Dr. Vivien Thomas

Ahhh, I have a new favorite movie. Something the Lord Made with Mos Def and Alan Rickman. It's the story of a young apprentice who worked alongside Dr. Alfred Blalock, the first surgeon to ever perform heart surgery. Pretty amazing when you consider all the cardiac surgery departments that now exist. Over 1.75 million heart surgeries are performed every year in this country. In 1930 it was accepted to be impossible. But what was so striking for me about the story was not so much the remarkable accomplishments of Dr. Blalock, those speak for themselves.

I am struck by the tale of a man, so humble, intelligent and honorable. Vivien Thomas had a passion--a passion for medicine, scientific discovery, for helping people, and living out his dreams. In spite of the racism, the scrutiny and the oft-times debasing encounters he had at Johns Hopkins University and in the social gatherings of those considered more highly than he, he continued to strive in the way of his passion. The "Dr." salutation was a long time coming, a very long time coming as revealed by the film, but it belongs to him. I admire his wife's loyalty, her ability to see something bigger than herself and to truly believe in her husband, in deed (even if not in the deepest crevices of thought).

The poignant story touched me more deeply than anything I've seen recently. It took me back to the times of the early 20th century, 1930, when ambition and purpose seemed more prevalent among us. After years of subordinacy, we edged our way into an existence of resistance. We knew what we were fighting against--social, moral and intellectual inferiority, degradation, low expectations, and absurd declarations of "insolvency." People like Thomas and his family developed within their families a sense of pride, and purpose. His grandfather's quote was: "I spent too much time showing you gratitude for freedom when I wasn't really free."

To watch how the doctors, especially those other than Blalock, responded to Thomas' mere presence with disdain and disbelief--agh! I shuddered, saying so many times to myself, "I can't watch this; I can't watch this." Yet he pressed on, making contributions to the doctor's work that enabled his work to even exist. So emblematic of how this country--it's greatest feats, its premier status--was and is built on the backs of the people!

I appreciate the doctor's own determination, his boldness, ability to face all that opposition, discouragement and envy, yet still employ Thomas--trust his judgment, and honor his skill, albeit to a very low degree considering his actual talent and skill. Beneath his worth, if you will.

The quote that probably touched me to the very most from that beautiful movie was when Thomas said, "To the world I am invisible. I thought it was different in here [the lab]." I am invisible. To the world I am invisible. I do not matter. I do not show up in pictures. When the camera man comes, I am uninvited. When the commendations go forth, my name is an unwelcome vapor. I am invisible. He contributed so much, provided the guidance, the foundation, the research to all that was being accomplished, yet he was invisible. Appalling.

I am reminded of Langston Hughes' declaration:

I, too, sing America.
I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.

Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed—

I, too, am America.

Bless God. I can't wait to tie this all together for a lesson in my class, with the students who have lost touch with the struggles of the past, who believe the only thing to resist is education, school, family, structure--all those things which proved our greatest strengths throughout history. I remember we read A Lesson Before Dying and the students grew engaged in a way I hadn't seen before. They were excited about their (our) history, and empowered by the strengths of the characters. I look forward to helping that happen again.

community | commited to transformation

It is so beautiful to be a part of a community. Who would have thought when I moved here years ago that I would eventually settle here, develop a family here, and join the community that already existed, much less aid in the process of building another one based on God's love? I just walked up to B-Tech today, checking out the campus in preparation for my return in the fall. Man, I miss that place. When I first went there, it was largely because of the students, wanting to work with them in particular. Now, I'm glad to be going back because of the staff. Our relationships have grown and deepened over these past few years and I'm truly excited about reintegrating myself into the family. Even though just about all the students are ones I don't really know, it'll be great to still have some connection to their families, older siblings, and of course, their teachers.

The overlap that I feel between: our church, our family, the school, BOCA, just all of them together, is so inspiring. I mean, what if every city in America had a network of folks working together to ensure the progress of those with their backs against the wall? What if every urban place you visit had, in spite of its incidences of violence and sub-par educational experiences for youth of color, what if those places had community? A family web that kept folks accountable to one another, that forced them to ask the question, "What am I doing with my life? What am I doing to myself? What am I doing for my family?". What if we were indeed the ones?

I'm confident that the "in spite of" would turn surely turn into "instead of". That the community would trump the forces working against them. That's what we're looking for here in Berkeley. That folks' quality of life will increase, that the statistics that predict their (our) demise would cease to intimidate. And that hope would be restored. In fact, hope is already restored; it is here through the presence of the faithful few who are committed to seeing what others do not (and perhaps cannot). Because of our confidence in the One who is greater than we are, we are able to press on and run this race with vigor. We know that it is merely our endurance that matters most, considering that the race is not given to the swift, nor the strong, but to the one who endures (Solomon, in Eccl. 9.11).

Whether we have the qualifications that traditionally correlate with victory (talents, skills, education, strength), we can rest assured that what ensures our victory is staying in the race, not quitting, not relying on our own apparent strength. These are the best that we can do. Beyond our best exists only God. He will step in, fill every void, complete every missing link, and make every crooked place straight. He is the reason we hope in the unseen.

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. (Heb 11.1)