Last August, my editorial discussed the importance of taking a virtual, if not real, "day by the sea" to relax from the stresses of our daily routines. As I write this on the eve of the July 4th holiday, I can't help but think how much more stressful life has become since last summer.
The health and other societal burdens brought on by the COVID-19 pandemic are far from resolved, and in fact, many cities are seeing spikes in the number of cases and hospitalizations as they reopen public activities. States and cities are crafting policies that vary in their adherence to federal guidelines and, as we know from the images we see in the media, many individuals-including top government officials-are not following the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention's recommended advice on social distancing and masking. For some, astonishingly, to wear or not to wear a mask has become a political issue; for others, wearing one has been rejected out of vanity or ego, instead of accepted as the basic preventive health measure it is, like wearing seat belts or washing hands before handling food. Given the recent increase in public gatherings, this risky behavior does not bode well for the coming months and health officials are warning about another surge of COVID-19 if precautions are not taken. I worry about the strain this will put on hospitals and health care colleagues who are just now returning to a semblance of normalcy.
Massive rallies protesting the death of George Floyd-as well as Breonna Taylor, Rashard Brooks, Ahmaud Arbery, and countless others-have spurred huge marches around the world, harkening back to the civil rights marches of the 1960s. I doubt there are many people who haven't seen the horrific video of Mr. Floyd pleading for his life and dying under the knee of a Minneapolis policeman who was unmoved by witnesses or even by a fellow policeman asking him to let up. A June 10 online editorial in the New England Journal of Medicine called it "a public execution," without due process. It's inarguable that, as the article points out, "police violence, racial inequities in COVID-19, and other forms of structural racism are . . . compounding public health crises" in this country.
In this month's issue, nursing historian Sandra Lewenson and her colleague Ashley Graham-Perel write about the racism experienced by accomplished nursing leader Bernardine Lacey. Through an oral history interview with Lacey, the authors recount instances from her life in which being black subjected her to negative attitudes; derogatory comments; and multiple barriers related to education, securing a job, and advancing in her career. As the authors note,
Including voices like Lacey's in nursing history adds to the body of knowledge about racism in the profession and health care industry-topics that are too often omitted from the historical record and discussions. Knowing what we've chosen to keep records of is the key to broadening history. The voices of black nurse leaders like Lacey don't fit into a white-centric record of the profession and thus bear examination and preservation as we strive for the diversity and inclusion that is so necessary to the health of the population.
As a profession with an obligation to advance the health of all people, nursing must actively address racism by calling it out when we see it; standing up for colleagues who experience it; working to change policies in our educational institutions, organizations, and workplaces; and voting out those who allow it to thrive. Everyone deserves to feel respected, have a job that pays a living wage, and feel safe in their community. As Victor Dzau, president of the National Academy of Medicine, noted in a discussion on COVID-19 in black communities, "There's been too many words and too many statements-we need to take action now."