Ebony Dennis, PsyD

America has been struggling to understand its racial dynamics since the arrival of enslaved Africans more than 400 years ago. Today, with much of the world more polarized than ever, and certainly in our United States, there is a need for something to shift us from our fear and survival paranoid schizoid (us-vs.-them) position to an integrated form if we are to come out of this unusual democratic and societal unrest whole.

Courtesy Random House

Yet, we’ve never had the lexicon to adequately describe the sociopolitical dynamics rooted in race and racism and their power to shape the thinking of all who originate in this country and all who enter its self-made borders whether forcefully or voluntarily. Enter Isabel Wilkerson, a Pulitzer Prize–winning, former New York Times Chicago bureau chief, and author of “The Warmth of Other Suns: The Epic Story of America’s Great Migration” (New York: Random House, 2010) with her second book, “Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents” (New York: Random House, 2020).

Ms. Wilkerson quickly gets to work in an engaging storytelling style of weaving past to present with ideas she supports with letters from the past, historians’ impressions, research studies, and data. Her observations and research are bookended by the lead up to the 2016 presidential election and its aftermath on the one end, and the impending 2020 presidential election on the other. In her view, the reemergence of violence that has accelerated in the 21st century and the renewed commitment to promote white supremacy can be understood if we expand our view of race and racism to consider the enduring power of caste. For, in Ms. Wilkerson’s view, the fear of the 2042 U.S. census (which is predicted to reflect for the first time a non-White majority) is a driving force behind the dominant caste’s determination to maintain the status quo power dynamics in the United States.

In an effort to explain American’s racial hierarchy, Ms. Wilkerson explains the need for a new lexicon “that may sound like a foreign language,” but this is intentional on her part. She writes:

“To recalibrate how we see ourselves, I use language that may be more commonly associated with people in other cultures, to suggest a new way of understanding our hierarchy: Dominant caste, ruling majority, favored caste, or upper caste, instead of, or in addition to, white. Middle castes instead of, or in addition to, Asian or Latino. Subordinate caste, lowest caste, bottom caste, disfavored caste, historically stigmatized instead of African-American. Original, conquered, or indigenous peoples instead of, or in addition to, Native American. Marginalized people in addition to, or instead of, women of any race, or minorities of any kind.”

Early in the book Ms. Wilkerson anchors her argument in Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s sojourn to India. Rather than focus on the known history of Dr. King’s admiration of Mohandas Gandhi, Ms. Wilkerson directs our attention to Dr. King’s discovery of his connection to Dalits, those who had been considered “untouchables” until Bhimrao Ramji Ambedkar, the Indian economist, jurist, social reformer, and Dalit leader, fiercely and successfully advocated for a rebranding of his caste of origin; instead of “untouchables” they would be considered Dalits or “broken people.” Dr. King did not meet Mr. Ambedkar, who died 3 years before this journey, but Ms. Wilkerson writes that Dr. King acknowledged the kinship, “And he said unto himself, Yes, I am an untouchable, and every Negro in the United States is an untouchable.” The Dalits and Dr. King recognized in each other their shared positions as subordinates in a global caste system.

In answering the question about the difference between racism and casteism, Ms. Wilkerson writes:

“Because caste and race are interwoven in America, it can be hard to separate the two. ... Casteism is the investment in keeping the hierarchy as it is in order to maintain your own ranking, advantage, privilege, or to elevate yourself above others or to keep others beneath you.”

Reading “Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents” is akin to the experience of gaining relief after struggling for years with a chronic malady that has a fluctuating course: Under the surface is low-grade pain that is compartmentalized and often met with denial or gaslighting when symptoms and systems are reported to members of the dominant caste. Yet, when there are acute flare-ups and increasingly frequent deadly encounters, the defenses of denial are painfully revealed; structures are broken and sometimes burned down. This has been the clinical course of racism, particularly in the United States. In that vein, an early reaction while reading “Caste” might be comparable to hearing an interpretation that educates, clarifies, resonates, and lands perfectly on the right diagnosis at the right moment.
 

Approach proves clarifying

In conceptualizing the malady as one of caste, Ms. Wilkerson achieves several things simultaneously – she names the malady, thus providing a lexicon, describes its symptoms, and most importantly, in our opinion, shares some of the compelling data from her field studies. By focusing on India, Nazi Germany, and the United States, she describes how easily one system influences another in the global effort to maintain power among the privileged.

This is not a new way of conceptualizing racial hierarchy; however, what is truly persuasive is Ms. Wilkerson’s ability to weave her rigorous research, sociopolitical analysis, and cogent psychological insights and interpretations to explain the 400-year trajectory of racialized caste in the United States. She achieves this exigent task with beautiful prose that motivates the reader to return time and time again to learn gut-wrenching painful historical details. She summarizes truths that have been unearthed (again) about Germany, India, and, in particular, the United States during her research and travels around the world. In doing so, she provides vivid examples of racism layered on caste. Consider the following:

“The Nazis were impressed by the American custom of lynching its subordinate caste of African-Americans, having become aware of the ritual torture and mutilations that typically accompanied them. Hitler especially marveled at the American ‘knack for maintaining an air of robust innocence in the wake of mass death.’ ” Ms. Wilkerson informs us that Hitler sent emissaries to study America’s Jim Crow system and then imported some features to orchestrate the Holocaust in Nazi Germany.

Her most vivid example of internalized casteism is the experience of a Dalit scholar who still experiences anxiety and a corresponding sense of inadequacy in the presence of someone who is considered to be from a higher caste.

A painful account of interpersonal racism is captured as Ms. Wilkerson recounts her experience after a routine business flight from Chicago to Detroit. She details her difficulty leaving a rental car parking lot because she had become so disoriented after being profiled and accosted by Drug Enforcement Administration agents who had intercepted her in the airport terminal and followed her onto the airport shuttle bus as she attempted to reach her destination. She provides a description of “getting turned around in a parking lot that I had been to dozens of times, going in circles, not able to get out, not registering the signs to the exit, not seeing how to get to Interstate 94, when I knew full well how to get to I-94 after all the times I’d driven it. ... This was the thievery of caste, stealing the time and psychic resources of the marginalized, draining energy in an already uphill competition. They were not, like me, frozen and disoriented, trying to make sense of a public violation that seemed all the more menacing now that I could see it in full. The quiet mundanity of that terror has never left me, the scars outliving the cut.”

This account is consistent with the dissociative, disorienting dynamics of race-based trauma. Her experience is not uncommon and helps to explain the activism of those in the subordinate caste who have attained some measure of wealth, power, and influence, and are motivated to expend their resources (energy, time, fame, and/or wealth) to raise awareness about social and political injustices by calling out structural racism in medicine, protesting police use of force by taking a knee, boycotting sporting events, and even demanding that football stadiums be used as polling sites. At the end of the day, all of us who have “made it” know that when we leave our homes, our relegation to the subordinate caste determines how we are perceived and what landmines we must navigate to make it through the day and that determine whether we will make it home.

This tour de force work of art has the potential to be a game changer in the way that we think about racial polarization in the United States. It is hoped that this new language opens up a space that allows each of us to explore this hegemony while identifying our placement and actions we take to maintain it, for each of us undeniably has a position in this caste system.

Having this new lexicon summons to mind the reactions of patients who gain immediate relief from having their illnesses named. In the case of the U.S. malady that has gripped us all, Ms. Wilkerson reiterates the importance of naming the condition. She writes:

“Because, to truly understand America, we must open our eyes to the hidden work of a caste system that has gone unnamed but prevails among us to our collective detriment, to see that we have more in common with each other and with cultures that we might otherwise dismiss, and to summon the courage to consider that therein may lie the answers.”

The naming allows both doctor and patient to have greater insight, understanding its origins and course, as well as having hope that there is a remedy. Naming facilitates the space for a shift in thinking and implementation of treatment protocols, such as Nazi Germany’s “zero tolerance policy” of swastikas in comparison to the ongoing U.S. controversy about the display of Confederate symbols. At this point in history, we welcome a diagnosis that has the potential to shift us from these poles of dominant and subordinate, black and white, good and bad, toward integration and wholeness of the individual psyche and collective global community. This is similar to what Melanie Klein calls the depressive position. Ms. Wilkerson suggests, in relinquishing these polar splits, we increase our capacity to shift to a space where our psychic integration occurs and our inextricable interdependence and responsibility for one another are honored.
 

Dr. Dunlap is a psychiatrist and psychoanalyst, and clinical professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at George Washington University. She is interested in the management of “difference” – race, gender, ethnicity, and intersectionality – in dyadic relationships and group dynamics; and the impact of racism on interpersonal relationships in institutional structures. Dr. Dunlap practices in Washington and has no disclosures. Dr. Dennis is a clinical psychologist and psychoanalyst. Her interests are in gender and ethnic diversity, health equity, and supervision and training. Dr. Dennis practices in Washington and has no disclosures.

