I had arrived a few minutes before clinic and was looking through the panoramic windows of the hospital’s newest wing. Staring at the expanse before me, I recognized a solitary attic window. It was a familiar sight because I had spent my childhood in that attic, living with my parents and often visited by the rats and roaches, our unwanted guests. Growing up, I spent hours watching the hospital through that attic window. Never did it cross my young mind, that years later, I would be staring back from the hospital, with a stethoscope around my neck. I was standing in a position of privilege, distanced from my former self by the education and socioeconomic capital I now possess. Before entering medicine, “privilege” was not a word I used much in conversation. High school was the last time I talked about privilege. Privilege means to have advantages in society by virtue of belonging to a certain group. To be of a certain ethnicity, to be educated, to be part of a ...
