I recently had the pleasure of speaking with Ryan Mayock, a second year medical student at Albany Medical College. During our conversation his thoughtful point of view and deep interest in global health quickly became clear. Ryan gives tremendous weight to complex but crucial issues such as privilege and history and is driven in large part by the human connection that is part of the experience when practicing medicine in the global context
I asked him to write about how he sees global health and this is the result. Here is Ryan's story.
Over the following weeks, I returned time and time again to this behemoth in attempt to tame and distill it, but I found myself unwilling to sacrifice nuance in favor of a more approachable piece. Proper discussion of a global field requires concordant discussions of culture, politics, privilege and history... a set of topics large enough to encompass every element of humanity, and certainly something I could never pin down. Then, it came to me – you can’t tell the story of global health without telling the story of our common humanity. The most meaningful words I could offer were those attempting to bridge the gaps between us, attempting to demonstrate that we are far more alike than we could ever be different.
We are raised to believe the world fundamentally changes once we step across our border, imagining that all bets are off, that different countries contain different people with different ideals and different ways of understanding the world. While this is true, I’ve found it is not a fundamentally different exercise than venturing into an unknown realm of any sort. Leaving Seattle for school on the East Coast was as much of an adventure as any trip I’ve ever taken. I’ve also had experiences similar to going abroad right here at home. How could it be that I feel like I’ve stepped into a new culture without ever leaving the city I live in?
The answer lies in the fact we tend to take a fairly simplistic view of culture, relegating its significance only to the areas where it manifests as part of race, religion, and nationality. The reality is that culture is much more complex than that, and our identity is rooted in countless invisible diversities. Surely we all can think of someone we interact with regularly whose worldview is completely different than ours. Is this not a distinction between cultures? If such distinctions are so easily found, how can we return to such simplistic explanations of what we are when we leave our borders?
I do not believe in a unified theory of identity. I do not believe you can qualitatively describe differences between people in a way that has meaning beyond the individual observer. I believe, simply, that there are things we either understand or do not understand. What I have found in my travels is that cultural exchange begets understanding, which in turn begets compassion. In all parts of the world, people have opinions about groups they have not deeply interacted with. Insecurity over the unknown is only human. In all parts of the world, those opinions almost always change when they become close to someone with differing views.
Once those gaps are bridged and we form relationships with people of different worldviews, we realize that the things which make us alike far outweigh any other aspect of culture. Laying out precisely why this happens is a more difficult task, one I’ve struggled with for years. I am hesitant to bring discussion by political figures into a public forum, but President Obama laid the answer out elegantly and bare: “Justice grows out of recognition of ourselves in each other.” This recognition occurs over time, and is an active and clumsy process. This recognition is the heart of human connection.
The sum of my experience tells me this connection is everything. It helps us to understand where we fit in the lives of others. Perhaps just as importantly, awareness of it allows us to be conscious of influences which run contrary to it. It gives us an answer when people ask “why not here?” It helps us begin to explain how we can be a positive force in a place others may view as completely foreign in values and customs. Above all, it keeps conversations focused on what matters most: the communities and patients we serve.
About Ryan:
Ryan Mayock is a second-year medical student at Albany Medical College. He hails from the Northwest, and has interned abroad in Ecuador, Kenya, SE Asia, and India. He served on the boards of several Seattle-based NGOs, including work as an internship director for students headed to Kenya. The Dalai Lama poked fun at him once.
I asked him to write about how he sees global health and this is the result. Here is Ryan's story.
The Art of Global Health
P. Ryan Mayock
Several months ago I sat down to what I thought would be a fairly simple task – to put together a few paragraphs discussing global health from my point of view. I budgeted some time, as medical students will, to ensure I could construct something fairly polished for public presentation. As I began to write, however, I was taken aback by how difficult it was to summarize my views. A paragraph became a page, and a single page became twenty.Over the following weeks, I returned time and time again to this behemoth in attempt to tame and distill it, but I found myself unwilling to sacrifice nuance in favor of a more approachable piece. Proper discussion of a global field requires concordant discussions of culture, politics, privilege and history... a set of topics large enough to encompass every element of humanity, and certainly something I could never pin down. Then, it came to me – you can’t tell the story of global health without telling the story of our common humanity. The most meaningful words I could offer were those attempting to bridge the gaps between us, attempting to demonstrate that we are far more alike than we could ever be different.
We are raised to believe the world fundamentally changes once we step across our border, imagining that all bets are off, that different countries contain different people with different ideals and different ways of understanding the world. While this is true, I’ve found it is not a fundamentally different exercise than venturing into an unknown realm of any sort. Leaving Seattle for school on the East Coast was as much of an adventure as any trip I’ve ever taken. I’ve also had experiences similar to going abroad right here at home. How could it be that I feel like I’ve stepped into a new culture without ever leaving the city I live in?
The answer lies in the fact we tend to take a fairly simplistic view of culture, relegating its significance only to the areas where it manifests as part of race, religion, and nationality. The reality is that culture is much more complex than that, and our identity is rooted in countless invisible diversities. Surely we all can think of someone we interact with regularly whose worldview is completely different than ours. Is this not a distinction between cultures? If such distinctions are so easily found, how can we return to such simplistic explanations of what we are when we leave our borders?
I do not believe in a unified theory of identity. I do not believe you can qualitatively describe differences between people in a way that has meaning beyond the individual observer. I believe, simply, that there are things we either understand or do not understand. What I have found in my travels is that cultural exchange begets understanding, which in turn begets compassion. In all parts of the world, people have opinions about groups they have not deeply interacted with. Insecurity over the unknown is only human. In all parts of the world, those opinions almost always change when they become close to someone with differing views.
Once those gaps are bridged and we form relationships with people of different worldviews, we realize that the things which make us alike far outweigh any other aspect of culture. Laying out precisely why this happens is a more difficult task, one I’ve struggled with for years. I am hesitant to bring discussion by political figures into a public forum, but President Obama laid the answer out elegantly and bare: “Justice grows out of recognition of ourselves in each other.” This recognition occurs over time, and is an active and clumsy process. This recognition is the heart of human connection.
The sum of my experience tells me this connection is everything. It helps us to understand where we fit in the lives of others. Perhaps just as importantly, awareness of it allows us to be conscious of influences which run contrary to it. It gives us an answer when people ask “why not here?” It helps us begin to explain how we can be a positive force in a place others may view as completely foreign in values and customs. Above all, it keeps conversations focused on what matters most: the communities and patients we serve.
About Ryan:
Ryan Mayock is a second-year medical student at Albany Medical College. He hails from the Northwest, and has interned abroad in Ecuador, Kenya, SE Asia, and India. He served on the boards of several Seattle-based NGOs, including work as an internship director for students headed to Kenya. The Dalai Lama poked fun at him once.
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