America has been struggling to understand its racial dynamics since the arrival of enslaved Africans more than 400 years ago. Today, with much of the world more polarized than ever, and certainly in our United States, there is a need for something to shift us from our fear and survival paranoid schizoid (us-vs.-them) position to an integrated form if we are to come out of this unusual democratic and societal unrest whole.

Courtesy Random House

Yet, we’ve never had the lexicon to adequately describe the sociopolitical dynamics rooted in race and racism and their power to shape the thinking of all who originate in this country and all who enter its self-made borders whether forcefully or voluntarily. Enter Isabel Wilkerson, a Pulitzer Prize–winning, former New York Times Chicago bureau chief, and author of “The Warmth of Other Suns: The Epic Story of America’s Great Migration” (New York: Random House, 2010) with her second book, “Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents” (New York: Random House, 2020).

Ms. Wilkerson quickly gets to work in an engaging storytelling style of weaving past to present with ideas she supports with letters from the past, historians’ impressions, research studies, and data. Her observations and research are bookended by the lead up to the 2016 presidential election and its aftermath on the one end, and the impending 2020 presidential election on the other. In her view, the reemergence of violence that has accelerated in the 21st century and the renewed commitment to promote white supremacy can be understood if we expand our view of race and racism to consider the enduring power of caste. For, in Ms. Wilkerson’s view, the fear of the 2042 U.S. census (which is predicted to reflect for the first time a non-White majority) is a driving force behind the dominant caste’s determination to maintain the status quo power dynamics in the United States.

In an effort to explain American’s racial hierarchy, Ms. Wilkerson explains the need for a new lexicon “that may sound like a foreign language,” but this is intentional on her part. She writes:

“To recalibrate how we see ourselves, I use language that may be more commonly associated with people in other cultures, to suggest a new way of understanding our hierarchy: Dominant caste, ruling majority, favored caste, or upper caste, instead of, or in addition to, white. Middle castes instead of, or in addition to, Asian or Latino. Subordinate caste, lowest caste, bottom caste, disfavored caste, historically stigmatized instead of African-American. Original, conquered, or indigenous peoples instead of, or in addition to, Native American. Marginalized people in addition to, or instead of, women of any race, or minorities of any kind.”

Early in the book Ms. Wilkerson anchors her argument in Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s sojourn to India. Rather than focus on the known history of Dr. King’s admiration of Mohandas Gandhi, Ms. Wilkerson directs our attention to Dr. King’s discovery of his connection to Dalits, those who had been considered “untouchables” until Bhimrao Ramji Ambedkar, the Indian economist, jurist, social reformer, and Dalit leader, fiercely and successfully advocated for a rebranding of his caste of origin; instead of “untouchables” they would be considered Dalits or “broken people.” Dr. King did not meet Mr. Ambedkar, who died 3 years before this journey, but Ms. Wilkerson writes that Dr. King acknowledged the kinship, “And he said unto himself, Yes, I am an untouchable, and every Negro in the United States is an untouchable.” The Dalits and Dr. King recognized in each other their shared positions as subordinates in a global caste system.

In answering the question about the difference between racism and casteism, Ms. Wilkerson writes:

“Because caste and race are interwoven in America, it can be hard to separate the two. ... Casteism is the investment in keeping the hierarchy as it is in order to maintain your own ranking, advantage, privilege, or to elevate yourself above others or to keep others beneath you.”

Reading “Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents” is akin to the experience of gaining relief after struggling for years with a chronic malady that has a fluctuating course: Under the surface is low-grade pain that is compartmentalized and often met with denial or gaslighting when symptoms and systems are reported to members of the dominant caste. Yet, when there are acute flare-ups and increasingly frequent deadly encounters, the defenses of denial are painfully revealed; structures are broken and sometimes burned down. This has been the clinical course of racism, particularly in the United States. In that vein, an early reaction while reading “Caste” might be comparable to hearing an interpretation that educates, clarifies, resonates, and lands perfectly on the right diagnosis at the right moment.
 

Approach proves clarifying

In conceptualizing the malady as one of caste, Ms. Wilkerson achieves several things simultaneously – she names the malady, thus providing a lexicon, describes its symptoms, and most importantly, in our opinion, shares some of the compelling data from her field studies. By focusing on India, Nazi Germany, and the United States, she describes how easily one system influences another in the global effort to maintain power among the privileged.

This is not a new way of conceptualizing racial hierarchy; however, what is truly persuasive is Ms. Wilkerson’s ability to weave her rigorous research, sociopolitical analysis, and cogent psychological insights and interpretations to explain the 400-year trajectory of racialized caste in the United States. She achieves this exigent task with beautiful prose that motivates the reader to return time and time again to learn gut-wrenching painful historical details. She summarizes truths that have been unearthed (again) about Germany, India, and, in particular, the United States during her research and travels around the world. In doing so, she provides vivid examples of racism layered on caste. Consider the following:

“The Nazis were impressed by the American custom of lynching its subordinate caste of African-Americans, having become aware of the ritual torture and mutilations that typically accompanied them. Hitler especially marveled at the American ‘knack for maintaining an air of robust innocence in the wake of mass death.’ ” Ms. Wilkerson informs us that Hitler sent emissaries to study America’s Jim Crow system and then imported some features to orchestrate the Holocaust in Nazi Germany.

Her most vivid example of internalized casteism is the experience of a Dalit scholar who still experiences anxiety and a corresponding sense of inadequacy in the presence of someone who is considered to be from a higher caste.

A painful account of interpersonal racism is captured as Ms. Wilkerson recounts her experience after a routine business flight from Chicago to Detroit. She details her difficulty leaving a rental car parking lot because she had become so disoriented after being profiled and accosted by Drug Enforcement Administration agents who had intercepted her in the airport terminal and followed her onto the airport shuttle bus as she attempted to reach her destination. She provides a description of “getting turned around in a parking lot that I had been to dozens of times, going in circles, not able to get out, not registering the signs to the exit, not seeing how to get to Interstate 94, when I knew full well how to get to I-94 after all the times I’d driven it. ... This was the thievery of caste, stealing the time and psychic resources of the marginalized, draining energy in an already uphill competition. They were not, like me, frozen and disoriented, trying to make sense of a public violation that seemed all the more menacing now that I could see it in full. The quiet mundanity of that terror has never left me, the scars outliving the cut.”

This account is consistent with the dissociative, disorienting dynamics of race-based trauma. Her experience is not uncommon and helps to explain the activism of those in the subordinate caste who have attained some measure of wealth, power, and influence, and are motivated to expend their resources (energy, time, fame, and/or wealth) to raise awareness about social and political injustices by calling out structural racism in medicine, protesting police use of force by taking a knee, boycotting sporting events, and even demanding that football stadiums be used as polling sites. At the end of the day, all of us who have “made it” know that when we leave our homes, our relegation to the subordinate caste determines how we are perceived and what landmines we must navigate to make it through the day and that determine whether we will make it home.

This tour de force work of art has the potential to be a game changer in the way that we think about racial polarization in the United States. It is hoped that this new language opens up a space that allows each of us to explore this hegemony while identifying our placement and actions we take to maintain it, for each of us undeniably has a position in this caste system.

Having this new lexicon summons to mind the reactions of patients who gain immediate relief from having their illnesses named. In the case of the U.S. malady that has gripped us all, Ms. Wilkerson reiterates the importance of naming the condition. She writes:

“Because, to truly understand America, we must open our eyes to the hidden work of a caste system that has gone unnamed but prevails among us to our collective detriment, to see that we have more in common with each other and with cultures that we might otherwise dismiss, and to summon the courage to consider that therein may lie the answers.”

The naming allows both doctor and patient to have greater insight, understanding its origins and course, as well as having hope that there is a remedy. Naming facilitates the space for a shift in thinking and implementation of treatment protocols, such as Nazi Germany’s “zero tolerance policy” of swastikas in comparison to the ongoing U.S. controversy about the display of Confederate symbols. At this point in history, we welcome a diagnosis that has the potential to shift us from these poles of dominant and subordinate, black and white, good and bad, toward integration and wholeness of the individual psyche and collective global community. This is similar to what Melanie Klein calls the depressive position. Ms. Wilkerson suggests, in relinquishing these polar splits, we increase our capacity to shift to a space where our psychic integration occurs and our inextricable interdependence and responsibility for one another are honored.
 

Dr. Dunlap is a psychiatrist and psychoanalyst, and clinical professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at George Washington University. She is interested in the management of “difference” – race, gender, ethnicity, and intersectionality – in dyadic relationships and group dynamics; and the impact of racism on interpersonal relationships in institutional structures. Dr. Dunlap practices in Washington and has no disclosures. Dr. Dennis is a clinical psychologist and psychoanalyst. Her interests are in gender and ethnic diversity, health equity, and supervision and training. Dr. Dennis practices in Washington and has no disclosures.

