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To help women, we must tell our stories. Mine starts with my grandmother.

My grandmother, by telling me her story, showed me to work hard to achieve my goals for my life, then to support others to achieve theirs.

The author's grandmother, Thankamma Chacko, in 1944, getting her PhD.
The author's grandmother, Thankamma Chacko, in 1944, getting her PhD.Read moreCourtesy the author

The theme for 2023′s Women’s History Month is “Celebrating Women Who Tell Our Stories.” This resonates deeply with me.

As a first-generation American, daughter of immigrants from India, I have had the luxury of hearing the stories of my ancestors, spanning centuries, all my life. But my origin story, the story of me, begins with my grandmother, Dr. Thankamma Chacko.

Mummy, as we called her, was a professor with a Ph.D. in zoology, encouraged first by her father, a lawyer in the southern Indian state of Kerala, and then by her husband, my grandfather, to pursue the highest levels of education and training available to her.

As a young woman, she traveled alone by ship from India to Europe — a journey that took weeks — for a postdoctoral fellowship and research in England and Holland. She taught and ran a lab at New Science College in Hyderabad, authored scientific research articles, and edited multiple editions of a zoology textbook that was used by a generation of pre-university students in the state of Andhra Pradesh.

I came to know my grandmother best in her retirement. When I traveled to India as a child, I was immersed in my grandparents’ commitment to service. I periodically attended a small school they had built for the children of the village of Kothala. I spent evenings helping with the sewing school and educational classes my grandmother created for the women of the village. I watched as Mummy helped elevate and broaden the potential and opportunity of women, girls, and the community as a whole.

It was my first lesson in trying to address disparity and work for equity. But that was not the only thing I learned. My grandmother, by telling me her story, showed me to work hard to achieve my goals for my life, then to support others to achieve theirs. I am the product of many stories.

But is telling her story, and those of other women who have inspired us, enough?

» READ MORE: Why I’m leaving the ER | Expert Opinion

In March 2019, there was an explosion of essays, op-eds, and articles across media outlets telling the stories of women in health care, and the disparities they face. It was a concerted play to bring national attention to the birth of Time’s Up Healthcare, an organization fighting gender discrimination and sexual harassment in medicine. Some efforts had come before, like FeminEM and #Shemergency, but Time’s Up Healthcare seemed the pinnacle, in terms of reach, star power, and glitz — punctuated by a group picture with Gloria Steinem. Now, four years later, all that’s left is a palpable silence.

For some of us, this is simply more of the same.

We can’t just talk about gender inequality without acknowledging inequalities based on other factors, such as race, sexuality, and economics. Stories about “women” as a homogenous group risk further marginalizing those who don’t fit the dominant group narrative.

As the Supreme Court determines the future of affirmative action, it’s notable that the policy has benefited white women the most. The court’s decision to reverse Roe v. Wade affects all women, but disproportionately impacts low-income Black and brown women. Even within the monolithic moniker of “women of color,” there are marked differences in gender pay gaps, mortality rates, and life expectancy among races and ethnicities. I am fully aware of my relative privilege as an Asian — specifically South Asian — American in these regards.

I attended the Healthcare Business Women’s Association annual conference in Philadelphia in November, where we discussed preliminary data on advances of women in the life science workforce. Since #metoo and the murder of George Floyd, white women had greater gains in terms of promotions, pay increases, and leadership roles. I’ve observed the same in medicine.

To be clear, the overwhelming majority of women who have advanced in medicine are not only highly deserving of their promotions, but often merited them years earlier. Unfortunately, there are also women who speak and write about gender disparity while turning a blind eye to the women of color struggling in front of them, or who stand on public stages with designer T-shirts emblazoned with the word FEMINIST, yet verbally threaten other women when they think no one is looking.

The success of some women is not necessarily an equal win for all women. They must also use their position and power to recognize how gender and race intersect, and help address it through understanding, empathy, and sponsorship. I am so lucky to know many women like this. Their stories are told through their actions, not just their words, and through their behaviors and beliefs, not just their public personas.

The success of some women is not necessarily an equal win for all women.

My grandmother was born a century ago. She came of age during India’s independence movement. I never asked or understood how this period of history affected her directly, how she may have assimilated the struggles and determination around her. Mummy did not preach lessons — she lived them and taught us by example.

In being a courageous traveler, she showed us that the world would always be within our reach, and we belonged anywhere we chose to be. By reaching the pinnacle of her profession, she showed us what hard work and dedication could accomplish, even when the odds are stacked against you and the path you forge may be uncharted. By reaching a hand out to those in need — and especially to build and change the system to allow everyone the opportunity to thrive — she demonstrated that this was not a choice, but a duty for the privilege we have. She showed us how to advocate for ourselves and others through honesty and courage. She did all of this until the moment of her death on Dec. 16 at the age of 99.

In Philadelphia, the birthplace of our nation, the walls of many of our buildings are lined with portraits reflecting the homogenous forefathers. But there are so many other stories to tell. The portraits of my personal history hang on walls all over the world. The dominant portrait, in the center of it all, belongs to Dr. Thankamma Chacko. I carry those stories with me.

Priya E. Mammen, MD, MPH is an emergency physician and public health specialist. She is senior medicine director of clinical integrity and a fellow of the Lindy Institute of Urban Innovation.