Tag Archives: ugly

Here We Go Again

lilywhite

The past few month has seen a lot of talk about racism in the media. Particularly in relation to the Oscars. With it, a lot of eye rolling and people saying they are fed up of black people going on about discrimination and playing the race card. What about the Muslims, the gays, the transgender, the browns, the women, the poor? It is a constant source of irritation and sadness for me when these discussions kick off and people start shouting at each other. My first issue is no one wants to listen. This is why racism and the many other forms of discrimination continue to thrive in our societies. Societies that are ashamed to admit a lack of progress and would rather hide what they consider dirty laundry out of view. As if out of sight is really out of mind. Well, it is humanity’s shame and face it we must. Because if we don’t face it then we won’t ever fix it.

On the Oscar issue: yes, it is inherently racist. Why? Because up until recently, majority (94% according to many internet sources) of those who are eligible to nominate and vote for the winners are white and ¾ of those are men. Human nature, and this is evidence-based, is such that if a selection of talented actors/actresses/directors is presented to a person, the voter will look for common traits to identify with the nominees. The easiest trait to identify: skin colour, gender and other physical attributes. So stands to reason that if 94% are white, they are more likely to nominate and vote for white people. There was a blog by a young black woman who works in the entertainment industry published on mumsnet. The reaction was one that had my gnashing my teeth. Many (white, brown and black) suggested that it was not the correct forum for such a discussion. I was dismayed. If mothers are not the people who need to be educated about the ills of discrimination and who need to be encouraged to socialise their children into seeing beyond colour, then who exactly is going to be the catalyst for change?

mother and child

I cannot for the life of me see which other group yields more influence when it comes to such a fundamental change. As a soon to be mother, I see it as absolutely my job to teach my child to see the inner qualities of every person they interact with and judge them based on their actions and words and not the things over which they have no control over.

queue jump

In Nigeria, there is blatant racism still. The fairer your skin is, the more socially desirable you are in many circles. The more foreign your English accent, the more educated you are perceived to be. Being resident in Europe or America or Asia elevates your self-worth. Doesn’t matter if you do the most menial of jobs abroad or have very little education over there. I was born in Nigeria, left as a teenager and I have now officially spent more of my life outside of Nigeria then in it. I see the discrimination clearly. Sure I am a highly educated and successful professional but most of the strangers I interact with don’t know this. To many it is all superficial. I get asked my opinion on things that are well outside my area of expertise and even when I am confessing to having little knowledge, my opinion carries weight. I get better customer service because of the way I speak. I get less abuse from those who like to abuse their positions of power – the police, road safety, customs and immigration officers. When I go into shops run by foreigners, I watch how they treat ordinary Nigerians with barely disguised rudeness or contempt and how those Nigerians do not complain about it. I speak up sometimes to the surprise of those Nigerians and I get told I am ‘feisty or fiery or outspoken’ with amusement or admiration depending on the age of the Nigerian I am defending. I have been in situations where a non-black person has walked into the place, seen the queue of Nigerians waiting to be served and decided that their time was more valuable that the locals and cut to the front. I wait to see if the officials say anything, rarely will they ask for the person to do the right thing. If nothing is said, I am never afraid to tell the person that there is a queue and we were all in it.

The other manifestation is through skin bleaching. It is so prevalent in Nigeria and indeed many other societies. People, mostly women, spend a lot of money on creams and lotions containing dangerous toxins which ‘whiten’ their skin. Some of the more expensive products do a good job and give them fairer skin that looks natural and healthy. Most do not. It is so ugly to see the patchwork that results from some of these products. You see women prancing around with their face and neck a Caucasian skin tone, their arms brown and their joints black as nature intended. It is so unnatural that it sometimes looks like a comedic caricature. Sadly, for those who do it, they look in the mirror and think they look more beautiful. Heart breaking to me because some of the most superficially beautiful people on the planet are all shades of brown and black. There is nothing more beautiful to me than flawless golden or deeper brown skin. I see photos every day and wonder how those who bleach are unable to see the beauty in brown skin. Of course this is all about superficial beauty. Maybe that is where we fail. We are too preoccupied by the outer image and fail to see the beauty within. I truly believe that for a person to be truly beautiful, their soul, their heart and their mind must have a positive nature. That is why I find beauty in the eyes – a person whose eyes glow with love, happiness, kindness and warmth is a person I naturally gravitate towards.  That is why there is nothing more beautiful to me than a baby (human or other mammals). That luminosity that is unspoilt by life and its many hardships, that bright light.