America has been struggling to understand its racial dynamics since the arrival of enslaved Africans more than 400 years ago. Today, with much of the world more polarized than ever, and certainly in our United States, there is a need for something to shift us from our fear and survival paranoid schizoid (us-vs.-them) position to an integrated form if we are to come out of this unusual democratic and societal unrest whole.

Courtesy Random House

Yet, we’ve never had the lexicon to adequately describe the sociopolitical dynamics rooted in race and racism and their power to shape the thinking of all who originate in this country and all who enter its self-made borders whether forcefully or voluntarily. Enter Isabel Wilkerson, a Pulitzer Prize–winning, former New York Times Chicago bureau chief, and author of “The Warmth of Other Suns: The Epic Story of America’s Great Migration” (New York: Random House, 2010) with her second book, “Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents” (New York: Random House, 2020).

Ms. Wilkerson quickly gets to work in an engaging storytelling style of weaving past to present with ideas she supports with letters from the past, historians’ impressions, research studies, and data. Her observations and research are bookended by the lead up to the 2016 presidential election and its aftermath on the one end, and the impending 2020 presidential election on the other. In her view, the reemergence of violence that has accelerated in the 21st century and the renewed commitment to promote white supremacy can be understood if we expand our view of race and racism to consider the enduring power of caste. For, in Ms. Wilkerson’s view, the fear of the 2042 U.S. census (which is predicted to reflect for the first time a non-White majority) is a driving force behind the dominant caste’s determination to maintain the status quo power dynamics in the United States.

In an effort to explain American’s racial hierarchy, Ms. Wilkerson explains the need for a new lexicon “that may sound like a foreign language,” but this is intentional on her part. She writes:

“To recalibrate how we see ourselves, I use language that may be more commonly associated with people in other cultures, to suggest a new way of understanding our hierarchy: Dominant caste, ruling majority, favored caste, or upper caste, instead of, or in addition to, white. Middle castes instead of, or in addition to, Asian or Latino. Subordinate caste, lowest caste, bottom caste, disfavored caste, historically stigmatized instead of African-American. Original, conquered, or indigenous peoples instead of, or in addition to, Native American. Marginalized people in addition to, or instead of, women of any race, or minorities of any kind.”

Early in the book Ms. Wilkerson anchors her argument in Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s sojourn to India. Rather than focus on the known history of Dr. King’s admiration of Mohandas Gandhi, Ms. Wilkerson directs our attention to Dr. King’s discovery of his connection to Dalits, those who had been considered “untouchables” until Bhimrao Ramji Ambedkar, the Indian economist, jurist, social reformer, and Dalit leader, fiercely and successfully advocated for a rebranding of his caste of origin; instead of “untouchables” they would be considered Dalits or “broken people.” Dr. King did not meet Mr. Ambedkar, who died 3 years before this journey, but Ms. Wilkerson writes that Dr. King acknowledged the kinship, “And he said unto himself, Yes, I am an untouchable, and every Negro in the United States is an untouchable.” The Dalits and Dr. King recognized in each other their shared positions as subordinates in a global caste system.

In answering the question about the difference between racism and casteism, Ms. Wilkerson writes:

“Because caste and race are interwoven in America, it can be hard to separate the two. ... Casteism is the investment in keeping the hierarchy as it is in order to maintain your own ranking, advantage, privilege, or to elevate yourself above others or to keep others beneath you.”

Reading “Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents” is akin to the experience of gaining relief after struggling for years with a chronic malady that has a fluctuating course: Under the surface is low-grade pain that is compartmentalized and often met with denial or gaslighting when symptoms and systems are reported to members of the dominant caste. Yet, when there are acute flare-ups and increasingly frequent deadly encounters, the defenses of denial are painfully revealed; structures are broken and sometimes burned down. This has been the clinical course of racism, particularly in the United States. In that vein, an early reaction while reading “Caste” might be comparable to hearing an interpretation that educates, clarifies, resonates, and lands perfectly on the right diagnosis at the right moment.
 

Approach proves clarifying

In conceptualizing the malady as one of caste, Ms. Wilkerson achieves several things simultaneously – she names the malady, thus providing a lexicon, describes its symptoms, and most importantly, in our opinion, shares some of the compelling data from her field studies. By focusing on India, Nazi Germany, and the United States, she describes how easily one system influences another in the global effort to maintain power among the privileged.

This is not a new way of conceptualizing racial hierarchy; however, what is truly persuasive is Ms. Wilkerson’s ability to weave her rigorous research, sociopolitical analysis, and cogent psychological insights and interpretations to explain the 400-year trajectory of racialized caste in the United States. She achieves this exigent task with beautiful prose that motivates the reader to return time and time again to learn gut-wrenching painful historical details. She summarizes truths that have been unearthed (again) about Germany, India, and, in particular, the United States during her research and travels around the world. In doing so, she provides vivid examples of racism layered on caste. Consider the following:

“The Nazis were impressed by the American custom of lynching its subordinate caste of African-Americans, having become aware of the ritual torture and mutilations that typically accompanied them. Hitler especially marveled at the American ‘knack for maintaining an air of robust innocence in the wake of mass death.’ ” Ms. Wilkerson informs us that Hitler sent emissaries to study America’s Jim Crow system and then imported some features to orchestrate the Holocaust in Nazi Germany.

Her most vivid example of internalized casteism is the experience of a Dalit scholar who still experiences anxiety and a corresponding sense of inadequacy in the presence of someone who is considered to be from a higher caste.

A painful account of interpersonal racism is captured as Ms. Wilkerson recounts her experience after a routine business flight from Chicago to Detroit. She details her difficulty leaving a rental car parking lot because she had become so disoriented after being profiled and accosted by Drug Enforcement Administration agents who had intercepted her in the airport terminal and followed her onto the airport shuttle bus as she attempted to reach her destination. She provides a description of “getting turned around in a parking lot that I had been to dozens of times, going in circles, not able to get out, not registering the signs to the exit, not seeing how to get to Interstate 94, when I knew full well how to get to I-94 after all the times I’d driven it. ... This was the thievery of caste, stealing the time and psychic resources of the marginalized, draining energy in an already uphill competition. They were not, like me, frozen and disoriented, trying to make sense of a public violation that seemed all the more menacing now that I could see it in full. The quiet mundanity of that terror has never left me, the scars outliving the cut.”

This account is consistent with the dissociative, disorienting dynamics of race-based trauma. Her experience is not uncommon and helps to explain the activism of those in the subordinate caste who have attained some measure of wealth, power, and influence, and are motivated to expend their resources (energy, time, fame, and/or wealth) to raise awareness about social and political injustices by calling out structural racism in medicine, protesting police use of force by taking a knee, boycotting sporting events, and even demanding that football stadiums be used as polling sites. At the end of the day, all of us who have “made it” know that when we leave our homes, our relegation to the subordinate caste determines how we are perceived and what landmines we must navigate to make it through the day and that determine whether we will make it home.

This tour de force work of art has the potential to be a game changer in the way that we think about racial polarization in the United States. It is hoped that this new language opens up a space that allows each of us to explore this hegemony while identifying our placement and actions we take to maintain it, for each of us undeniably has a position in this caste system.

Having this new lexicon summons to mind the reactions of patients who gain immediate relief from having their illnesses named. In the case of the U.S. malady that has gripped us all, Ms. Wilkerson reiterates the importance of naming the condition. She writes:

“Because, to truly understand America, we must open our eyes to the hidden work of a caste system that has gone unnamed but prevails among us to our collective detriment, to see that we have more in common with each other and with cultures that we might otherwise dismiss, and to summon the courage to consider that therein may lie the answers.”

The naming allows both doctor and patient to have greater insight, understanding its origins and course, as well as having hope that there is a remedy. Naming facilitates the space for a shift in thinking and implementation of treatment protocols, such as Nazi Germany’s “zero tolerance policy” of swastikas in comparison to the ongoing U.S. controversy about the display of Confederate symbols. At this point in history, we welcome a diagnosis that has the potential to shift us from these poles of dominant and subordinate, black and white, good and bad, toward integration and wholeness of the individual psyche and collective global community. This is similar to what Melanie Klein calls the depressive position. Ms. Wilkerson suggests, in relinquishing these polar splits, we increase our capacity to shift to a space where our psychic integration occurs and our inextricable interdependence and responsibility for one another are honored.
 

