Dr. Medlock's Powerful MLK Day Remarks Cite Enduring a Public Act of Racism

Dr. Medlock took the stage with a commanding presence, beginning her remarks at Valparaiso University’s MLK Day Celebration with a profound act of truth-telling. "If you know anything about my career in public service," she began, "then you know that recently I endured a public act of racism. So what I am sharing with you today is not a sanitized call to action about how to overcome. It is, in fact, the real wrestling of a human being with her own suffering and her resilience."

In a moment that resonated deeply, she reminded us, "Let us remember that unearned suffering is redemptive." Dr. Medlock bravely declared, "I am colonially underserved. I am institutionally underserved, but I am historically resilient."

However, her words went beyond personal experiences sharing "Our suffering is redemptive", and urging us to consider a broader perspective. "Ultimately, there is a need to advocate beyond the level of the individual and to address the systemic and robust forms of racism that we must still contend with." Drawing an analogy, she stated, "When a flower doesn't bloom, you fix the environment in which it grows, not the flower."

Carrying these beliefs into her various roles in public service, Dr. Medlock emphasized fundamental principles. "I believe that government ought to be about people, that systems ought to serve people, and that public servants ought to tell the truth." She passionately expressed, "Equity is not just naming root causes of injustices. It is allocating resources to support the desired outcomes."

She called for a shift from short-term fixes to generational solutions. "Our communities deserve generational solutions, not just election cycle talking points," she asserted. Dr. Medlock challenged the status quo, stating, "The seat of government ought not be controlled by those just seeking to maintain power, but it must be shared with persons with lived experience."

In her closing words, Dr. Medlock left an indelible mark, calling for a genuine commitment to change, equality, and justice. Her powerful remarks catalyze reflection and action, inspiring us all to be advocates for lasting transformation.

Here is the complete transcript of Dr. Medlock’s MLK Day Convocation Address at Valparaiso University:

Can we just give another hand of gratitude for everyone who made today possible? Can we just thank them as such an honor to be here? I want to thank the president of this great institution, Dr. Padilla. Thank you for having me. I want to thank Dr. Vidal Rodriguez and her leadership of the Office of Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion. I want to thank Dr. Karen Allen, Dean of Nursing as well. For this invitation, I want to also honor those who were awarded today for their commitment to this work of building a beloved community. I want to honor the students who spoke today. Thank you for challenging us

And I want to thank all of you for being here today. Faculty, students, and guests, thank you for sharing In this moment of time and truth, I've been asked to reflect as a psychiatrist today on the theme of realizing the dream through healing and resilience. If you know anything about my career in public service, then you know that recently I endured a public act of racism, and so what I am sharing with you today is not a sanitized call to action about how to overcome. It is in fact the real wrestling of a human being with her own suffering and her resilience.

Resilience is a response to a system that continues to evolve in the ways it harms and excludes. This system impacts stress and the threat of stress. It impacts socioeconomic status and opportunities. It impacts societal resources. It impacts the transmission of knowledge through our communities and of all the root causes operating within this system. Racism is one of the most powerful forces that we must contend with. Racism has been defined as a system of structuring opportunity and assigning value based on the social interpretation of how someone looks, which is what we call race. We understand that race is not a biological construct. It's a social one, and racism operates on three levels, institutional, interpersonal, and internal levels. As we cope with this idea of resilience, we understand that institutional racism refers to differential access to the good services and opportunities of society by this thing we call race.

Interpersonal racism often refers to the differential assumptions about the abilities, motives, and intentions of others by race, and internal racism is often conceptualized as acceptance by members of a stigmatized or oppressed race of negative messages about their own abilities and intrinsic worth. So if we are to realize the dream through healing and resilience, we have to ask ourselves today, how do we reclaim our personhood and power in the face of a system that continues to harm and exclude the field of psychiatry and mental health, when at its best can support those who have been battered and bruised by systemic forces to rally their innermost strength and declare, I belong. I can succeed. I have a future.

Yet, as a Black woman and a seeker of equity, it's not always easy to identify as a psychiatrist because it is also the field of psychiatrists of psychiatry that has fanned the flames of white supremacist ideas in America and abroad. Just a few examples, Dr. Benjamin Rush was a signer of the Declaration of Independence. He was also the father of American psychiatry and it was his pen that created the idea that Black people suffered from a form of leprosy that could only be cured by becoming white. In the 1840s, the US census claimed that enslaved Black people were free of mental illness. This suggested that the act of enslaving Black people, in other words, was a process of making sure that they did not become mentally ill and to support this racist propaganda. It was psychiatrists and psychiatric professionals who manufactured data suggesting that insanity rates increased in relation to a Black person's proximity to the North. In other words, that the process of breaking free and seeking freedom made them insane.