name spelling

Here in England, racism is everywhere. I have a surname that has 3 syllables. Pronounced exactly as it is written yet many won’t even attempt to pronounce my surname. If I can get my head around Siobhan actually being pronounced as shee-von and Yvonne pronounced as Ee-von, then I do not see how it can be hard to say a name as easy as Ab-dal-lah or Jo-da or Di-ya. Working as a doctor on the wards, I have had patients say to me with surprise ‘you speak good English’ and I turn around and say to them ‘why wouldn’t I? English is one of 3 languages I was brought up speaking’. I overhear staff talking to non-native English speakers (those with foreign accents or limited English) very loudly, as if the issue is with hearing loss. I hear comments about those non-indigenous Brits being ungrateful for asking for what is routinely offered to their white British fellow patients. I see the relief in black and Asian patients when I say that I will be their doctor and I will look after them. I empathise with them even as I feel sad that I make them feel better not because of my medical skills but because of the colour of my skin and how they perceive that I can relate to them better or will treat them with more dignity.

I will never forget the first time I was racially discriminated against. I was in my 3rd year of medical school on my first hospital placement in an inner city English hospital working with a medical team. On the first on-call I did with them (on-call means being responsible for the new patients coming in off the streets as emergencies), I was seeing patients who were then reviewed by the qualified doctors. Of course, there is a triage system so medical students never saw patients who needed urgent care for things like an on-going  stroke, heart attack or acute asthma that needed immediate treatment before information gathering. Anyway, I was allocated an elderly Asian gentleman to see. I walked into the cubicle and introduced myself, clearly explaining that I would see the patient then get one of the doctors on my team to review. The patient did not protest but his 2 sons were affronted. They, in their high-powered suits, did not think it was appropriate for their father to be seen by me. They wanted someone else. I got my registrar and told him what they had said. He, being Asian like them, was angrier than I was. He marched me back to the patient and his family, informed them that I was part of the team and as this was the NHS, they would be seen by the first available medic. Their choice was me or going private. How awkward for me and the patient! They apologised and I got through the consultation. This happened 10 years ago and happens to this day. I applaud my registrar for his stance and anecdotally, it is happening less and less because people like that registrar were calling people out for their attitudes.

random search

I spoke in another post about the attitude the police have when they stop you as a black person. The approach is usually quite different – the black person is more likely to be treated as guilty of some wrong-doing until proven otherwise even where you are the victim reporting a crime whereas the white person is more likely to be treated as innocent until proven otherwise. Same as when you go into a shop, a security man (or woman) is more likely to follow around a non-white person than a white person. Same as ‘random’ extra security stop searches in the airports. Once, I got stopped for a random search twice in 10 minutes in Birmingham International Airport less than 100m apart. I was irritated and the lady was apologetic and wouldn’t meet my eyes. I pointed out to her that her colleague had just stopped me randomly too and in fact he was only a stone’s throw away. What was it she thought would have changed in the distance to her? It is a random search ma’am. Randomly because I am black you mean. She flushed and muttered an apology as I gathered my bags and carried on. Random. Racial profiling is reality.

