There’s a moment in every advocate’s life when silence becomes complicity. For me, that moment came and happened repeatedly in the sterile corridors of an area hospital, where I watched a friend who is elderly, and vulnerable, and in need of care, suddenly become a line item in a profit-driven system that has lost its moral compass.
But this wasn’t just about medical mismanagement. It was about race.
As a Black woman with over 30 years of experience in financial management, compliance and fiduciary oversight. I was acting as the legal representative and health-care surrogate for a dear friend — who happened to be an elderly white man I’ve known for decades. Despite presenting valid legal documentation, I was repeatedly questioned, dismissed and forced to justify our relationship. My authority was undermined. My presence was treated as suspicious. Only after bringing in my attorney did the resistance subside.
In my view, this wasn’t a misunderstanding. It was a violation of my humanity.
It’s not an isolated incident. According to a 2023 Health Affairs study, Black patients and their advocates are significantly more likely to experience skepticism, delayed care or outright dismissal in health-care settings. The American Bar Association has also documented how racial bias can undermine the authority of Black fiduciaries, especially when advocating for white clients or patients.
At this area hospital, I witnessed a cascade of failures: dismissive staff, mismanaged transitions, and a blatant disregard for patients rights. But the most painful wound was personal: the implication that my race disqualified me from being a trusted advocate for someone who has known my family for decades.
This is not just my story. It is the story of countless families and friends navigating a medical system that too often prioritizes billing codes over bedside manner, and shareholders’ returns over human outcomes. It is a system where the elderly are seen not as elders, but as revenue streams. Where the disadvantaged and those who advocate for them are treated as obstacles to profit.
As a Black woman who has managed portfolios to the tune of $1.11 billion, I’ve spent my career navigating systems that often demand we overcredential ourselves just to be heard … just to be believed. This is not OK. It is not sustainable. And it is not just.
I vow to dismantle the systems that create barriers for all people, particularly Black women — those of us who are too often asked to prove our legitimacy before we’re allowed to lead, to care, or to advocate.
To every reader who has felt powerless in the face of a broken system: you are not alone, and you are not without recourse. Know your rights. Document everything. Speak up. Share your story through op-eds, community forums or social media; your voice can help others recognize patterns and demand change.
I call on all hospital CEOs, shareholders, board members and all leadership to confront these issues with the urgency it deserves. Because when hospitals forget their purpose, it is not just a business failure — it is a moral one.
Brenda Barfield of Apopka has over 30 years of experience in financial management.