Dr. Dunlap is a psychiatrist and psychoanalyst, and clinical professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at George Washington University. She is interested in the management of “difference” – race, gender, ethnicity, and intersectionality – in dyadic relationships and group dynamics; and the impact of racism on interpersonal relationships in institutional structures. Dr. Dunlap practices in Washington and has no disclosures. Dr. Dennis is a clinical psychologist and psychoanalyst. Her interests are in gender and ethnic diversity, health equity, and supervision and training. Dr. Dennis practices in Washington and has no disclosures.

On the Friday evening after the public execution of George Floyd, we were painfully reminded of the urgency to address the inadequate management of race, racism, and anti-blackness in medical education, residency training, and postgraduate continuing medical education.

The reminder did not originate from the rioting that was occurring in some cities, though we could feel the ground shifting beneath our feet as civic protests that began in U.S. cities spread around the globe. Instead, it occurred during a webinar we were hosting for psychiatry residents focused on techniques for eliminating blind spots in the management of race in clinical psychotherapy supervision. (Dr. Jessica Isom chaired the webinar, Dr. Flavia DeSouza and Dr. Myra Mathis comoderated, and Dr. Ebony Dennis and Dr. Constance E. Dunlap served as discussants.)

Our panel had presented an ambitious agenda that included reviewing how the disavowal of bias, race, racism, and anti-blackness contributes to ineffective psychotherapy, undermines the quality of medical care, and perpetuates mental health disparities. We spent some time exploring how unacknowledged and unexamined conscious and unconscious racial stereotypes affect interpersonal relationships, the psychotherapeutic process, and the supervisory experience. Our presentation included a clinical vignette demonstrating how racism, colorism, and anti-blackness have global impact, influencing the self-esteem, identity formation, and identity consolidation of immigrants as they grapple with the unique form of racism that exists in America. Other clinical vignettes demonstrated blind spots that were retroactively identified though omitted in supervisory discussions. We also discussed alternative interventions and interpretations of the material presented.^1-5

Because 21st-century trainees are generally psychologically astute and committed to social justice, we did two things. First, before the webinar, we provided them access to a prerecorded explanation of object relations theorist Melanie Klein’s paranoid-schizoid and depressive positions concepts, which were applied to theoretically explain the development of race, specifically the defenses used by early colonists that contributed to the development of “whiteness” and “blackness” as social constructs, and their influence on the development of the U.S. psyche. For example, as early colonists attempted to develop new and improved identities distinct from those they had in their homelands, they used enslaved black people (and other vulnerable groups) to “other.” What we mean here by othering is the process of using an other to project one’s badness into in order to relieve the self of uncomfortable aspects and feelings originating within the self. If this other accepts the projection (which is often the case with vulnerable parties), the self recognizes, that is, identifies (locates) the bad they just projected in the other, who is now experienced as a bad-other. This is projection in action. If the other accepts the projection and behaves accordingly, for example, in a manner that reflects badness, this becomes projective identification. Conversely, if the other does not accept these projections, the self (who projects) is left to cope with aspects of the self s/he might not have the capacity to manage. By capacity, we are speaking of the Bionian idea of the ability to experience an extreme emotion while also being able to think. Without the ego strength to cope with bad aspects of the self, the ego either collapses (and is unable to think) or further projection is attempted.^6-8

We have seen this latter dynamic play out repeatedly when police officers fatally shoot black citizens and then claim that they feared for their lives; these same officers have been exonerated by juries by continuing to portray the deceased victims as threatening, dangerous objects not worthy of living. We are also seeing a global movement of black and nonblack people who are in touch with a justified rage that has motivated them to return these projections by collectively protesting, and in some cases, by rioting.
 

Back to the webinar

In anticipating the residents’ curiosity, impatience, and anger about the lack of progress, the second thing we did was to show a segment from the “Black Psychoanalysts Speak” trailer. In the clip played, senior psychoanalyst Kirkland C. Vaughans, PhD, shares: “The issue of race so prompts excessive anxiety that it blocks off our ability to think.”

We showed this clip to validate the trainees’ frustrations about the difficulty the broader establishment has had with addressing this serious, longstanding public health problem. We wanted these young psychiatrists to know that there are psychoanalysts, psychiatrists, psychologists, and social workers who have been committed to this work, even though the contributions of this diverse group have curiously been omitted from education and training curricula.⁹

So, what happened? What was the painful reminder? After the formal panel presentations, a black male psychiatry resident recounted his experience in a clinical supervision meeting that had occurred several days after the murder of George Floyd. In short, a patient had shared his reactions to yet another incident of fatal police use of force and paused to ask how the resident physician, Dr. A., was doing. The question was experienced as sincere concern about the psychiatrist’s mental well-being. The resident was not sure how to answer this question since it was a matter of self-disclosure, which was a reasonable and thoughtful consideration for a seasoned clinician and, certainly, for a novice therapist. The supervisor, Dr. B., seemingly eager to move on, to not think about this, responded to the resident by saying: “Now tell me about the patient.” In other words, what had just been shared by the resident – material that featured a patient’s reaction to another killing of a black man by police and the patient’s expressed concern for his black psychiatrist, and this resident physician appropriately seeking space in supervision to process and receive guidance about how to respond – all of this was considered separate (split off from) and extraneous to the patient’s treatment and the resident’s training. This is a problem. And, unfortunately, this problem or some variation of it is not rare.

Why is this still the state of affairs when we have identified racism as a major health concern and our patients and our trainees are asking for help?
 

Rethinking a metaphor

Despite calls to action over the last 50 years to encourage medicine to effectively address race and racism, deficits remain in didactic education, clinical rotations, and supervisory experiences of trainees learning how to do psychodynamic psychotherapy.^8-10 Earlier that evening, we used the metaphor of a vehicular blind spot to capture what we believe occurs insupervision. Like drivers, supervisors generally have the ability to see. However, there are places (times) and positions (stances) that block their vision (awareness). Racism – whether institutionalized, interpersonally mediated, or internalized – also contributes to this blindness.

As is true of drivers managing a blind spot, what is required is for the drivers – the supervisors – to lean forward or reposition themselves so as to avoid collisions, maintain safety, and continue on course. We use this metaphor because it is understood that any clinician providing psychodynamic supervision to psychiatry residents, regardless of professional discipline, has the requisite skills and training.^10-13

Until May 25, we thought eliminating blind spots would be effective. But, in the aftermath of the police killing of George Floyd, our eyes have been opened.

We are encouraged by the global protests and initial actions to reform law enforcement, but we realize that medicine is in need of reform. Hiding behind the blue wall of silence is an establishment that has looked the other way while black and brown women, men, and children have come to live in fear as a result of the state-sanctioned violence that repeatedly occurs across the nation. Excessive police use of force is a public health issue of crisis magnitude. However, the house of medicine, like many other established structures in society, has colluded with the societal constructs that have supported law enforcement by remaining willfully blind, often neutral, and by refusing to make the necessary adjustments, including connecting the dots between police violence and physical and mental health.

For example, racism has never been listed even in the index of the American Psychiatric Association’s (APA) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.¹⁴ Being the victim of police use of force is not generally regarded as an adverse childhood experience, even though communities that are heavily policed experience harassment by law enforcement on a regular basis. The 12 causes of trauma listed on the website¹⁵ of the National Child Traumatic Stress Network – bullying, community violence, complex trauma, disasters, early childhood trauma, intimate partner violence, medical trauma, physical abuse, refugee trauma, sexual abuse, terrorism and violence, and traumatic grief – do not include maltreatment, abuse, or trauma resulting from interactions with members of law enforcement. Much of the adverse childhood experiences literature focuses on white, upper middle class children and on experiences within the home. When community level experiences, such as discrimination based on race or ethnicity, are included, as in the Philadelphia ACES study,¹⁶ as many as 40% reported ACE scores of greater than 4 for community level exposures.

As psychiatrists, we recognize the psychic underpinnings and parallels between the psychic projections onto black and brown people and the actual bullets pumped into the bodies of black and brown people; there is a lurid propensity to use these others as repositories. Those who have the privilege of being protected by law enforcement and the ability to avoid being used as containers for the psychic projections and bullets of some police officers also have the privilege of compartmentalizing and looking the other way when excessive acts of force – projections and projectiles – are used on other human beings. This partly explains why the injuries and deaths of black and brown people caused by police officers’ excessive use of force have continued even though these unjustified deaths are widely televised and disseminated via various social media platforms.

