I’m Black. I’m Untrained. And Thanks to DEI, I’m Doing Brain Surgery

This is what representation looks like—messy, powerful, and covered in blood. When the system says 'no,' DEI says 'you go, king.'

I never thought becoming a brain surgeon could be so easy. But it was, thanks to DEI.

I had no surgery experience – I failed biology and couldn’t dissect a frog without mangling it into a sad, green blob. But I am Black, and that’s all that matters, according to conservative influencers.

After listening to right-wing podcasters talk about how Black people can easily rise to the top despite being unqualified, I figured I’d give it a shot.

I marched into my nearest hospital and informed the clerk I was ready to become a surgeon and I wouldn’t take “no” for an answer.

She politely informed me that this is not how it works. I asked whether she noticed the color of my skin or if she just thought I had a nice tan.

That worked.

She immediately called the chief surgeon, and I found myself in a room with Dr. Doris Eleanor Irvine, who was very glad to see me.

“We’ve had a shortage of brain surgeons because we stopped hiring white people,” she explained. “But you look like you’re a perfect fit for this job!”

I informed her I had never been to medical school and didn’t plan to – ever.

“Oh, that’s okay,” she said. “Medical school is a product of white supremacy used to oppress the Blacks.”

Just like that, I had a job. Apparently, Tucker Carlson was right.

Dr. Irvine told me not to bother submitting a resume. Instead, gave HR a paper on which I wrote, “Experience: 44 years as an oppressed Black man in America.”

“You don’t have any experience,” the HR representative said. Irvine was livid. “How DARE you question this Black man’s qualifications, you racist whore,” she screamed. The representative was promptly fired and canceled on social media.

I participated in several DEI-themed presentations, such as “How to Treat Terminal Whiteness,” “Healing Through Antiracism,” and others.

I learned that “anatomy is only a social construct” and that “whiteness is the deadliest disease.”

I asked if I should pick up a copy of “Gray’s Anatomy” to study at home. “That book is problematic,” my trainer snapped. “It’s named after a white guy. You should know better as a Black man.”

I was puzzled at how she capitalized “Black” while making “white” lowercase when she spoke out loud. But, properly chastened, I continued working on the coloring book she gave me.

Two hours later, I learned I was now a full-fledged brain surgeon. I was certified after I passed a BuzzFeed quiz on which Beyoncé song matches my surgical style.

Dr. Irvine assured me that one “doesn’t need years of education or pale skin to perform brain surgery.”

As I had already learned, “experience” is a white supremacist construct aimed at keeping marginalized people down.

I felt like Harriet Tubman must have felt when she led hundreds of slaves to freedom. As the podcasters said, DEI allowed me to get ahead without even knowing what a medulla oblongata is.

My first patient was an elderly person named Lucy who had a brain tumor. The hospital agreed to treat this patient because they identified as a non-binary shapeshifting rabbit whose pronouns are cotton/tail.

Lucy seemed unfazed at my apparent cluelessness. “I trust you implicitly, Dr. Charles,” they said. “The nurses here tell me your lived experience makes you more than qualified.”

With a newfound confidence, I proceeded to the operating room with my fingers crossed.”

The anesthesiologist, an undocumented Hispanic transgender woman from Ethiopia, put Lucy to sleep by playing back-to-back Robin DiAngelo lectures on YouTube.

I don’t remember much from the surgery, but I do know there was blood. Lots of blood. I was supposed to be removing a tumor, but I couldn’t resist having a little fun by pretending I was Dexter Morgan.

But nobody questioned me.

Dr. Irvine said oppressed people should be allowed to express themselves without the white supremacist power structure forcing their toxic views on “experience” and “merit” on us – just as Ben Shapiro, who is married to a doctor, said they would.

Unfortunately, Lucy didn’t make it.

Dr. Irvine informed me Lucy died from “systemic complications,” which is what happens when oppressed bodies live too long under the white supremacist power structure. Besides, she was probably a racist anyway.

My assistant, a young dolphin rights activist, assured me that “the important thing is that I tried” and “trying is more important than doing.”

That made me feel better. I keep Lucy’s brain in a mason jar on my shelf as a reminder of what I can accomplish because of DEI.

I never in a million years dreamed I’d be a world-class surgeon. I was skeptical about what right-wing influencers told me about DEI. But apparently, they were right. As a Black man, there is nothing I can’t do. I plan to start my pilot’s training next week.