoxville before breaking up and going their separate ways. Among David’s siblings, his sister became a schoolteacher, two brothers served as ministers, one brother became a successful mortician, and his youngest brother, George Sherman Conner (destined to become a role model for young Beadie), started out as a teacher in Paris, Texas, before becoming a physician and important community leader in Waco.2 Much had transpired in David Alexander Conner’s life by the time his twin children Beadie and Beatrice were born on July 8, 1902, in Miller County, Arkansas, on a farm along the banks of the Red River. A widower living with six children from his previous marriage, he had met Queen Fowler Newlin, a short, beautiful woman of French and Choctaw extraction while attending a Baptist convention in Hope, Arkansas, in 1900. After a brief correspondence and courtship, the two married in 1901. Queen had five children from her previous marriage, thus Beadie and Beatrice became the youngest additions to a family already containing eleven brothers and sisters...]]

Medical Training in the United States Prior to the Civil War*

Early medical school development in the United States was considerably more robust than is usually appreciated. Most histories include only that portion of medicine known as regular or allopathic medicine. To fully understand developments in the country, it is necessary to include the various medical sects that developed in the country in the early 19th century. It is also important to realize that the impetus for medical school development came not from established academic institutions but from the medical community itself. Medical schools in the United States developed at a time and place that hospitals, as we know them, did not exist. The melding together of the preceptorship (apprenticeship), didactic lectures, demonstrations, and clinical/hospital experience evolved slowly. The move from heroic medicine occurred somewhat reluctantly as in Europe. In the United States, in contrast to the situation in Europe, the majority of medical practitioners were called “doctor.” The development of medicine and medical education is usually discussed as a progression of knowledge. It has been fashionable to ignore the development of the various medical sects. Even within regular medicine, no uniformity of thought existed by this time. The American Medical Association was born of this. Change within a segment of society always reflects, and is reflected by, change in society at large. The rapid increases in geographic area and the huge population growth must be understood. Times changed as the character of the population changed. Perception of gender and freedom were important aspects of this change. A number of prominent African American physicians also emerged.