So whilst I know that majority of white people are not actively racist, just as I know that majority of Muslims are not extremists, it is clear that as a black woman, I have more obstacles to contend with. Life is just that little bit harder because I was born with the colour of my skin. I ask for no special treatment. I just want to be treated the same as my non-black friends are. I want to be treated with respect and given my dues. I want people to judge me for what I have said and done (which I have control over) and not the genetics I have inherited. I want my talents to be recognised for what they are and not the physical package they come with. I want the same rights afforded to me by virtue of being a human being. I want justice. I want acceptance. I want to freedom to be me.

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The Taboo of Domestic Violence

One of the great privileges of being a paediatric doctor is the frontline seat we have on humanity. Of course we only see this great variety of human life and get to share in their stories because the NHS is still at the point of need free. We get to see how the very poor live their lives and also how the more affluent live theirs. Stereotypes abound within medicine and on the whole they ring true but we doctors and other frontline staff are constantly amazed and shocked by the unexpected. Life is certainly unpredictable as a doctor in the NHS. This is one of the reasons why I love the NHS so.

One of the greatest sorrows I have faced is when I come across a mother and or child who is being abused by the man who is supposed to love her and protect her from the rest of the world. One of our babies has been taken into foster care recently because the mother is being abused and has chosen that option for herself and her baby. I wanted to weep (still do) because I cannot imagine the horror that the mother has gone through and must be going through to carry a baby to term, labour to deliver her beautiful baby and then feel she must give that baby up. Heart breaking! In this case, the abuse is on-going and the father of the child not only threatened the mother with further abuse, he has threatened to kill the baby if she takes it home. Isn’t there something we can do for her I hear you ask? Of course there are ways in which we can help her. We have offered her every viable option including the one she has taken: giving up her child for fostering or adoption. She weighed up her options and came to a decision to give up the baby. Some of us are worried this is not a rational decision but unfortunately, within the law as she is an adult without any mental illness to cloud her judgement, we have to accept her decision whether it appears rational or wise or not.

Unfortunately, this case is not unique. In my 4 years of paediatrics, I have seen far too many cases of domestic violence and its many victims. 1 is too many but there have been dozens in my short time in the NHS. Bearing in mind that I have only worked in 7 NHS Hospitals and have seen but a tiny snippet of what is going on out there, this is a massive problem that is rarely talked about. Even within paediatrics and obstetrics where this is a major concern, we only talk about it when we get a case. Then it gets filed in the back of our minds until the next unfortunate case. Today I want to highlight the evil that is domestic violence and in my little way encourage anyone directly or indirectly affected to do something about it. What we need is more awareness and everyone who can do something to do a little bit so we can get some change happening.

As you may know, my mother is a feminist so I have always been aware of domestic violence in its many guises and how ugly it can get. As a young feminist, it was always one of those issues I was passionate about and I even wrote a radio drama aged 14 on the topic which got aired in Lagos in 2000. From a very early age, my mother taught me to have zero tolerance to domestic violence. I have always said that the minute a man raises his hand to hit me, unless it is in retaliation after I hit him first, that relationship is done and dusted. Some of you may think this is extreme but if you knew what I know, you would understand that zero tolerance is the best way to go about snuffing out domestic violence.

In medical school (here in Birmingham), I opted to do a module on Domestic Violence in my 4th year of study. It was a short module but the quality of teaching delivered voluntarily by the staff from the local Women’s Aid was fantastic. It was sobering to realise that the knowledge I had from what was happening in my hometown in Yola was mirrored in Britain. Britain may proclaim how forward thinking it is but just the same with Yola in Nigeria, their response to domestic violence is still inadequate and there is very little actual protection for the victims. Majority of the work is done by the voluntary sector trying to safeguard those who seek for help. By the very nature of this service provision, victims do not have access to help and unfortunately, many will continue to be victims until they end up in intensive care or even worse in early graves.