It was Dr. James McCune Smith, the first Black physician to earn a medical degree at the University of Glasgow in Europe, who challenged these notions and said that freedom does not make us mad. It has in fact strengthened our minds by throwing us up on our own resources, and so it is that the bedrock of scientific racism in this country was greatly influenced by individuals who share my professional identity and given this legacy, I knew that being a healer to People of Color would be a challenge. I knew that in order to be a truth-telling psychiatrist, an equitable psychiatrist, a just psychiatrist, a Black psychiatrist, that I had to develop a different ethos, a different conscience.

I entered the field of psychiatry at a time when Black people were still being viewed through a lens of illness and inferiority, a time when Black men in particular were being overdiagnosed with schizophrenia. A time when Black people were still struggling under the weight of an unjust criminal legal system, a time when even those who were lucky enough to access treatment were then often met with forceful treatment approaches. I decided that I wanted to become something different, an advocate, a community organizer, a minister. I could not bear to walk into a psychiatric meeting room and settle for handing out diagnoses and illness labels. I had to see beyond the four walls of the literal and figurative white spaces in which I dwell. Around that time, I began to study the writings of Dr. Chester Pierce. Dr. Pierce was a prolific Black psychiatrist at Harvard in the 1960s.

For reference, he is the originator of the term microaggressions. His views on racism predated our current understanding of racism as a public health crisis. A truth made obvious during the COVID-19 pandemic, Dr. Pierce wrote in 1970, these are his words. He says racism in the United States is a public health illness. Since everyone is involved in this delusion, then by definition it is a public health problem. The extent of the public health involvement is judged in terms of other definitions of a public health illness. In the classical mode of such illnesses, he says racism besides affecting masses of population, also defies therapy on a one-to-one basis produces chronic sustained disability, which costs large sums of money to eradicate, and he says it is also contagious.

While I studied at the same institution, I drew lessons from his writings, which were also a grappling with identity. He talked about this notion that as a steward of health for marginalized populations, the therapist must concern herself with not just being a therapist to the individual, but to a community. He talks about being a street therapist. He saw resilience as something that went beyond the individual to the community level. He said that to deal with root causes, we had to deal with neighborhood conditions and economic injustice and issues of democracy and representation to really move the needle for People of Color. In 1970, he wrote that street therapists may not be holders of high academic degrees. He writes that the role of the street therapist would be to conduct supportive relationship treatment, especially for key individuals in the ghetto, as well as to help poor citizens change institutional processes which work to damage their emotions. He writes that the street therapist will be at home in neighborhood meetings, in bars, and in barbershops and playgrounds. He will become a consultant to the ever-growing efforts of the poor to organize themselves, to articulate their wants, to negotiate their demands. And as I read this idea and this notion of the street therapist, I was suddenly inspired, inspired to deal with what Dr. Kamara Jones calls the garden of inequity.

In her seminal work, the Gardener's Tale, she talks about the fact that in this world there are flowers that bloom and flowers that wither. It is natural for us as observers to blame the flowers that bloom and to praise the flowers that wither. She calls us to instead pay attention to the seed sown by racism. The problem she writes in the soil must be dealt with thee the rocky conditions that destroy the roots of the flower that eventually withers. She also calls us to hold the gardener accountable. She writes he must be forced to support the flower that withers and held accountable for his actions in watering only the flowers that bloom in one of the most unmistakable statements. In her book, she writes, in the United States, the gardener is our government. As the story illustrates, there is a particular danger when this gardener is not concerned with equity. How can we get the gardener to own the whole garden and not be satisfied when only some flowers thrive?

And so as I internalized the works of Dr. Pierce and Dr. Kamara Jones, I realized that there are two great issues to be dealt with. The apathy of the Gardner and the empathy of the prosperous WEB Du Bois stated in 1899 that the most difficult social problem in the matter of Negro health is the peculiar attitude of the nation toward the wellbeing of this race. There have been few other cases in the history of civilized people where human suffering has been viewed with such indifference the young age, I did my best to contribute to creating conditions for change and inviting others to join us. In bridging the empathy gap, my colleagues and I produced a book entitled Racism and Psychiatry, Contemporary Issues and Interventions. I get no royalties from this mention. This book addresses the unique sociocultural and historical systems of oppression that have alienated People of Color and other African-American and other racial minority patients within the mental healthcare system.

