(upbeat music)

- [Tseganesh] Looking at
me, you see how I appear

when I enter any space.

A youngish Black
woman with a big smile

and a strong handshake.

What you don't see
is the manifestation

of my inner white man.

Yes, you heard me.

I have an inner white man.

Joe became a part of
my life the first time

I put on a white coat
in medical school.

I had him knock first
before we entered

the exam room, and
had him sit next to me

as I took a patient history.

I channel him often
when I have to explain

no, I'm not the nurse.

Or yes, I have done
this procedure before,

and no, of course I
don't mind if you talk

to another doctor about this.

Medicine is the space
designed to make me feel

alone, uninvited, and
constantly second guessing.

Joe is expert at protecting
me from the questions

about my right to be here.

Joe can pull up a seat
at any of the tables

and be made to feel
welcome, even wanted.

Listen, Joe is not
an internalization
of systemic sexism

and racism that tells me
my worth is only based

on a scale of whiteness,
nor is he a demonization

of the white male narrative.

I know every story is different.

But my Joe, he serves
a dual purpose.

He reminds me of the
systems that I live,

and I work in, and
he is a powerful tool

that I can use to thrive
in those environments.

For example, Joe and I looked
in the mirror this morning.

We made sure that this dress
didn't show too much cleavage

and that it didn't hug
my hips too tightly,

because I want to be
judged on the content

of my words, and not
the shape of my body.

Joe also reminds me to
push back my shoulders

and stand assured that
my words are important,

and my voice is worth hearing.

My inner white man, my
Joe, is my shorthand.

Joe is also my systole.

Systole is the powerful
part of the cardiac cycle.

Systole is this
life-giving force

that drives oxygen
out of the heart

and pushes it
throughout the body.

Systole is loud.

And it often drowns out that
brief silence of diastole.

When I am in spaces of diastole,

I notice that my body relaxes.

I breathe more fully and deeply,

and I feel myself expand
to my fullest expression.

My heart is full, so full,

that I can no longer
accommodate Joe.

I have expanded
beyond the spaces

that require his presence.

Spaces of diastole are sacred.

And I have come to understand
that they are formed

through intention and labor,
and are not happy coincidences.

My spaces of diastole
include my clinic.

I walk in, I am greeted by
nurses and fellow physicians

that reflect my
lived experiences.

My patients are a tapestry
of new and old Americans,

woven together in a neighborhood

that is full of
history and promise.

I work in a space
where my voice, my
story, they are enough.

I work in diastole.

Advocacy is systole, a
powerful forward movement

that seeks to make change
on behalf of others.

In advocacy, just as in life,
systole requires diastole.

If we want the energy,
the perseverance,

and power to seek change,

we need spaces of diastole,

where we can relax
and be filled,

where we can heal, where
we can thrive and perform

at our highest levels.

We need to become
advocates for diastole.