Prior to the death of George Floyd on May 25, other than the American Public Health Association, the National Medical Association (NMA) was the only major medical organization to issue a call to consider police use of force as a public health issue. In its July 2016 press release, provided in the aftermath of the death of Freddie Gray while in the custody of Baltimore police officers, the NMA summarized the scope of injuries citizens sustain during “the pre-custody (commission of a crime, during a fight, chase, and apprehension, during a siege or hostage situation, or during restraint or submission), custody (soon after being admitted to jail, during interrogation, during incarceration, or legal execution), and post-custody (revenge by police or rival criminals or after reentry into the community)” periods. It is noteworthy that the scope of these injuries is comparable to those encountered in a combat zone.^17,18 According to the NMA:

“Injuries sustained by civilians at the hands of law enforcement include gunshot wounds, skull fractures, cervical spine injuries, facial fractures, broken legs, blunt trauma orbital floor fractures, laryngeal cartilage fractures, shoulder dislocations, cuts and bruises, concussions, hemorrhage, choking (positional or due to upper body holds), abdominal trauma, hemothorax, and pneumothorax. Complications of such injuries include posttraumatic brain swelling, infections following open fractures and lacerations, hydrocephalus due to blood or infection, as well as subdural and epidural hematomas and, in the most severe cases, death.”

In addition, there are multiple emotional and psychiatric sequelae of these injuries for the victims, families, upstanders, bystanders, and those viewing these images via various social media platforms. Increasingly, many are experiencing retraumatization each time a new death is reported. How do we explain that we are turning away from this as physicians and trainers of physicians? Seeing and not seeing – all of the methods used to avert one’s gaze and look the other way (to protect the psyches of nonmarginalized members of society from being disturbed and possibly traumatized) – these key defense mechanisms creep into consulting rooms and become fertile ground for the enactment described above.

Yet, there is reason to believe in change. It’s not simply because we are mental health professionals and that’s what we do. With the posting of position statements issued by major corporations and a growing number of medical organizations, many of us are experiencing a mixture of hope, anger, and sadness. Hope that widespread awareness will continue to tilt the axis of our country in a manner that opens eyes – and hearts – so that real work can be done; and anger and sadness because it has taken 400 years to receive even this level of validation.

In the meantime, we are encouraged by a joint position statement recently issued by the APA and the NMA, the first joint effort by these two medical organizations to partner and advocate for criminal justice reform. We mention this statement because the NMA has been committed to the needs of the black community since its inception in 1895, and the APA has as its mission a commitment to serve “the needs of evolving, diverse, underrepresented, and underserved patient populations” ... and the resources to do so. This is the kind of partnership that could transform words into meaningful action.^19,20

Of course, resident psychiatrist Dr. A. had begun supervision with the discussion of his dyadic experience with his patient, which is set in the context of a global coronavirus pandemic that is disproportionately affecting black and brown people. And, while his peers are marching in protest, he and his fellow trainees deserve our support as they deal with their own psychic pain and prepare to steady themselves. For these psychiatrists will be called to provide care to those who will consult them once they begin to grapple with the experiences and, in some cases, traumas that have compelled them to take action and literally risk their safety and lives while protesting.

That evening, the residents were hungry for methods to fill the gaps in their training and supervision. In some cases, we provided scripts to be taken back to supervision. For example, the following is a potential scripted response for the supervisor in the enactment described above:
 

Resident speaking to supervisor: This is a black patient who, like many others, is affected by the chronic, repeated televised images of black men killed by police. I am also a black man.

I think what I have shared is pertinent to the patient’s care and my experience as a black male psychiatrist who will need to learn how to address this in my patients who are black and for other racialized groups, as well as with whites who might have rarely been cared for by a black man. Can we discuss this?

We also anticipated that some residents would need to exercise their right to request reassignment to another supervisor. And, until we do better at listening, seeing, and deepening our understanding, outside and inside the consulting room and in supervision, more residents might need to steer around those who have the potential to undermine training and adversely affect treatment. But, as a professional medical community in crisis, do we really want to proceed in such an ad hoc fashion?
 

Dr. Dunlap is a psychiatrist and psychoanalyst, and clinical professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at George Washington University. She is interested in the management of “difference” – race, gender, ethnicity, and intersectionality – in dyadic relationships and group dynamics; and the impact of racism on interpersonal relationships in institutional structures. Dr. Dunlap practices in Washington and has no disclosures.

Dr. Dennis is a clinical psychologist and psychoanalyst. Her interests are in gender and ethnic diversity, health equity, and supervision and training. Dr. Dennis practices in Washington and has no disclosures.

Dr. DeSouza is a PGY-4 psychiatry resident and public psychiatry fellow in the department of psychiatry at Yale University, New Haven, Conn. Her professional interests include health services development and delivery in low- and middle-income settings, as well as the intersection of mental health and spirituality. She has no disclosures.

Dr. Isom is a staff psychiatrist at the Codman Square Health Center in Dorchester, Mass., and Boston Medical Center. Her interests include racial mental health equity and population health approaches to community psychiatry. She has no disclosures.

Dr. Mathis is an addictions fellow in the department of psychiatry at Yale University and former programwide chief resident at Yale. Her interests include the intersection of racial justice and mental health, health equity, and spirituality. She has no disclosures.

References

1. Mental Health: Culture, Race, and Ethnicity. A Supplement to Mental Health: A Report of the Surgeon General. Rockville, Md.: Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, 2001.

2. Banaji MR and Greenwald AG. Blindspot: Hidden Biases of Good People. New York: Delacorte Press, 2013.

3. Anekwe ON. Voices in Bioethics. 2014.

4. Soute BJ. The American Psychoanalyst Magazine. 2017 Winter/Spring.

5. Powell DR. J Am Psychoanal Assoc. 2019 Jan 8. doi: 10.1177/000306511881847.

6. Allen TW. The Invention of the White Race. London: Verso, 1994.

7. Klein M. Int J Psychoanal. 1946;27(pt.3-4):99-100.

8. Bion WR. (1962b). Psychoanal Q. 2013 Apr;82(2):301-10.

9. Black Psychoanalysts Speak trailer.

10. Thomas A and Sillen S. Racism and Psychiatry. New York: Brunner/Mazel, 1972.

11. Jones BE et al. Am J Psychiatry. 1970 Dec;127(6):798-803.

12. Sabshin M et al. Am J Psychiatry. 1970 Dec;126(6):787-93.

13. Medlock M et al. Am J Psychiatry. 2017 May 9. doi: 10.1176/appi.ajp-rj.2016.110206.

14. Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, fifth edition (DSM-5). Arlington, Va.: American Psychiatric Association, 2013.

15. “What is Child Trauma?” The National Child Traumatic Stress Network.

16. The Philadelphia Project. Philadelphia ACE Survey.

17. “Addressing law enforcement violence as a public health issue.” Washington: American Public Health Association. 2018 Nov 13. Policy# 20811.

18. National Medical Association position statement on police use of force. NMA 2016.

19. “APA and NMA jointly condemn systemic racism in America.” 2020 Jun 16.

20. APA Strategic Plan. 2015 Mar.

On the Friday evening after the public execution of George Floyd, we were painfully reminded of the urgency to address the inadequate management of race, racism, and anti-blackness in medical education, residency training, and postgraduate continuing medical education.

The reminder did not originate from the rioting that was occurring in some cities, though we could feel the ground shifting beneath our feet as civic protests that began in U.S. cities spread around the globe. Instead, it occurred during a webinar we were hosting for psychiatry residents focused on techniques for eliminating blind spots in the management of race in clinical psychotherapy supervision. (Dr. Jessica Isom chaired the webinar, Dr. Flavia DeSouza and Dr. Myra Mathis comoderated, and Dr. Ebony Dennis and Dr. Constance E. Dunlap served as discussants.)

Our panel had presented an ambitious agenda that included reviewing how the disavowal of bias, race, racism, and anti-blackness contributes to ineffective psychotherapy, undermines the quality of medical care, and perpetuates mental health disparities. We spent some time exploring how unacknowledged and unexamined conscious and unconscious racial stereotypes affect interpersonal relationships, the psychotherapeutic process, and the supervisory experience. Our presentation included a clinical vignette demonstrating how racism, colorism, and anti-blackness have global impact, influencing the self-esteem, identity formation, and identity consolidation of immigrants as they grapple with the unique form of racism that exists in America. Other clinical vignettes demonstrated blind spots that were retroactively identified though omitted in supervisory discussions. We also discussed alternative interventions and interpretations of the material presented.^1-5

Because 21st-century trainees are generally psychologically astute and committed to social justice, we did two things. First, before the webinar, we provided them access to a prerecorded explanation of object relations theorist Melanie Klein’s paranoid-schizoid and depressive positions concepts, which were applied to theoretically explain the development of race, specifically the defenses used by early colonists that contributed to the development of “whiteness” and “blackness” as social constructs, and their influence on the development of the U.S. psyche. For example, as early colonists attempted to develop new and improved identities distinct from those they had in their homelands, they used enslaved black people (and other vulnerable groups) to “other.” What we mean here by othering is the process of using an other to project one’s badness into in order to relieve the self of uncomfortable aspects and feelings originating within the self. If this other accepts the projection (which is often the case with vulnerable parties), the self recognizes, that is, identifies (locates) the bad they just projected in the other, who is now experienced as a bad-other. This is projection in action. If the other accepts the projection and behaves accordingly, for example, in a manner that reflects badness, this becomes projective identification. Conversely, if the other does not accept these projections, the self (who projects) is left to cope with aspects of the self s/he might not have the capacity to manage. By capacity, we are speaking of the Bionian idea of the ability to experience an extreme emotion while also being able to think. Without the ego strength to cope with bad aspects of the self, the ego either collapses (and is unable to think) or further projection is attempted.^6-8

We have seen this latter dynamic play out repeatedly when police officers fatally shoot black citizens and then claim that they feared for their lives; these same officers have been exonerated by juries by continuing to portray the deceased victims as threatening, dangerous objects not worthy of living. We are also seeing a global movement of black and nonblack people who are in touch with a justified rage that has motivated them to return these projections by collectively protesting, and in some cases, by rioting.
 