We talk in this book about the legacy of slavery and our thoughts, emotions, and behaviors, how Black people must be viewed from a lens of empathy. Since what we have experienced is connected to the oppressive legacy where we literally had to thrive despite the threat of submission or being annihilated, we have grappled in this book with the reality of residential segregation that is still pervasive throughout American cities. The problem of the color line, we talk about the processes through which segregation creates conditions that expose individuals and communities to stressors that increase the risk of mental health problems. But we also understand that segregation in itself is not something to be eradicated for. We show in this book that there are mechanisms by which communities of color live together to draw strength from one another. The point being that communities of Color should have the same access to resources as other communities. We talk in this book about the intersection of homelessness and racism that more than half of all people currently experiencing homelessness in this country are People of Color, Native Americans and African-Americans too. Historically oppressed populations are the most overrepresented. We give a call in this book to how do we break the cycle of mental illness, addiction, and incarceration. We grapple with the legacy of the war on drugs.

We grapple with the reality that cocaine-related overdose deaths among Black persons have been high for decades, but were largely neglected and ignored, whereas increasing opioid deaths among white persons were widely reported and led to an infusion of funding and resources. Once we draw our hope and our resilience, we suggest in this book that spirituality is a significant source of strength and coping within the African-American community and that it is an effective buffer against the effects of racism and oppression. We need the field of mental health to integrate spirituality into mental health care. As this is an important but often neglected aspect of African-American identity. We believe that this is a moment where we must move from cultural competency to structural competency. Cultural competency refers to the notion that the individual beliefs and cultural expression are important and they are, but we must also recognize and respond with humility and structural competency, which means engaging our communities to move upstream to address the larger socioeconomic, cultural, and political forces of our day.

Ultimately, there is a need to advocate beyond the level of the individual and to address the systemic and robust forms of racism that we must still contend with. It has been said that when a flower doesn't bloom, you fix the environment in which it grows, not the flower. And so I carry these beliefs into various roles in public service, the belief that government ought to be about people, the belief that systems ought to serve people, the belief that public servants ought to tell the truth, the belief that equity is not just naming root causes of injustices. It is allocating resources to support the desired outcomes. The belief that our communities deserve generational solutions, not just election cycle talking points, the belief that the seat of government ought not be controlled by those just seeking to maintain power, but it must be shared with persons with lived experience.

And Dr. King's legacy has allowed me to sit in those seats. Yet I have learned that to whom much is given, much is required for that seat required stewardship. It required bringing my community with me. It required including their stories in my decision-making it required, bearing witness to human suffering, and refusing to go along with the crowd who had caused the suffering. And it required saying no. When those who presumed to be owners of the seat wanted to change the person in the seat. We are all here to honor Dr. King whose resistance was part of his resilience. He said no without violence. He said no without violating his conscience. He said no with courage. He said no with conviction. He said no with a view toward peacemaking, not just peacekeeping.

So how best do we honor Dr. King's philosophy and beliefs today? Dr. King says in his message on suffering and faith, he writes, my personal trials have taught me the value of unmerited suffering as my sufferings mounted. I soon realized that there were two ways that I could respond to my situation either to react with bitterness or seek to transform the suffering into a creative force. I decided to follow the latter course. He says, recognizing the necessity for suffering. I have tried to make of it a virtue if only to save myself from bitterness. I have attempted to see my personal ordeals as an opportunity to transform myself and heal the people involved in this tragic situation. He writes I have lived these last few years with the conviction that unearned suffering is redemptive.

So Valpo University. Today, I do not intend to impose any certain belief upon you. We cannot ignore the fact that Dr. King was also a preacher, and there are deep spiritual implications of what he's saying here, that unearned suffering is redemptive. He goes on to write that the suffering and agonizing moments through which I have passed drawn me closer. Dr. King is saying this has drawn me closer to God. He says that more than ever I am convinced now of the reality of a personal God. I don't know where you are in your healing journey today, but I must tell you the truth that my resistance, like Dr. King's, is something that has become deeply spiritual. I'm beginning to understand like Dr. King, that suffering has to become a creative force. For the last few months, I have leaned into the work of building trauma-informed therapeutic spaces for young Latino men who have been at risk of having their lives derailed by mental health and substance use issues. It moved me one night when two of the young men, ages 15 and 17, our first graduates stood up and gave a speech about their recovery that was rooted in this idea. I'm not afraid of stoners for I'm learning how to sail my ship.

