A Humbled Living Legend

Recently, I was honored to receive the Living Legend Award, given to me by the premiere nursing organization, the American Academy of Nursing, whose members are considered the movers and shakers, the policy makers, the knowledge developers, the top clinicians and the preeminent health care leaders in the world. Receiving this award from such a distinguished group was definitely a career highlight and a memorable moment. I was particularly honored to share the stage with other honored Living Legends who are visionary and transformative.

Those who nominated me, Azita Emami, Sandra Weiss, Nancy Woods, along with Living Legends, Claire Fagin and Angela McBride, are not only the leaders of the leaders who have made a transformative impact on our discipline, but they are also my dear friends. I continue to be enriched by their personal and professional presence in my life.

I give a great deal of credit to where I am now to my legendary husband, Mahmoud Meleis, to whom I owe more than any words can express.  An Egyptian born husband who thought he knew what was ahead when we fell in love during University of Alexandria summer camp, but had no idea what he got himself into when we got married. 50 years later he is still trying to figure it out.

I also want to acknowledge our wonderful sons, Waleed and Sherief, and their wives, Paula and Deena, who are busy managing their careers and their five children’s many activities, but on their behalf and representing all of them, Sherief came to share the celebration. Thank you Sherief.

When I got the news about this special award, a quick tape of my career journey rolled through, with events and people who were instrumental in shaping it.

I kept coming back to the question, what if?

What if I did not take a risk and enter the brand new, first baccalaureate program in nursing in the Middle East, Africa and Europe at the University of Alexandria?

What if Rockefeller Foundation did not invest in nurses in developing countries, and what if I did not receive a Rockefeller scholarship to come to this country for graduate education, which taught me the value of financial support for the have nots?

What if my loving and protective parents and my one and only sister, Maissa, did not let me leave Egypt and sacrifice not seeing me for 10 years, contending to hear my voice over the phone every six months, because of their belief in the value of education?

What if Agnes O’Leary, my UCLA advisor, did not insist on a summer internship that included Kentucky frontier nursing services, a Santa Fe Hispanic clinic, among other innovative programs, which made me passionate about equitable access?

What if Gamal Abdel Nasser was not the President of Egypt? We definitely would not have made this country our home. I would not have learnt about the challenges for immigrants and for becoming bicultural.

What if Burton Meyer, Ralph Turner and Frank Sooy did not invest the time, energy and effort in mentoring me in research, theory and leadership?

What if Lulu Wolf Hassenplug did not proactively recruit me to teach at UCLA, but insisted that before she hires me, I must interview and get offers elsewhere?

I would not have had the privilege to know and learn from Luther Christman and Martha Rogers, who became a dear friend until she passed.

What if Dorothy Johnson did not ask me to teach her first theory course in the country, through which with my students we discovered the silos in which theorists, researchers and practitioners lived?

What if my best friend Sadia, who was the daughter of the doorman, was not sent away by her loving family to get married at the tender age of 12 and I never saw her again?

What if women from so many cultures did not share with me their life narratives, which included oppression, subjugation, as well as resilience and inner power – which made me passionate about empowering women?

What if I didn’t have the privilege and opportunity to learn about scholarship, citizenship and leadership from many distinguished colleagues at UCLA, at UCSF, at Penn and dozens of other universities, which made me a staunch supporter of different types of scholarships?

What if I was not nominated for this organization (American Academy of Nursing) almost 40 years ago and become engaged in issues that are dear to my heart with so many accomplished colleagues?

Each and every one of these events and people was instrumental in providing me with the intellectual tools and the confidence to do what I did. They inspired, challenged and supported me.

So what if?  My answer is quick and simple. I would not have enjoyed the privileges of becoming an American citizen, voiced and free to speak my mind, and, I would not have enjoyed being welcomed into so many hearts, homes, universities and organizations.

But also, I would not have experienced disadvantages and the lack of privilege as a minority immigrant woman from a developing country who never lost her accent, who was marginalized at times, excluded at others, because of gender, heritage, and more recently, probably for my religion.  I would not have painfully learnt about prejudice, embraced those profoundly transformative experiences, owned them and transcended them.

