Legacy
I was recently named the Chief Clinical Operations Officer at Jericho Road Community Health Center, but I have actually been working here as a Nurse Practitioner for the past 15 years. Over that time, I have watched us grow from one small family practice on the West Side of Buffalo, to a community health center with five clinical sites across the city and several social programs.
When our first clinic on the East Side opened, I walked the neighborhoods nearby and knocked on doors to invite people to get their medical care from us. It was and very much still is an area ravaged by segregation, disinvestment, and poverty. At Jericho Road, we have always been dedicated to caring for our most vulnerable neighbors, but our neighbors on the East Side are especially vulnerable due to an intersection of systems that culminate in them having shorter lifespans than our White or wealthier neighbors in other parts of the city.
This past November, I joined a team of Jericho Road leaders in Montgomery, Alabama to witness and learn from Equal Justice Initiative’s Legacy Museum, Memorial to Peace and Justice, and Freedom Monument Sculpture Park.
At the museum, the connection between slavery and mass incarceration became hauntingly clear. I think the most compelling part was at the end, picking up the phone to speak to the incarcerated people. All of my uncles have been incarcerated. Growing up, I visited prisons all the time. It was so normal, a natural way for an eight or nine-year-old girl to visit her uncle. So, as I was sitting there in the museum, it literally took me back to when I was a little girl, visiting my uncle who was serving life. This time, it was eye opening to see how our history has gotten to this specific point. I understand that experience differently now.
The memorial is dedicated to the thousands of Black folks who were victims of terror lynching. The stories about “why” someone was lynched, and how recently they occurred, were mind blowing.
At the end of the sculpture park, there is this huge wall that lists the last names of people who were freed from slavery. I found my maiden name and my current last name, as well. I will never know who I am outside of “Rogers” or “Leonard.” That was not my ancestors’ identity when they were kidnapped, brought to this country, and forced into slavery for centuries. That is heartbreaking for me to think about but the only way we can move forward is to teach our children, invest in our communities, and advocate.
These three spaces spoke so loud, without saying a word. All you had to do was walk and read.
To realize the intentional way that these systems were designed to oppress a particular group of people, it was devastating. But I didn’t stay there, in that sad state, it compelled me, and all of us, to act. It put us on notice: we have to do something.
This month, I am bringing my husband and our five boys to EJI. There is no way you can go through life as a black or brown person and not know the extent to which this stuff happens.
Recently my seventeen-year-old son came home with a ticket for our license plate being dirty. I knew that wasn’t possible, so I took a picture of it that day. He plead “not guilty” and then we went to court to fight it.
After we explained the situation, the clerk said it was likely one of three scenarios: (1) my son might have been speeding, the officer only caught it visually and couldn’t track it, so he wrote the ticket for something else. My son was adamant that he was not speeding. (2) The license plate was dirty (I said it wasn’t and showed him the picture). (3) My son was pulled over because he was Black and driving down Transit Road in Clarence (a very wealthy, mostly white, suburb).
The clerk then went on to say that he was absolutely going to dismiss the ticket. He was apologetic. But really, he did the thing that was in his control, and that is all we can ask of people. He dismissed the ticket because he knew it was wrong.
Seeing my Black patients on the East Side die younger, watching my sons experience this country as young Black men, and growing up with so many of my loved-ones being incarcerated, has made me understand the our present is still very much connected to our past history of slavery, segregation, and terror-lynching. I am determined to do something about it.
Jericho Road is stepping up, we are not backing down, we are advocating for systemic change. This is the most amazing feeling I have had in my 15 years here.
Part of this systemic change is happening in our summer internship program—Empowering and Mentoring in Medicine (EMIM). Each year we accept about a dozen high schoolers interested in pursuing a career in medicine. These young people come from diverse backgrounds and many live in the neighborhoods around our East Side clinics. We are able to pay the students for their time with us and they get a range of experiences—from family practice, to hospital rounds, to time with social workers.
After their time with us, not only can they dream bigger, but they also have access to mentors who can help them along the way. This is just one way we can change the system to make sure that everyone can access the education and career paths that they want to enter.
I am dreaming of a day when the people who work in our medical field look like the patients they care for.
-Dr. Takesha Leonard, EdD, FNP-BC, PMHNP-BC, Chief Clinical Operations Officer