As I worked with these young people together, we grasped something that Dr. King stood upon until his very last breath. He said we must not fear the storm. We must not fear the turbulence. We must not fear the unexpected across this country, we are facing what I would call a crisis of belief. It may appear that the hour for equity, diversity, and inclusion work has passed. And as we address these great issues of our times, the issue of apathy and empathy requires our faith and action for all of us, no matter what we are facing today. This moment requires what Dr. King posited in his final speech the night before he was assassinated. April 3rd, 1968.

He writes, now, what does all of this mean in this great period of history? It means that we've got to stay together. We've got to stay together and maintain unity because whenever Pharaoh wanted to prolong the period of slavery in Egypt, he had a favorite formula for doing it. What was that? He says, kept the slaves fighting among themselves. But whenever they got together, something happened in Pharaoh's court and he could not hold them in bondage. He says, so now let us maintain unity. He wrote on that night, April 13, April 3rd, 1968, he says, we cannot let Mace stop us. We are masters in our nonviolent movement in disarming police forces. He says, I remember in Birmingham, Alabama when we were in that majestic struggle that we would move out of the 16th Street Baptist Church day after day by the hundreds we would move out and Bull Connor, he was the commissioner of public safety at that time, would tell them to send the dogs forth. And they came. But Dr. King writes that. They just went before the dogs singing, ain't nobody going to turn me round.

The next day they would say, turn the hoses on. And Dr. King writes that. As I said to you the other night, that bull Connor didn't know history. He knew a kind of physics that somehow didn't relate to the trans physics that we knew about, and that was the fact that there was a certain kind of water, a fire that no water could put out. So he says that they went before the fire hoses for they had a different kind of water. He says, if we were Baptists, we would have been immersed. He says, if we were Methodists and some others, we had been sprinkled. He says, but we knew water.

He says that they went on before the dogs and they would look at them and they went on before the water hoses and they would look at it and they would go on singing. Up above my head, I hear freedom in the air. The king says that. Then when we were thrown and stacked into the paddy wagons and bull, Connor would say, take them off. We would go into the paddy wagon singing we shall overcome. He continues reflecting and he says that every now and then we would land ourselves in jail and we would see the jailers looking through the windows being moved by our prayers and moved by our words and our songs. And he says that a power came over, commissioner Conner, that he ended up transforming himself into a freedom fighter. Dr. King says that through that we finally won that struggle in Birmingham.

I believe that our struggle today suggests that if Dr. King could endure what he endured and if that generation could endure what they endured, then our hour has not passed. I'm reminded that on May 26th, 2020, the whole world watched as George Floyd succumbed to the violence of police brutality. I still cannot bear to watch the video, but I learned that something powerful happened. In his final moments, I'm told that he cried out for his mother that cry forced millions across the globe to acknowledge what the police officer wouldn't, that George Floyd was human. Yet if I can imagine for a moment what that cry for his mother could have meant, seems like something of a prayer, a call for those witnessing his suffering to focus not on what is seen, but on what is unseen.

So as we go through this journey ahead of us, let us remember that unearned suffering is redemptive. The equity seeks resolve is that of Abigail Echo Hawks. We are not a historically underserved population. She writes, my history is one of ancestors who survived so I could thrive. My history didn't start with Western civilization. She writes I am colonially underserved. I am institutionally underserved, but I am historically resilient. So let us who are equity seekers in this moment declare that we may be hard-pressed on every side, but we are not crushed. We may be perplexed, but we are not in despair. We may be persecuted, but we are not forsaken. We may be struck down, but we are not destroyed. Therefore, we do not lose heart for our light affliction, which is but for a moment is working for us a far more and exceeding an eternal weight of glory.

Our suffering is redemptive. And so let us end with these closing thoughts from Dr. King as he became at peace with his own suffering. The night before his death, he wrote, let us rise up with a greater readiness. Let us stand with a greater determination and let us move on in these powerful days, these days of challenge to make America what it ought to be. We have an opportunity to make America a better nation, and I want to thank God once more for allowing me to be here with you. He writes I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead, but it doesn't matter what happens to me now because I've been to the mountaintop like anybody. I would want to live a long life. Longevity has its place, but I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will and he's allowed me to go up to the mountain and I've looked over and I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you, but I want you to know tonight that we as a people will get to the Promised Land and I'm happy tonight. I'm not worried about anything he said. I don't fear any man because my eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord mine eyes. He said, have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord. God bless you.

You can also listen along or watch the live stream recording here at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c4Gb2nRVqU8, starting at 52:00.