Here are some facts and statistics from Women’s Aid (http://www.womensaid.org.uk/domestic_violence_topic.asp?section=0001000100220041&sectionTitle=Domestic+violence+%28general%29) by way of introduction:

  • Domestic violence is any incident or pattern of incidents of controlling, coercive or threatening behaviour, violence or abuse between those aged 16 or over who are or have been intimate partners or family members regardless of gender or sexuality. It is not just physical violence. It can be verbal, sexual or neglect. It can be against a partner, a child or an older relative.
  • The vast majority of the victims of domestic violence are women and children, and women are also considerably more likely to experience repeated and severe forms of violence, and sexual abuse.
  • Women may experience domestic violence regardless of ethnicity, religion, class, age, sexuality, disability or lifestyle.  Domestic violence can also occur in a range of relationships including heterosexual, gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender relationships, and also within extended families.
  • The majority of abusers are men, but in other respects, they vary: abusers come from all walks of life, from any ethnic group, religion, class or neighbourhood, and of any age.
  • Abusers choose to behave violently to get what they want and gain control. Their behaviour may originate from a sense of entitlement which is often supported by sexist, racist, homophobic and other discriminatory attitudes.
  • The estimated total cost of domestic violence to society in monetary terms is £23 billion per annum. This figure includes an estimated £3.1 billion as the cost to the state and £1.3 billion as the cost to employers and human suffering cost of £17 billion.
  • The first incident of domestic violence occurred after one year or more for 51% of the women surveyed and between three months and one year for 30%.
  • Amongst a group of pregnant women attending primary care in East London, 15% reported violence during their pregnancy. Nearly 40% reported that violence started whilst they were pregnant, whilst 30% who reported violence during pregnancy also reported they had at some time suffered a miscarriage as a result (Coid, 2000).

The commonest question people who have not been victims ask is ‘why doesn’t she leave?’ To understand the answer, you have to try to understand how they become victims in the first place. The typical victim starts out as a happy vivacious young woman, often pretty with very social personalities. They meet and fall in love with a man who at first glance is perfect. Often these men are older, more experienced who charm the girl with their confidence and assertiveness. Once the young woman/girl is ‘in love’ and moves in with the abuser, he (often he but not always) will begin to isolate the girl from her friends and family. It often starts innocently but becomes more pervasive. Often the man will complain about some character flaw in one friend and systematically will find a way of making her cut ties with majority if not all of her social support network. He will often start with small acts of violence like physical restraint if she wants to go out and he doesn’t approve, seizing her shoes so cannot leave the house or calling her ugly when she dresses in a way that she would normally and in the way he would have previously approved. Then once he starts to isolate her, he will chip away at her confidence and withhold praise so that she begins to modify her behaviour to please him and to get approval. To please him, she often has to isolate herself from her friends and family and cater to his every whim. Despite that, he will find fault with all she does and he will start by criticising her. Eventually, he will physically punish her for not doing what she should. Mentally, because of the slow insidious way of grooming her into becoming a victim, she starts to believe that whenever he abuses her verbally or physically it is because she has failed to do something.

Eventually, she is truly a victim and she stops to see herself as a victim and him as an abuser. She begins to blame herself for everything that befalls her and see him as her saviour. Most will come to believe their abuse is an act of love. What it often takes for her to begin to see her thinking is faulty is either when she ends up in hospital because he has lost control and beaten her so badly that he ‘allows’ her to seek medical help or she has children or other family members she feels responsible for and they get harmed. Even then, these victims will often go back time and time again. Sadly, some will go back one too many time and end up dead. Or their child will end up dead or permanently damaged. Here are some statistics to back that fact:

  • Women are at greatest risk of homicide at the point of separation or after leaving a violent partner. (Lees, 2000)
  • 60% of the women in one study left the abuser because they feared that they would be killed if they stayed. A further 54% of women left the abuser because they said that they could see that the abuse was affecting their children and 25% of the women said that they feared for their children’s lives. (Humphreys & Thiara, 2002).
  • The British Crime Survey found that, while for the majority of women leaving the violent partner stopped the violence, 37% said it did not. 18% of those that had left their partner were further victimised by stalkingand other forms of harassment. 7% who left said that the worst incident of domestic violence took place after they had stopped living with their partner. (Walby & Allen, 2004).
  • 76% of separated women reported suffering post-separation violence (Humphreys & Thiara, 2002). Of these women:

– 76% were subjected to continued verbal and emotional abuse.

