Narrative Inquiry in Bioethics

I am an African American, cisgender female who is a minister and hospital chaplain in the state of Alabama. The intersection of my identity and my profession in the Deep South have been problematic for many persons I have encountered through my work. The vast majority of the patients I serve are Southern Baptist and Caucasian. The minute I introduce myself as the chaplain, I am met with incredulous and skeptical looks and frequently asked, "Are you a Christian?" or, "Do you believe in Jesus?" I am uncertain what aspects of my appearance lead them to question my Christianity; perhaps it is my gender or the fact that I am African American. However, I willingly submit myself to their inquiry to appease their concerns or curiosity, and then I redirect the conversation to the actual point of my visit. I have been a chaplain since 2007 and I am sadly accustomed to bias at this point in my career. Unfortunately, the most difficult encounters have been with my colleagues.

I recall an incident from several years ago; I was seeing patients in one of the many clinics affiliated with the organization I work for. On this particular day, a Caucasian nurse was also present. I had encountered this person many times before, and we would usually exchange small talk or pleasantries. This particular day, the individual walked up, sat next to me, and began to launch into a troubling diatribe. "Blacks owned more slaves than Whites ever did! Whites never owned slaves like that! There were more Black slave owners than anything." I sat there bewildered and uncertain as to what had prompted this. Had my appearance triggered him? Was he projecting a previous discussion onto me? I remember feeling anger rising in my chest and my blood boiling over. How was one to respond to such comments? Why on earth had this person chosen to say this? What could the motivation behind the comments have been? What evidence was this person citing and why?

While this colleague and I were certainly not best friends, we had enjoyed a pleasant working relationship that was dedicated to the care of our patients and their families and caregivers. How would this incident impact the future of our working relationship?

I sat there in a pregnant pause vacillating between the professional and non-professional responses I had crafted. The former would calmly ask, "Can you help me understand what you are [End Page E8] talking about?" and the latter would have been very crass, "What the f*%k is wrong with you?" If I had chosen the latter, I am certain I would have been labeled as an "angry Black woman" who had taken things out of context or one who was "too sensitive." Neither response reached my breath.

A door to one of the clinic rooms opened and out walked a patient who was a PhD professor in African American History. This patient is a tenured, erudite scholar in the field who just so happened to be a dear family friend. (How fortuitous for me!) It had escaped my mind that this patient would be in the clinic that day. Because of HIPPA, I intentionally had not reviewed the patient's chart and had not attempted to provide pastoral care. The patient warmly embraced me and began to inquire about the well-being of my family. After I responded to the inquiry, I turned to my colleague with incredible pride and shared the patient's profession. Quite naturally, I boasted of the patient's accomplishments and recently published book while the patient, a naturally humble individual, dismissed my high praise. At this point, my colleague began to turn beet red and the tall, heavyset frame of my colleague appeared to deflate. I watched as the redness, which I assumed to be from embarrassment, began to seep from ear lobe to collarbone on my colleague, who intentionally remained silent after my introduction. The topic of my colleague's conversation mysteriously vanished with the same urgency in which it had come.

Following this encounter, I intentionally began to engage in avoidant behaviors in an...