Elizabeth Blackwell. Does this name sound familiar to you? No? I didn't think so. Well, it's me and I think that it's time to tell the world my story. I was born in England, but because of my dad's work, we had to move to the United States. Everything was so different there.
When my feet touched the American floor, a breeze of hope caressed my face. I felt like I could have a chance, that I could try and build the life I wanted. Since I came into this world, society hasn't stopped reminding me what being a woman means: nothing. Many women were okay with it, but I wasn’t and instead of obeying and sitting down again, I stood up even stronger and decided to chase my dreams of being a doctor. While we were going to our new home, I could see some women working. I couldn´t believe it. But what surprised me more was that there were other women and even some men supporting them. That, not only gave me strength, but gave me the braveness to take the reins of my life. My dad, astonished and kind of amazed by the idea, decided to be one of the supporters. He started to be an active work on the abolitionist movement. Therefore, discussions at home were about liberal topics such as women's rights, slavery, and child labour.
These hare-brained ideas for our epoch made my parents realize that they wanted their kids to have the best education and the most important thing is that no matter what our sex was they were supporting us. For me, my dream of practicing medicine was everything so I had to isolate myself from society for chasing it. I had private tutors and developed myself the maximum I could. When my father died, we were in an unfortunate economic situation, so I became a teacher. I worked until I thought I had enough money for my medical school expenses. I remember those nights reading and studying medical books from Reverend J. Dickson, who happened to have been a physician before he became a clergyman.
This didn't last forever, so I enquired into the possibility of studying medicine via letters but as you can imagine, I never had a response. I moved to big cities like New York with the hope of getting into a medical school, but the best I got was private study sessions with Dr. Elder, one of the doctors of Philadelphia´s medical school. Many physicians told me to go to Paris and study there, taking up a disguise as a man. But my answer was an easy NO. So, I started searching and finally I got accepted in Geneva Medical School in 1847 thanks to the young men in a 150 men class. Those cold winter days on campus reminded me that the leaves of the trees were not the only thing that died frozen. I was alone and I felt that I was out of my place, and that’s why in the summer I went back to Philadelphia with Dr. Elder to try and get some opportunities to gain clinical experience.
After years of work, tears and effort, I did it and today I look back and see my journey and I just have to say thank you to the ones that believed in me. Thank you to the ones that didn't let society and stereotypes trample on them. To the scared Elizabeth that I have always tried to avoid: Yes, you are a woman and you should be proud of it. Stand up and show the world that medicine doesn’t have a sex, science and working is for everyone. The darker the path gets, the more you have to shine.