– 41% were subjected to serious threats towards themselves or their children.

– 23% were subjected to physical violence.

– 6% were subjected to sexual violence.

– 36% stated that this violence was ongoing.

Lest I forget, I will mention the even more invisible group: male victims of domestic violence. I was heartened to see a poster the other day in a public toilet (female) offering male victims some help. This is just as important because we know that many perpetrators of (domestic) violence were once victims their selves. The man might be the victim in some cases. Learn to expect the unexpected.

So what do I suggest? For anyone who reads this, please share so that we can raise some awareness. If you suspect anyone you know might be a victim, please talk to them and point them towards the Women’s Aid website for help. Do not allow your friend or sister or mother to isolate herself. If you feel you are being pushed away and this is out of character for your friend, please persevere and remain friends with them even if it is only from a distance. Do not cut all ties as you may be tempted to do. Lastly, be watchful. Personally and for everyone you love. If you suspect something is amiss, draw them closer and be there so that if they need help, you might be that link that keeps them real and potentially saves their lives. If you are with a partner who is exhibiting some of the behaviours above, talk to someone you trust about it and ask for help. This help could come from Women’s Aid or even a trusted friend. If you are in a place where Women’s Aid or similar do not exist, turn to friends and family and seek for help early. No man is worth losing your dignity, sanity, health or life for.

What’s in a Bouquet?

Nothing gives me the pleasure a nice bouquet of flowers gives me. One of my dearest friends came to see my new home after the wedding and brought along her nice boyfriend to dinner. He came bearing flowers and I could not hide it. I was smitten. He is now the lovely boyfriend, upgraded from ‘nice’.

All flowers and come to think of it, portable plants have that effect on me. They upgrade a person. Maybe it is because a person who appreciates a bit of nature automatically appeals to my inner green goddess. Or maybe it is because they are so beautiful that they appeal to my love of beauty. I am a big fan of beauty in so many ways my husband gets confused. I will digress, as you know I am prone to, but I do find beauty in unusual places and features. My own mama is still grappling with the concept of ugly cute which my sister totally gets. Think the Grinch which I find irresistibly cute down to his pointy paunch. Lol.

Back to the flowers now, I think I also love them because I know they and their leaves more importantly are tirelessly hovering up all the CO2 I am producing and providing me with fresh oxygen to breath. Some of them are also emitting the most gorgeous natural fragrance to turn an ordinary room into an oasis. So when I get a bunch of flowers, it goes beyond the thought for me. It is a gift of love, of happiness, of health, of beauty, of fragrance and of generally amazingness. Never does a £10 gift generate so much appreciation and gratitude. Love love love.

Brummie Beautiful

Before I became a Brummie, I lived in London. My oldest friends in the UK mostly live in London and most thought I would be back to London first chance I got after uni. I had other ideas. When I applied to study at the University of Birmingham, my top reason was not how well the University did in the overall league tables (it is one of the top ones) or the style of teaching at their Medical School (systems-based learning with early clinical contact which suited me perfectly) or even the extra-curricular opportunities available (our uni loves sports and music). I just knew that the Midlands was the place my heart felt the strongest pull towards.

I first visited the Midlands a year after moving to the UK when we went to Nottingham to visit an old classmate of my mama who happens to be a GP whose son was at the Medical School in Birmingham. I loved the idea of the Midlands, ironically it brought to mind Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings which is based around Birmingham and the West Midlands but I didn’t know that then. There was something about the calmer pace of life that I was immediately drawn to and the open spaces and clean air in Nottingham. My London stresses simply fell away and yet it felt like there was enough to do for me here. The best way I can describe how I felt is that my pulse matched the pulse of the Midlands.