Back to the webinar

In anticipating the residents’ curiosity, impatience, and anger about the lack of progress, the second thing we did was to show a segment from the “Black Psychoanalysts Speak” trailer. In the clip played, senior psychoanalyst Kirkland C. Vaughans, PhD, shares: “The issue of race so prompts excessive anxiety that it blocks off our ability to think.”

We showed this clip to validate the trainees’ frustrations about the difficulty the broader establishment has had with addressing this serious, longstanding public health problem. We wanted these young psychiatrists to know that there are psychoanalysts, psychiatrists, psychologists, and social workers who have been committed to this work, even though the contributions of this diverse group have curiously been omitted from education and training curricula.⁹

So, what happened? What was the painful reminder? After the formal panel presentations, a black male psychiatry resident recounted his experience in a clinical supervision meeting that had occurred several days after the murder of George Floyd. In short, a patient had shared his reactions to yet another incident of fatal police use of force and paused to ask how the resident physician, Dr. A., was doing. The question was experienced as sincere concern about the psychiatrist’s mental well-being. The resident was not sure how to answer this question since it was a matter of self-disclosure, which was a reasonable and thoughtful consideration for a seasoned clinician and, certainly, for a novice therapist. The supervisor, Dr. B., seemingly eager to move on, to not think about this, responded to the resident by saying: “Now tell me about the patient.” In other words, what had just been shared by the resident – material that featured a patient’s reaction to another killing of a black man by police and the patient’s expressed concern for his black psychiatrist, and this resident physician appropriately seeking space in supervision to process and receive guidance about how to respond – all of this was considered separate (split off from) and extraneous to the patient’s treatment and the resident’s training. This is a problem. And, unfortunately, this problem or some variation of it is not rare.

Why is this still the state of affairs when we have identified racism as a major health concern and our patients and our trainees are asking for help?
 

Rethinking a metaphor

Despite calls to action over the last 50 years to encourage medicine to effectively address race and racism, deficits remain in didactic education, clinical rotations, and supervisory experiences of trainees learning how to do psychodynamic psychotherapy.^8-10 Earlier that evening, we used the metaphor of a vehicular blind spot to capture what we believe occurs insupervision. Like drivers, supervisors generally have the ability to see. However, there are places (times) and positions (stances) that block their vision (awareness). Racism – whether institutionalized, interpersonally mediated, or internalized – also contributes to this blindness.

As is true of drivers managing a blind spot, what is required is for the drivers – the supervisors – to lean forward or reposition themselves so as to avoid collisions, maintain safety, and continue on course. We use this metaphor because it is understood that any clinician providing psychodynamic supervision to psychiatry residents, regardless of professional discipline, has the requisite skills and training.^10-13

Until May 25, we thought eliminating blind spots would be effective. But, in the aftermath of the police killing of George Floyd, our eyes have been opened.

We are encouraged by the global protests and initial actions to reform law enforcement, but we realize that medicine is in need of reform. Hiding behind the blue wall of silence is an establishment that has looked the other way while black and brown women, men, and children have come to live in fear as a result of the state-sanctioned violence that repeatedly occurs across the nation. Excessive police use of force is a public health issue of crisis magnitude. However, the house of medicine, like many other established structures in society, has colluded with the societal constructs that have supported law enforcement by remaining willfully blind, often neutral, and by refusing to make the necessary adjustments, including connecting the dots between police violence and physical and mental health.

For example, racism has never been listed even in the index of the American Psychiatric Association’s (APA) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.¹⁴ Being the victim of police use of force is not generally regarded as an adverse childhood experience, even though communities that are heavily policed experience harassment by law enforcement on a regular basis. The 12 causes of trauma listed on the website¹⁵ of the National Child Traumatic Stress Network – bullying, community violence, complex trauma, disasters, early childhood trauma, intimate partner violence, medical trauma, physical abuse, refugee trauma, sexual abuse, terrorism and violence, and traumatic grief – do not include maltreatment, abuse, or trauma resulting from interactions with members of law enforcement. Much of the adverse childhood experiences literature focuses on white, upper middle class children and on experiences within the home. When community level experiences, such as discrimination based on race or ethnicity, are included, as in the Philadelphia ACES study,¹⁶ as many as 40% reported ACE scores of greater than 4 for community level exposures.

As psychiatrists, we recognize the psychic underpinnings and parallels between the psychic projections onto black and brown people and the actual bullets pumped into the bodies of black and brown people; there is a lurid propensity to use these others as repositories. Those who have the privilege of being protected by law enforcement and the ability to avoid being used as containers for the psychic projections and bullets of some police officers also have the privilege of compartmentalizing and looking the other way when excessive acts of force – projections and projectiles – are used on other human beings. This partly explains why the injuries and deaths of black and brown people caused by police officers’ excessive use of force have continued even though these unjustified deaths are widely televised and disseminated via various social media platforms.

Prior to the death of George Floyd on May 25, other than the American Public Health Association, the National Medical Association (NMA) was the only major medical organization to issue a call to consider police use of force as a public health issue. In its July 2016 press release, provided in the aftermath of the death of Freddie Gray while in the custody of Baltimore police officers, the NMA summarized the scope of injuries citizens sustain during “the pre-custody (commission of a crime, during a fight, chase, and apprehension, during a siege or hostage situation, or during restraint or submission), custody (soon after being admitted to jail, during interrogation, during incarceration, or legal execution), and post-custody (revenge by police or rival criminals or after reentry into the community)” periods. It is noteworthy that the scope of these injuries is comparable to those encountered in a combat zone.^17,18 According to the NMA:

“Injuries sustained by civilians at the hands of law enforcement include gunshot wounds, skull fractures, cervical spine injuries, facial fractures, broken legs, blunt trauma orbital floor fractures, laryngeal cartilage fractures, shoulder dislocations, cuts and bruises, concussions, hemorrhage, choking (positional or due to upper body holds), abdominal trauma, hemothorax, and pneumothorax. Complications of such injuries include posttraumatic brain swelling, infections following open fractures and lacerations, hydrocephalus due to blood or infection, as well as subdural and epidural hematomas and, in the most severe cases, death.”

In addition, there are multiple emotional and psychiatric sequelae of these injuries for the victims, families, upstanders, bystanders, and those viewing these images via various social media platforms. Increasingly, many are experiencing retraumatization each time a new death is reported. How do we explain that we are turning away from this as physicians and trainers of physicians? Seeing and not seeing – all of the methods used to avert one’s gaze and look the other way (to protect the psyches of nonmarginalized members of society from being disturbed and possibly traumatized) – these key defense mechanisms creep into consulting rooms and become fertile ground for the enactment described above.

Yet, there is reason to believe in change. It’s not simply because we are mental health professionals and that’s what we do. With the posting of position statements issued by major corporations and a growing number of medical organizations, many of us are experiencing a mixture of hope, anger, and sadness. Hope that widespread awareness will continue to tilt the axis of our country in a manner that opens eyes – and hearts – so that real work can be done; and anger and sadness because it has taken 400 years to receive even this level of validation.

In the meantime, we are encouraged by a joint position statement recently issued by the APA and the NMA, the first joint effort by these two medical organizations to partner and advocate for criminal justice reform. We mention this statement because the NMA has been committed to the needs of the black community since its inception in 1895, and the APA has as its mission a commitment to serve “the needs of evolving, diverse, underrepresented, and underserved patient populations” ... and the resources to do so. This is the kind of partnership that could transform words into meaningful action.^19,20

Of course, resident psychiatrist Dr. A. had begun supervision with the discussion of his dyadic experience with his patient, which is set in the context of a global coronavirus pandemic that is disproportionately affecting black and brown people. And, while his peers are marching in protest, he and his fellow trainees deserve our support as they deal with their own psychic pain and prepare to steady themselves. For these psychiatrists will be called to provide care to those who will consult them once they begin to grapple with the experiences and, in some cases, traumas that have compelled them to take action and literally risk their safety and lives while protesting.

