Personal Perspective : Why I’m Going Back to Stanford: ‘I Am Not a Lonely Victim’
For the second time in three months, I have failed to “disappear into the sunset” as expected. Last week, I decided to return to my faculty position at Stanford University School of Medicine. My resignation, in June, from a tenured, full professorship in neurosurgery was partly the result of many episodes of gender insensitivity, which affected my professional life and shocked many across the nation. Those on campus who precipitated my departure had every reason to expect the feminine behavioral response of a quiet and dignified exit.
Media attention and its power determined that such was not to be the case. Since June, I have watched a monolithic institution struggle with internal conflict, with its values, with its image--with its very identity.
Personally, I have been encased within a kaleidoscope of jumbled images ranging from pariah to heroine. When one instigates controversy, one learns about loyalty and friendship. With some, these attributes are intensified many times over; with others, the words require redefinition.
I now know I am not a lonely victim. An amazing outpouring of beautifully crafted, supportive mail has told me that gender and racial insensitivity, sexual harassment and unequal allocation of resources are prevalent across broad educational, institutional and occupational fronts in this country--a country whose ideals are that all have an equal right to the pursuit of happiness and an equal right to pursue those goals that define that happiness for each of us. Many women and many minorities toil, without viable recourse, in environments made hostile by inequality associated with nothing more than the sin of being born female and/or of color.
While a comfort level is gained by knowing the obstacle faced is not unique to one’s situation, it also has been disheartening to realize how pervasive the obstacle is and how minimally effective previous challenges to it have been.
The net result of a trimester of reflection has been a strengthening of my belief that words are often meaningless unless followed by coherent action, and that if Stanford is to remain truly great, its goals of equality and excellence must be converted into reality.
My resignation statement to the Stanford School of Medicine questioned the university’s choice of leadership. If there are superbly qualified candidates for executive positions who can be leaders not only in technical expertise but also in exhibiting admirable human qualities and insisting on a training environment of equality, then Stanford deserves the chance to identify and attract these individuals. Any lack of effort to incorporate these “triple threats” into the ranks of executive leadership guarantees that institutional goals will never be fulfilled.
I expected Stanford to turn a deaf ear to my concerns. But to date, it, too, has defied expectations. The appointment I challenged continues only on an “acting,” rather than a permanent, basis. A search committee, while not activated, has not been disbanded; a variety of internal inquiries on a number of fronts have been initiated.
University colleagues have warned me that time is a formidable weapon that can preclude change, that institutional memory, absent constant reminders, is short. While tranquility and peace after three months of emotional ups and downs would be idyllic, I’m convinced that my presence at the Stanford School of Medicine will serve to maintain momentum.
Because the steps taken by the school have been in the correct direction and because I deeply care about Stanford University and its future, I decided to stay. I hope my presence will serve to remind the decision-makers that Stanford has the opportunity to assume a leadership position in establishing a model for an environment of collegial medical education and training free of the corrosive effects of discriminatory patterns of thinking and behavior.
