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- 5 - accessHealthNews.net December 2023 Volume 10 | Issue No. 79 I dared not correct my elders, though my knees buckled at certain constructions, to say nothing of the contra- dictions. We didn't answer "sir" to teenagers, so why did grandma answer "sir" to a white teenager? My push for justness in conversation earned me a few beatings and some alienation, and cost me a new pair of shoes. Still, my abstinence persisted, not so much as an act of rebel- lion, but as an outcry for clarity in a confused young life knocked topsy-turvy by race. More specifically, I balked unknowingly at this early parental pressure to get me converted, born again, and socialized into a state of in- feriority—to be made a Negro. (Journalist and author Les Brown, "The Night I Stopped Being a Negro") By the 1970s the word Negro had become just as social- ly unacceptable to [Black] people as the images that depicted brutalized water-hosed bodies, terrorized by racialized canines and police batons. There was a new energy. Black people shone like dia- monds – with blowouts, Afro puffs, bell bottoms, and a rhythmic cadence that evoked a revolution that was indeed televised, called Soul Train. Edified by ancestors and predecessors who paid the price for them to take up the mantle, they lifted every voice and sang a new song called, "Black is Beautiful," all the while chords from Marvin Gaye's "What's Going On" both pierced the soul and woke the unconscious. The signs of the times were beyond palpable. In 1971, the average cost of gas was 36 cents a gallon and a dozen eggs a mere 53 cents. Today, those costs have increased by more than 100 times, but what has remained con- sistent are the economic, social, and medical injustices that continue to be fought downstream – if at all. Social determinants of health that led to preventable chronic disease for things like hypertension and diabetes have made little strides nationally over the past 52 years, while the maternal mortality rate for Missouri Medicaid-insured, Black birthing people continues to escalate at a rate 8 times higher than white privately-insured birthing people. A New Thing Something else happened in 1971. It was the year the University of Missouri-Kansas City School of Medicine started its medical program, led by Provost E. Grey Di- mond, M.D. and Dean Richardson Noback, M.D. Out of the gate, Dean Noback required that 10% of the inau- gural class represent minoritized people. He wanted the program's student body to represent the community it would serve. Michael Weaver, M.D., President and CEO of Kansas City-based Mission Vision Project (MVPKC), was one of four African American students accepted into UMKC's inaugural medical school class of 40 and would be the first African American person to graduate from the program's inaugural class. Dr. Weaver grew up in Kansas City near 27th and Pros- pect. He was the product of two parents who were both educators in the Kansas City Public School system. Thanks to early exposure to the health professions through a Medical Explorers Post at Research Hospital, Dr. Weaver solidified his interest in medicine. Medical racism abounded even before legalized segre- gation that created systemic medical injustices for Black and Brown people. This has resulted in a stagnation of the number of Black physicians to a meager 4% increase over the last 120 years, according to a UCLA study. Simply stated, the number of Black physicians has re- mained the same since 1940. Today, Black people make up roughly 13% of the U.S. population, but only 5% of all practicing physicians according to Fortune. READ MORE It's no secret that Black and Brown patients are less likely to receive adequate cancer screening or even organ transplants. Oftentimes this is due to physician bias and health care reimbursement structures that offer financial disincentives for caring for people of color.

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