That evening, the residents were hungry for methods to fill the gaps in their training and supervision. In some cases, we provided scripts to be taken back to supervision. For example, the following is a potential scripted response for the supervisor in the enactment described above:
 

Resident speaking to supervisor: This is a black patient who, like many others, is affected by the chronic, repeated televised images of black men killed by police. I am also a black man.

I think what I have shared is pertinent to the patient’s care and my experience as a black male psychiatrist who will need to learn how to address this in my patients who are black and for other racialized groups, as well as with whites who might have rarely been cared for by a black man. Can we discuss this?

We also anticipated that some residents would need to exercise their right to request reassignment to another supervisor. And, until we do better at listening, seeing, and deepening our understanding, outside and inside the consulting room and in supervision, more residents might need to steer around those who have the potential to undermine training and adversely affect treatment. But, as a professional medical community in crisis, do we really want to proceed in such an ad hoc fashion?
 

Dr. Dunlap is a psychiatrist and psychoanalyst, and clinical professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at George Washington University. She is interested in the management of “difference” – race, gender, ethnicity, and intersectionality – in dyadic relationships and group dynamics; and the impact of racism on interpersonal relationships in institutional structures. Dr. Dunlap practices in Washington and has no disclosures.

Dr. Dennis is a clinical psychologist and psychoanalyst. Her interests are in gender and ethnic diversity, health equity, and supervision and training. Dr. Dennis practices in Washington and has no disclosures.

Dr. DeSouza is a PGY-4 psychiatry resident and public psychiatry fellow in the department of psychiatry at Yale University, New Haven, Conn. Her professional interests include health services development and delivery in low- and middle-income settings, as well as the intersection of mental health and spirituality. She has no disclosures.

Dr. Isom is a staff psychiatrist at the Codman Square Health Center in Dorchester, Mass., and Boston Medical Center. Her interests include racial mental health equity and population health approaches to community psychiatry. She has no disclosures.

Dr. Mathis is an addictions fellow in the department of psychiatry at Yale University and former programwide chief resident at Yale. Her interests include the intersection of racial justice and mental health, health equity, and spirituality. She has no disclosures.

References

1. Mental Health: Culture, Race, and Ethnicity. A Supplement to Mental Health: A Report of the Surgeon General. Rockville, Md.: Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, 2001.

2. Banaji MR and Greenwald AG. Blindspot: Hidden Biases of Good People. New York: Delacorte Press, 2013.

3. Anekwe ON. Voices in Bioethics. 2014.

4. Soute BJ. The American Psychoanalyst Magazine. 2017 Winter/Spring.

5. Powell DR. J Am Psychoanal Assoc. 2019 Jan 8. doi: 10.1177/000306511881847.

6. Allen TW. The Invention of the White Race. London: Verso, 1994.

7. Klein M. Int J Psychoanal. 1946;27(pt.3-4):99-100.

8. Bion WR. (1962b). Psychoanal Q. 2013 Apr;82(2):301-10.

9. Black Psychoanalysts Speak trailer.

10. Thomas A and Sillen S. Racism and Psychiatry. New York: Brunner/Mazel, 1972.

11. Jones BE et al. Am J Psychiatry. 1970 Dec;127(6):798-803.

12. Sabshin M et al. Am J Psychiatry. 1970 Dec;126(6):787-93.

13. Medlock M et al. Am J Psychiatry. 2017 May 9. doi: 10.1176/appi.ajp-rj.2016.110206.

14. Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, fifth edition (DSM-5). Arlington, Va.: American Psychiatric Association, 2013.

15. “What is Child Trauma?” The National Child Traumatic Stress Network.

16. The Philadelphia Project. Philadelphia ACE Survey.

17. “Addressing law enforcement violence as a public health issue.” Washington: American Public Health Association. 2018 Nov 13. Policy# 20811.

18. National Medical Association position statement on police use of force. NMA 2016.

19. “APA and NMA jointly condemn systemic racism in America.” 2020 Jun 16.

20. APA Strategic Plan. 2015 Mar.

On the Friday evening after the public execution of George Floyd, we were painfully reminded of the urgency to address the inadequate management of race, racism, and anti-blackness in medical education, residency training, and postgraduate continuing medical education.

The reminder did not originate from the rioting that was occurring in some cities, though we could feel the ground shifting beneath our feet as civic protests that began in U.S. cities spread around the globe. Instead, it occurred during a webinar we were hosting for psychiatry residents focused on techniques for eliminating blind spots in the management of race in clinical psychotherapy supervision. (Dr. Jessica Isom chaired the webinar, Dr. Flavia DeSouza and Dr. Myra Mathis comoderated, and Dr. Ebony Dennis and Dr. Constance E. Dunlap served as discussants.)

Our panel had presented an ambitious agenda that included reviewing how the disavowal of bias, race, racism, and anti-blackness contributes to ineffective psychotherapy, undermines the quality of medical care, and perpetuates mental health disparities. We spent some time exploring how unacknowledged and unexamined conscious and unconscious racial stereotypes affect interpersonal relationships, the psychotherapeutic process, and the supervisory experience. Our presentation included a clinical vignette demonstrating how racism, colorism, and anti-blackness have global impact, influencing the self-esteem, identity formation, and identity consolidation of immigrants as they grapple with the unique form of racism that exists in America. Other clinical vignettes demonstrated blind spots that were retroactively identified though omitted in supervisory discussions. We also discussed alternative interventions and interpretations of the material presented.^1-5

Because 21st-century trainees are generally psychologically astute and committed to social justice, we did two things. First, before the webinar, we provided them access to a prerecorded explanation of object relations theorist Melanie Klein’s paranoid-schizoid and depressive positions concepts, which were applied to theoretically explain the development of race, specifically the defenses used by early colonists that contributed to the development of “whiteness” and “blackness” as social constructs, and their influence on the development of the U.S. psyche. For example, as early colonists attempted to develop new and improved identities distinct from those they had in their homelands, they used enslaved black people (and other vulnerable groups) to “other.” What we mean here by othering is the process of using an other to project one’s badness into in order to relieve the self of uncomfortable aspects and feelings originating within the self. If this other accepts the projection (which is often the case with vulnerable parties), the self recognizes, that is, identifies (locates) the bad they just projected in the other, who is now experienced as a bad-other. This is projection in action. If the other accepts the projection and behaves accordingly, for example, in a manner that reflects badness, this becomes projective identification. Conversely, if the other does not accept these projections, the self (who projects) is left to cope with aspects of the self s/he might not have the capacity to manage. By capacity, we are speaking of the Bionian idea of the ability to experience an extreme emotion while also being able to think. Without the ego strength to cope with bad aspects of the self, the ego either collapses (and is unable to think) or further projection is attempted.^6-8

We have seen this latter dynamic play out repeatedly when police officers fatally shoot black citizens and then claim that they feared for their lives; these same officers have been exonerated by juries by continuing to portray the deceased victims as threatening, dangerous objects not worthy of living. We are also seeing a global movement of black and nonblack people who are in touch with a justified rage that has motivated them to return these projections by collectively protesting, and in some cases, by rioting.
 

Back to the webinar

In anticipating the residents’ curiosity, impatience, and anger about the lack of progress, the second thing we did was to show a segment from the “Black Psychoanalysts Speak” trailer. In the clip played, senior psychoanalyst Kirkland C. Vaughans, PhD, shares: “The issue of race so prompts excessive anxiety that it blocks off our ability to think.”

We showed this clip to validate the trainees’ frustrations about the difficulty the broader establishment has had with addressing this serious, longstanding public health problem. We wanted these young psychiatrists to know that there are psychoanalysts, psychiatrists, psychologists, and social workers who have been committed to this work, even though the contributions of this diverse group have curiously been omitted from education and training curricula.⁹

So, what happened? What was the painful reminder? After the formal panel presentations, a black male psychiatry resident recounted his experience in a clinical supervision meeting that had occurred several days after the murder of George Floyd. In short, a patient had shared his reactions to yet another incident of fatal police use of force and paused to ask how the resident physician, Dr. A., was doing. The question was experienced as sincere concern about the psychiatrist’s mental well-being. The resident was not sure how to answer this question since it was a matter of self-disclosure, which was a reasonable and thoughtful consideration for a seasoned clinician and, certainly, for a novice therapist. The supervisor, Dr. B., seemingly eager to move on, to not think about this, responded to the resident by saying: “Now tell me about the patient.” In other words, what had just been shared by the resident – material that featured a patient’s reaction to another killing of a black man by police and the patient’s expressed concern for his black psychiatrist, and this resident physician appropriately seeking space in supervision to process and receive guidance about how to respond – all of this was considered separate (split off from) and extraneous to the patient’s treatment and the resident’s training. This is a problem. And, unfortunately, this problem or some variation of it is not rare.

