I'd like everyone to close your eyes. Now, imagine your doctor has just told you, you have cancer. The words hit you like boulders, one by one slamming your body until it no longer feels like a body. You drive yourself home, crying, and asking yourself, why me? You get home to a concerned family, and as they ask what's wrong; you break. You fall to the ground, and with what little spirit you have left, you push the words out of your mouth into a puddle before you. The room falls silent, and your heart sinks past your stomach, to a place where it seems irretrievable. After a restless night, you start calling doctors searching for a place to begin treatment. Doctors ask you to come in, and you do. You sit in a cold, bland, overexposed room and wait for the doctor to see you. The wax paper crinkles under you as a man comes in. You shake his hand, and he starts asking you questions. After answering them all, he stands up, and tells you he has nothing to offer you. This process repeats with 2, 5, 10 doctors. When you ask the doctors why they are unable to help you, they have only one response; we are unable to service your kind here. Now, open your eyes. You just took a step into the life of Robert Eads, a transgender man who lived in Toccoa, Georgia. When Robert was diagnosed with Ovarian cancer, he sought out treatment from near by doctors. But, because of his bible belt location and the fact that his condition was diagnosed in the very beginning years of advancement in LGBTQ+ equality, all of the doctors he contacted turned him down - for the mere fear that helping him would hurt their reputation in their practice. By the time the Eads found a doctor who was willing to help him, the cancer had already taken over his body past the point of treatment. Robert Eads died on January 17, 1999 of Ovarian cancer. Southern Comfort, a documentary which followed Eads in the final year of his life, was released in 2001. This documentary showed the world through Robert Eads journey, the harsh reality that is discrimination, specifically transgender discrimination in rural areas. To me, and to most of you I'm sure, the thought of a human not being provided life-saving treatment because of the possibility of someone's pride being damaged seems unthinkable, if not illegal. We were raised on the idea of equality, and for most of us, it is not even a question, but in some parts of the world, where societal advancement seems to move in slow motion, some humans are still not treated as people. For anyone, of any race, religion, sexuality, or gender, or any other preference to be denied their life, seems more than medieval. If this same event would happened today, 15 years later, it would be world news, and result in a lawsuit for millions and a prison sentence for involuntary manslaughter. So what's to be said for those people who denied the possibility of saving Eads life? What's to be said of those doctors, who by discriminating towards an ill person, took away their chance at life? Do we blame them? It only seems logical. To need to argue, that it is wrong to deny a person of any group, in this case LGBTQ+, medical attention because of who they are seems beyond incomprehensible, yet, just a mere year ago we faced this same problem. We saw as the U.S. turned all its attention towards a law which could allow professions such as EMTs and doctors to deny a person of their service because that persons personal preference is against their religion. It seems almost inhumane, that, although there was a chance of Robert not being cured, even with treatment, a doctor could force both Eads and his loved ones to watch him slowly die of the hellacious battle for life that is cancer.
I'd like everyone to close your eyes. Now, imagine your doctor has just told you, you have cancer. The words hit you like boulders, one by one slamming your body until it no longer feels like a body. You drive yourself home, crying, and asking yourself, why me? You get home to a concerned family, and as they ask what's wrong; you break. You fall to the ground, and with what little spirit you have left, you push the words out of your mouth into a puddle before you. The room falls silent, and your heart sinks past your stomach, to a place where it seems irretrievable. After a restless night, you start calling doctors searching for a place to begin treatment. Doctors ask you to come in, and you do. You sit in a cold, bland, overexposed room and wait for the doctor to see you. The wax paper crinkles under you as a man comes in. You shake his hand, and he starts asking you questions. After answering them all, he stands up, and tells you he has nothing to offer you. This process repeats with 2, 5, 10 doctors. When you ask the doctors why they are unable to help you, they have only one response; we are unable to service your kind here. Now, open your eyes. You just took a step into the life of Robert Eads, a transgender man who lived in Toccoa, Georgia. When Robert was diagnosed with Ovarian cancer, he sought out treatment from near by doctors. But, because of his bible belt location and the fact that his condition was diagnosed in the very beginning years of advancement in LGBTQ+ equality, all of the doctors he contacted turned him down - for the mere fear that helping him would hurt their reputation in their practice. By the time the Eads found a doctor who was willing to help him, the cancer had already taken over his body past the point of treatment. Robert Eads died on January 17, 1999 of Ovarian cancer. Southern Comfort, a documentary which followed Eads in the final year of his life, was released in 2001. This documentary showed the world through Robert Eads journey, the harsh reality that is discrimination, specifically transgender discrimination in rural areas. To me, and to most of you I'm sure, the thought of a human not being provided life-saving treatment because of the possibility of someone's pride being damaged seems unthinkable, if not illegal. We were raised on the idea of equality, and for most of us, it is not even a question, but in some parts of the world, where societal advancement seems to move in slow motion, some humans are still not treated as people. For anyone, of any race, religion, sexuality, or gender, or any other preference to be denied their life, seems more than medieval. If this same event would happened today, 15 years later, it would be world news, and result in a lawsuit for millions and a prison sentence for involuntary manslaughter. So what's to be said for those people who denied the possibility of saving Eads life? What's to be said of those doctors, who by discriminating towards an ill person, took away their chance at life? Do we blame them? It only seems logical. To need to argue, that it is wrong to deny a person of any group, in this case LGBTQ+, medical attention because of who they are seems beyond incomprehensible, yet, just a mere year ago we faced this same problem. We saw as the U.S. turned all its attention towards a law which could allow professions such as EMTs and doctors to deny a person of their service because that persons personal preference is against their religion. It seems almost inhumane, that, although there was a chance of Robert not being cured, even with treatment, a doctor could force both Eads and his loved ones to watch him slowly die of the hellacious battle for life that is cancer.
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