Unmasking Strength: Black Men's Health and the Role of Future Physicians

Published February 24, 2025

Inside OME

By Samuel Ogunbode, OMS II, William Carey University College of Osteopathic Medicine

As an athlete, I figured one of the most valuable traits a person could have was the ability to take a hit, get hurt and still “shake it off.” The more competitive I became in sports, the more this mentality became ingrained in me, my teammates and my community of brothers. Nursing your wounds was almost a sign of weakness, and strength was displayed through stoicism and endurance.

Fast forward to more than 60 failed attempts at matriculating into medical school over four years, and the “shake it off” mentality started to run its course for me. Some pain couldn’t be masked, and it wasn’t until that period that I realized pain can be a useful warning signal to seek help. Having resilience while acknowledging areas that needed attention was something I had to learn, and I was blessed to have Black male physician mentors like Dr. Jeremy Daigle and Dr. Charles Black to help me do so.

Unfortunately, many Black men don’t reach this realization. I’ve witnessed men in my family and community conform to the pressure of “strength” and avoid going to the doctor, seeing it as a sign of weakness rather than prioritizing their health. I’ve seen conditions go untreated and health outcomes worsen, all in the name of being “tough.” I’m sure this experience is not unique to just me. Also, various studies show that Black men have some of the worst health outcomes in the United States, in part because of a deeply ingrained mistrust of the medical system and the cultural expectation to be unshakable.

As Black History Month comes to a close, we should continue to celebrate the countless milestones and accomplishments of Black figures who shape our world today. But we should also use this time for reflection, especially those of us in medicine. Black men don’t have to be strong 24/7, and as future physicians, we have a responsibility to make healthcare a space where they don’t feel like they have to be. For this reason, I wanted to take action beyond just raising awareness. I recorded and directed a video with my fellow Black male classmates and Dr. Kerry Scott, who has been a great mentor to us, to highlight the importance of representation and encourage more Black men to pursue this path. This project is very meaningful to me and it's a reminder that advocacy doesn’t just happen in the clinic—conversations, visibility and a commitment to change are all crucial factors.

It all starts in medical school. We’re taught about diseases that disproportionately affect Black men, for example prostate cancer and cardiovascular disease, but are we learning how to communicate with Black men in a way that makes them feel safe enough to disclose their symptoms? Are we learning how to listen without judgment? Are we being trained to recognize how cultural expectations might impact their willingness to seek care? These questions matter. Strength and dignity are highly valued traits among Black men and the idea of losing them, even in a medical setting, can be unsettling. If we, as medical students, don’t learn how to meet Black men where they are, we risk contributing to the very disparities we claim to want to fix.

During my time in medical school, I’ve realized that being a good physician isn’t just about understanding physiology, diagnosing and treating. Being a good physician is about creating an environment where patients feel comfortable enough to tell the truth about what they’re going through and are reassured of their strength as they do so. This means challenging the stereotypes of strength that have been passed down for generations and actively working to change the narrative.

So as we celebrate Black History Month, let’s not only honor the past but also commit to shaping a better future—one where Black men feel safe and strengthened in prioritizing their health and where we, as future physicians, are equipped to support them in doing so.