Why is this still the state of affairs when we have identified racism as a major health concern and our patients and our trainees are asking for help?
 

Rethinking a metaphor

Despite calls to action over the last 50 years to encourage medicine to effectively address race and racism, deficits remain in didactic education, clinical rotations, and supervisory experiences of trainees learning how to do psychodynamic psychotherapy.^8-10 Earlier that evening, we used the metaphor of a vehicular blind spot to capture what we believe occurs insupervision. Like drivers, supervisors generally have the ability to see. However, there are places (times) and positions (stances) that block their vision (awareness). Racism – whether institutionalized, interpersonally mediated, or internalized – also contributes to this blindness.

As is true of drivers managing a blind spot, what is required is for the drivers – the supervisors – to lean forward or reposition themselves so as to avoid collisions, maintain safety, and continue on course. We use this metaphor because it is understood that any clinician providing psychodynamic supervision to psychiatry residents, regardless of professional discipline, has the requisite skills and training.^10-13

Until May 25, we thought eliminating blind spots would be effective. But, in the aftermath of the police killing of George Floyd, our eyes have been opened.

We are encouraged by the global protests and initial actions to reform law enforcement, but we realize that medicine is in need of reform. Hiding behind the blue wall of silence is an establishment that has looked the other way while black and brown women, men, and children have come to live in fear as a result of the state-sanctioned violence that repeatedly occurs across the nation. Excessive police use of force is a public health issue of crisis magnitude. However, the house of medicine, like many other established structures in society, has colluded with the societal constructs that have supported law enforcement by remaining willfully blind, often neutral, and by refusing to make the necessary adjustments, including connecting the dots between police violence and physical and mental health.

For example, racism has never been listed even in the index of the American Psychiatric Association’s (APA) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.¹⁴ Being the victim of police use of force is not generally regarded as an adverse childhood experience, even though communities that are heavily policed experience harassment by law enforcement on a regular basis. The 12 causes of trauma listed on the website¹⁵ of the National Child Traumatic Stress Network – bullying, community violence, complex trauma, disasters, early childhood trauma, intimate partner violence, medical trauma, physical abuse, refugee trauma, sexual abuse, terrorism and violence, and traumatic grief – do not include maltreatment, abuse, or trauma resulting from interactions with members of law enforcement. Much of the adverse childhood experiences literature focuses on white, upper middle class children and on experiences within the home. When community level experiences, such as discrimination based on race or ethnicity, are included, as in the Philadelphia ACES study,¹⁶ as many as 40% reported ACE scores of greater than 4 for community level exposures.

As psychiatrists, we recognize the psychic underpinnings and parallels between the psychic projections onto black and brown people and the actual bullets pumped into the bodies of black and brown people; there is a lurid propensity to use these others as repositories. Those who have the privilege of being protected by law enforcement and the ability to avoid being used as containers for the psychic projections and bullets of some police officers also have the privilege of compartmentalizing and looking the other way when excessive acts of force – projections and projectiles – are used on other human beings. This partly explains why the injuries and deaths of black and brown people caused by police officers’ excessive use of force have continued even though these unjustified deaths are widely televised and disseminated via various social media platforms.

Prior to the death of George Floyd on May 25, other than the American Public Health Association, the National Medical Association (NMA) was the only major medical organization to issue a call to consider police use of force as a public health issue. In its July 2016 press release, provided in the aftermath of the death of Freddie Gray while in the custody of Baltimore police officers, the NMA summarized the scope of injuries citizens sustain during “the pre-custody (commission of a crime, during a fight, chase, and apprehension, during a siege or hostage situation, or during restraint or submission), custody (soon after being admitted to jail, during interrogation, during incarceration, or legal execution), and post-custody (revenge by police or rival criminals or after reentry into the community)” periods. It is noteworthy that the scope of these injuries is comparable to those encountered in a combat zone.^17,18 According to the NMA:

“Injuries sustained by civilians at the hands of law enforcement include gunshot wounds, skull fractures, cervical spine injuries, facial fractures, broken legs, blunt trauma orbital floor fractures, laryngeal cartilage fractures, shoulder dislocations, cuts and bruises, concussions, hemorrhage, choking (positional or due to upper body holds), abdominal trauma, hemothorax, and pneumothorax. Complications of such injuries include posttraumatic brain swelling, infections following open fractures and lacerations, hydrocephalus due to blood or infection, as well as subdural and epidural hematomas and, in the most severe cases, death.”

In addition, there are multiple emotional and psychiatric sequelae of these injuries for the victims, families, upstanders, bystanders, and those viewing these images via various social media platforms. Increasingly, many are experiencing retraumatization each time a new death is reported. How do we explain that we are turning away from this as physicians and trainers of physicians? Seeing and not seeing – all of the methods used to avert one’s gaze and look the other way (to protect the psyches of nonmarginalized members of society from being disturbed and possibly traumatized) – these key defense mechanisms creep into consulting rooms and become fertile ground for the enactment described above.

Yet, there is reason to believe in change. It’s not simply because we are mental health professionals and that’s what we do. With the posting of position statements issued by major corporations and a growing number of medical organizations, many of us are experiencing a mixture of hope, anger, and sadness. Hope that widespread awareness will continue to tilt the axis of our country in a manner that opens eyes – and hearts – so that real work can be done; and anger and sadness because it has taken 400 years to receive even this level of validation.

In the meantime, we are encouraged by a joint position statement recently issued by the APA and the NMA, the first joint effort by these two medical organizations to partner and advocate for criminal justice reform. We mention this statement because the NMA has been committed to the needs of the black community since its inception in 1895, and the APA has as its mission a commitment to serve “the needs of evolving, diverse, underrepresented, and underserved patient populations” ... and the resources to do so. This is the kind of partnership that could transform words into meaningful action.^19,20

Of course, resident psychiatrist Dr. A. had begun supervision with the discussion of his dyadic experience with his patient, which is set in the context of a global coronavirus pandemic that is disproportionately affecting black and brown people. And, while his peers are marching in protest, he and his fellow trainees deserve our support as they deal with their own psychic pain and prepare to steady themselves. For these psychiatrists will be called to provide care to those who will consult them once they begin to grapple with the experiences and, in some cases, traumas that have compelled them to take action and literally risk their safety and lives while protesting.

That evening, the residents were hungry for methods to fill the gaps in their training and supervision. In some cases, we provided scripts to be taken back to supervision. For example, the following is a potential scripted response for the supervisor in the enactment described above:
 

Resident speaking to supervisor: This is a black patient who, like many others, is affected by the chronic, repeated televised images of black men killed by police. I am also a black man.

I think what I have shared is pertinent to the patient’s care and my experience as a black male psychiatrist who will need to learn how to address this in my patients who are black and for other racialized groups, as well as with whites who might have rarely been cared for by a black man. Can we discuss this?

We also anticipated that some residents would need to exercise their right to request reassignment to another supervisor. And, until we do better at listening, seeing, and deepening our understanding, outside and inside the consulting room and in supervision, more residents might need to steer around those who have the potential to undermine training and adversely affect treatment. But, as a professional medical community in crisis, do we really want to proceed in such an ad hoc fashion?
 

Dr. Dunlap is a psychiatrist and psychoanalyst, and clinical professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at George Washington University. She is interested in the management of “difference” – race, gender, ethnicity, and intersectionality – in dyadic relationships and group dynamics; and the impact of racism on interpersonal relationships in institutional structures. Dr. Dunlap practices in Washington and has no disclosures.

Dr. Dennis is a clinical psychologist and psychoanalyst. Her interests are in gender and ethnic diversity, health equity, and supervision and training. Dr. Dennis practices in Washington and has no disclosures.

Dr. DeSouza is a PGY-4 psychiatry resident and public psychiatry fellow in the department of psychiatry at Yale University, New Haven, Conn. Her professional interests include health services development and delivery in low- and middle-income settings, as well as the intersection of mental health and spirituality. She has no disclosures.

Dr. Isom is a staff psychiatrist at the Codman Square Health Center in Dorchester, Mass., and Boston Medical Center. Her interests include racial mental health equity and population health approaches to community psychiatry. She has no disclosures.

Dr. Mathis is an addictions fellow in the department of psychiatry at Yale University and former programwide chief resident at Yale. Her interests include the intersection of racial justice and mental health, health equity, and spirituality. She has no disclosures.

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18. National Medical Association position statement on police use of force. NMA 2016.

19. “APA and NMA jointly condemn systemic racism in America.” 2020 Jun 16.

20. APA Strategic Plan. 2015 Mar.