Knowing how I felt about the Midlands and having spoken to the medical student son of the GP friend of my mama’s, I knew that my 2 certain UCAS application spots for medical school would be Nottingham and Birmingham. I ended up applying for a spot in Imperial College and Kings College (both to match my Queens College pedigree). I persuaded my mother to accompany me to the Open Day at the University of Birmingham and my top choice became Birmingham. I loved it all. From New Street Station which to be honest wasn’t all that (although we are awaiting our new state-of-the-art concourse and generally more beautiful station which is being worked on as I write). To the pace of the life – there was enough bustle for me not to be bored bearing in mind my Lagos and London background. To the mix of people – black, brown, white and many shades in between of all shapes and sizes and how happy majority of people seemed to be as they rushed around shopping and working. And finally the beautiful grounds of the University of Birmingham which impressed me from the moment I stepped out of University station and cast my eyes on the Iron Man on the little roundabout leading to the main University Campus.

The longer I have lived in Birmingham, the more in love I have fallen with it. People are scornful of the ‘accent’. Err, the accent y’all think is Brummie is actually Black Country and majority of people in Birmingham City do not sound anything like that! And I don’t even mind the black country brogue despite the fact that when those people speak to me, I have to focus really hard and find myself staring at their lips as if I can lip-read. The other common misconception is that it is all warehouses and dirty ugly buildings which I am sure are a stereotype from the war days. Well, you should see Birmingham now. We have lovely centuries-old cathedral and buildings, many right in the centre of town. We have a beautiful open market on weekdays behind the Bullring and the Rag Markets which are closed also behind the Bullring. I cannot not mention the Bullring because it is now a major family attraction for all its shopping and food court. Also the Mailbox which is glamorous sister of the Bullring with its more expensive designer shops and trendier restaurants, bars and clubs. There is the Arcadian with all of its entertainment by night and dining facilities by day. Our China/Oriental town is thriving right next to the Arcadian with Chinese supermarkets and many restaurants to choose from.

The Jewellery Quarter is simply the place to be if you are looking for a great deal on diamonds and precious metals. If you take your time browsing, you will find jewellery shops with beautiful antique one-off pieces like the pearl bracelet I wore on my wedding day. There are also jewellers there who will for a fee design unique pieces for you or use an old stone to design a new piece or re-structure an old necklace or bracelet to suit you. I lived in the JQ so you could say I am partial but it is a lovely place to live with lots of flats perfect for single young professionals or newly cohabiting partners who are yet to start having a family. The cemetery is a peaceful place to hang out…it is a proper old-school one with large tombstones and in many spots, whole families laid to rest together over the years. For the year I lived there, I would walk through the cemetery every morning and evening and say a prayer for those whose bodies were laid there and I would wonder about their stories and smile at the fresh flowers placed at gravesides.

The biggest thing for me though is the people of Birmingham. Of course we have our EDL-racists, our illiterate chavs, our stinky tramps and our gangs which are not the best but which large city doesn’t have them? As the second largest city in the UK, we have our fair share of the not-so-desirables but you have to look deeper than that. We are a melting pot of all the races of the world. The ‘minorities’ here are not minorities. We have large communities of Indians, Pakistanis, Chinese, Jamaican, Nigerian, Ethiopian, Polish and Iranians. You name it, we have got them in fair numbers in Brum. With all these groups comes the variety of music and food on our streets. We have festivals to cater for all the different groups. We celebrate Eid and Diwali with as much gusto as Christmas. We have plays celebrating all the different cultures. The highlight for me, we have children that are more mixed than in any place I have lived. We have the unlikeliest of mixes…black and Chinese, black and Indian, Pakistani and English, Spanish and Turkish, even Nigerian and Polish. As a paediatrician, it is a privilege for me to get an insight into these families and appreciate the diversity of my home. Simply put, they say home is where the heart is. For me, Birmingham is where my heart is.