Racial profiling in London
Mukhtar Ahmed shares an uncomfortable experience
My elective and adventure in Africa began in London. I remember the feeling of excitement and nervousness tying my stomach into a knot; all the new sights, sounds and smells that I was going to experience! For me this was what made medicine so appealing to me. It would be my key to the world. With it I was going to experience life.
When I look back at it now I am a little bit embarrassed to say that my mind was full of the romantic images that tend to go with medicine in the developing world. The western doctor pitching a tent in some remote village and battling alone all the injustice, cruelty and oppression that are so prevalent in that part of the world.
I saw this elective as an opportunity to exercise my inner demons. I wanted to use this journey to reflect and most of all to remind me of all the good that was in medicine. I can honestly say that medical school had at that point nearly crushed whatever passion I once had for the profession. I hated the competitive atmosphere that plagued this course and it was certainly infectious. I hated this culture, and I began to hate myself for being sucked into it.
So with all this on my mind I boarded the tube to Heathrow, which is where I was reminded of all the fear and hatred that dominates our lives in this new century. Being of middle eastern origin and carrying a large backpack was not the most fashionable and desired look in the world. I was challenged by a passenger on the train: “You! where are you from!?.” I looked around the train to make sure that it was me that the gentleman was talking to. I realised that it was, and decided that the best thing to do was to ignore him and hope that he would leave me alone. Again he shouted “where are you from!?” and again I looked round the train this time desperately looking for somebody to smile at me, to see me and have no mistrust in me. However, I found no support I only saw looks of anxiety. At that moment I felt so alone, I wanted to be anywhere but there. I was heartbroken by it. I had packed my back pack that morning with pride, for it contained books that were being donated to my hosts and the tool of my trade, my stethoscope; to me something which represents the good in man. There was nothing sinister in there or in my being.
I began to think “why should I have to explain my presence on the train?” No one else was. So I turned to him and returned the question “where are you from?” hoping that this would then make him aware of the inappropriateness of his questioning and how uncomfortable it was making me feel. I received no reply only the same question again, with more conviction and anger. He was not going to leave me alone and I did not want this to escalate any further. So I found myself having to justify my presence, something I have never had to do before nor ever want to do again.
Thankfully I made it to my station just before mob mentality set in amongst my fellow passengers.
When I look back at it now and describe it to my friends we all are able to laugh at the ridiculousness of the event. I am often asked by them why I didn’t just answer him in the first place just to make him and the fellow passengers feel more at ease, considering the current climate and past events. In all honestly I wish that I hadn’t explained my presence at all. My reasoning for this was that this whole incident was an example of racial profiling. Something I have particular distaste for. I was an Arab with a back pack and therefore suspect.
My biggest grievance with racial profiling isn’t the inconvenience that it causes me. It’s the fact that it destroys trust. I particularly hate the effects that it inevitably has within my own person. I too become less trusting of those around me. I find myself wondering whether or not the people I deal with on a day to day basis are treating me differently due to my ethnic origin. In short it’s a scary and suspicious world for both me and those around me.
Nowhere is trust more important than in the doctor patient relationship. I fear that that too will be placed under strain especially with the war on terror showing no end in sight and the events at Glasgow Airport involving doctors of Arab origin making the situation all the worse. I wonder how long it will be before the fear that greeted me on the train that day finds its way into the wards and consultation room? I find myself dreading questions from patients about my origin. I tell them I’m from Oldham to which they always reply “no no originally?” I eventually cave in and inform them of my roots. I then pause dreading their reaction. However, my anxiety is soon laid to rest with them just nodding and smiling politely at me.
When I reflect on these events and try to look upon it with an objective eye, I begin to realise that I too must trust and learn to bring my guard down a little. I had a negative experience but I must move on and not allow it to affect me any further. I certainly must not allow it to affect my relationship with patients.
The events of September the 11th and all that has followed it have been a shining example of people’s cruelty and ignorance towards one another. Socrates wrote that “the only evil is ignorance,” I feel that this is particularly true when it leads to fear and hatred. I look forward to a time of peace.
Mukhtar Ahmed
Fourth year medical student
University of Newcastle, UK
mukhtar.ahmed@newcastle.ac.uk