My colleagues, members of AAN, as well as those in other organizations, have been instrumental in the positive outcomes of this journey.

But there is one particular group of people to whom I owe much to what I became and what I have achieved.  They are my mentees.  They also did not know what they got themselves into!  These mentees never exceeded my expectations, but they definitely exceeded my capacity. They became the leaders and the movers and shakers around the world.

What if I did not mentor this remarkable group of scholars and leaders? Sandra Weiss, Azita Emani, Kathy Drecup, Marianne Hattar-Pollara, Deanne Messias, Marty Douglas, Pat Stevens, Joanne Hall, Siriorn Sindhu, Ameporn Ratinthorn, Eun-Ok Im, Alice Reizrian, Doris Schaeffer, Karen Schumacher Naomi Seboni, Pat Jones, Maria O’Rourke, Chris Coleman, Pilar Bernal, Jude Spiers, Paulina Van, Diana Jennings, among many more around the world.

They have been the sages in my stage and I have been the guide on the side and I truly believe I am only on this stage because their stardom is shining on me. I am privileged to have them in my life as colleagues and dear friends.

I am honored and humbled and I will enjoy this L.L. until I become a D.L., a dead legend.

A Muslim Nurse for President?

I always assumed I could not be president of this country because I have 3 strikes against me. I am a naturalized citizen, a women, and I am “just a nurse.” But recently, I discovered I have a fourth strike against me – I am also a Muslim, though a nonpracticing one. I never thought that my religion had anything to do with politics, and I never considered the religion of candidates a variable when hiring, voting, reviewing or evaluating students, faculty, administrators or politicians. Why would I, when the reason I immigrated to this country was to practice freedom, to celebrate diversity, to honor equity and to deepen my learning!

The recent dialogue regarding religion, specifically about Muslims, the generalizations uttered about who Muslims are, and what they can and cannot do, is most disturbing! What if a negative view of religion became a factor for how to care for patients, how to teach students, how to hire staff, or, how to relate to people in general? Knowing a person’s religion should be a positive force to honor different beliefs, food preferences and celebrations - but it should never, never be used as negative rhetoric for voting against an individual. Or, so I always thought, studied and acted, until these recent dialogues by those who are vying for the highest public office in this country. A true embarrassment!

Just like gender inequities drove my passion to be a voice for women, and, to work wherever I went on strategies for equity and justice, and just like seeing how women’s work was devalued, degraded, undercompensated and marginalized ignited my passion to find ways to insure that women’s work is justly valued, compensated and celebrated; perhaps all this negative press that discriminately includes all Muslims, the good, the bad and the indifferent, will drive a new passion for me to be a voice for Muslims and for Islam. Generalizations are suspect, and speaking of all Muslims and of Islam in the same breath as terrorism is dead wrong! To have this constitutionally unfounded dialogue about how we cannot have a Muslim as a president just adds to our long established prejudices that we cannot have a woman as president, a Catholic as president or a black as president.

It is time to confront and shed all of these unfounded, disrespectful and hurtful stereotypical generalizations that do nothing but derail more productive conversations about how to make all Americans work and produce up to their full capacity, based on their education and our country’s work ethics.

I know I still will not become president of this country, first and foremost based on our constitution (I am a naturalized citizen), and I also know I am not qualified because of my life experiences, preparation and talents, but not because I am a women or a Muslim. Islam has never been a strong part of my identity as an Egyptian American nurse, but, just as gender became a strong driver in my work, voice and advocacy, perhaps now Islam will as well. Becoming a voice for marginalized populations has always been one of my deep-seated passions and a major component of my identity, and recent rhetoric targeted at millions of Americans who are Muslims has positioned them as a vulnerable and marginalized population.

And by the way, the Muslim world is celebrating Eid-al-Adha. Let’s wish them/us happy and peaceful years ahead. And may the spirit and the teachings of this incredible, global Pope, who advocates for justice, equity, inclusiveness and sustainability, provide the antidote for the divisive rhetoric promulgated by some in our country.