The ER Doctor Didn’t Believe I Was Her Mother.

Then things Got Worse.

“Hola” the Target employee said as she grinned to my then 2-year-old, expecting her to respond back in Spanish. After a cursory glance at me, widening eyes, and a hurried half-smile back, she quickly realized that even though my daughter’s skin matched hers, she wasn’t Hispanic. Situations like this happen a lot actually. So frequently in fact that my daughter began to learn Spanish on her own so that she could play and communicate with other kids that might approach her at the playground and think she looks like them. And truly I love it. Typically, they’re harmless. My daughter’s brown skin is beautiful, and her heart is kind.

My husband is black, and our four children are biracial. With that family dynamic comes a set of challenges that I admit I wasn’t prepared for before becoming a parent. But experiencing racism and discrimination over the years has shaped me. It’s opened my eyes to a reality that I didn’t understand before. And while there’s a spectrum spanning harmless mistakes to full on hatred, for the most part, we feel safe in our community. But it’s no secret that the new administration has racists feeling emboldened in their brazenness. After 47’s inauguration, it started with a little boy calling my oldest daughter the N word, threatening her, and making her fearful to the point that she didn’t want to go to school. We handled things with the admin and her teachers. But even the child noted that his parents wouldn’t care. They’d know he was “just joking.” But since that we’ve been going through the motions, taking care of each other, and ensuring that our home is respite from the increasing craziness of the world.

Last week I picked up my daughter from school in the middle of the school day. She experienced a severe asthma attack in the middle of class. She followed her action plan and began nebulizer treatments with the nurse. After sitting with her in the nurse’s office and evaluating her symptoms and sats, I decided to take her to the closest ER for treatment. Asthma is not new to us. We’ve spent weeks in the PICU, and we know to err on the side of safety. The ER closest to her school is only a few stoplights away, so it made the most sense. And while the children’s hospital in the city is our first choice, we use this local ER when we need to. After getting her checked in, they saw her quickly and the tell-tale signs of respiratory distress were visible. She wheezed through tight chested breaths with pale flesh around her mouth. She needed oxygen. Which is why it didn’t register at first, the thing that happened next.

The attending doctor had a calm demeanor when he entered her room, but a strange lilt to his voice. He began by directing his questions to my elementary school aged daughter. But in the middle of an asthma attack, she couldn’t speak. When I answered on her behalf, his tone shifted towards suspicion. When he addressed me, “Oh are you family?” I responded yes. This was strange because I told the nurses who triaged her at the check in desk that I was her mother, and all of her insurance information was already in the system. She’s been treated here before. When he asked “Who, exactly?” He didn’t believe me when I said I was her mom. He then asked for proof of my relationship to her. Alarms bells began sounding in my brain. And when I asked what he needed that for, he said “to verify her citizenship.”

Now let’s pause for just a hot little second.

*This is a minor in the middle of a medical emergency. *

I identified her as a high-risk asthma patient in the middle of an asthma attack upon arrival. I identified myself as her mother upon arrival. My ten-year-old was visibly distressed and in obvious need of medical attention. We are literally in the ER.

My daughter was in the middle of a medical emergency, but the doctor wanted to verify her citizenship before treating her.

My daughter is an American citizen.

After that, icy rage filtered over me. I am a hospital chaplain with a different healthcare system. I’m trained in trauma and crisis care. I am involved in immigration spaces I know the law in the state of Georgia. Since November I’ve partnered with immigration experts and faith leaders nationwide as we figure out what it looks like to care for the vulnerable when ICE enters sensitive locations. But I’ll be honest, in my wildest dreams I never would have imagined that I would come that close to experiencing something like that firsthand.

Thankfully, my child was so out of it that she didn’t realize what was happening. Thankfully I was able to prove who I was (even though that was already well documented).

Thankfully other staff members on the floor know us well, remembered us, and stuck close by after I told them what happened. They offered encouragement and support.

But I couldn’t help but think “What if?” What if we were a mixed status family? What if my info wasn’t in the system? What if What if What if? What if a child died because a doctor wanted to out a minor to ICE more than he wanted to treat a child for an emergency?

My daughter was finally treated for her asthma attack. She was discharged later that day. And I’ll admit, I don’t feel safe returning to that hospital ever again.

Because I didn’t just feel my own fear. I felt the fear of millions of mothers who are scared of this unhinged regime that is more interested in stoking terror in immigrant communities than loving their neighbors.

And while the White House social media accounts incite jeers with their crass degradation of migrants, and Facebook apologists with a sixth grade reading level spout Fox News flavored talking points about “law and order” (no offense to sixth graders), I’m just furious. I’m furious that white supremacy feels so emboldened to weaponize their hatred in such vile ways. And when the president posts Napoleon quotes that function as dog whistles giving the green light for racists to act first and act questions later, I’ll admit, the next four years aren’t looking great.

Now, some of y’all are more interested in the tea, and I promise my lawyer is on it 😊

But here’s the deal: The changes to sensitive locations are real and significant.

Churches, hospitals, and classrooms should be safe. period. And while unfortunately some states do require proof of citizenship to be treated in the ER Georgia doesn’t. And while some states are placing bounties on the heads of migrants, Georgia isn’t. But this administration is sowing so much chaos and fear at such a rapid rate, that the states’ rights proponents don’t seem to care much about the invisible lines when it comes to the limits of their vitriol.

And maybe in your all white super Christian upper middle-class bubble, you don’t see it firsthand. Maybe the friction isn’t a part of your lived experience day in and day out. Maybe you aren’t regularly proximate to people who look, vote, and think differently than you. I didn’t before my family wasn’t white.

But the reality is that NO family deserves to feel unsafe when they’re facing a medical emergency.

Lifesaving treatment matters more than proper paperwork, full stop.

All people are made in the image of God worthy of dignity and care.

___________

So, pretend that family in the ER isn’t me and my biracial daughter experiencing a case of misplaced racism.

Imagine it’s an undocumented child, gasping for air. Imagine that you’re the one with the power in the room to hook a struggling child up to oxygen. You’re pro-life, right? Do you treat the child, or do you need to see papers first?

Do you help or do you hesitate?

Remember, Georgia isn’t Texas. Treating an undocumented child isn’t even against the law.

Crazy, right? How we’ve found ourselves here. Protecting our children from enemies that swore a Hippocratic oath to do no harm.

The intersection of xenophobia, racism, paired with some smug misogyny and ableism is whiplashy enough- especially in the middle of an emergency situation.

This world is breaking my heart right now. As we speak, the white house is posting ASMR videos of deportations, valentines vilifying migrants, and AI generated portraits of a president donning a crown.

Places that are supposed to feel safe are scary.

People that are supposed to be the healers are choosing harm.

This is the state of things.

I’m scared for us.