Decolonising nursing begins with a history lesson.
In the 1850s, two brilliant women provided nursing care for British soldiers on the frontlines of the Crimean War. The one was a white woman from an affluent background, while the other was a black woman of Jamaican-Scottish descent.
You might ask yourself why a modern-day SA nurse concerns herself with historical characters so far from home. The fact is that the story of nursing in Africa and elsewhere is largely viewed through Eurocentric glasses.
When it comes to nursing history, most people talk about Florence Nightingale as the mother of the profession. In fact, International Nurses Day, which takes place today , is set on Nightingale’s birthday and this time of the year nurses everywhere celebrate her legacy. Very few speak of Mary Seacol, who served tirelessly in the same war, overcoming many obstacles, including racism and being denied funding.
It was only in 2016 that Seacol was immortalised with a statue in the UK, about 135 years after her death. I believe that our conversations around nursing would be incomplete if we fail to talk about decolonising nursing education and the profession.
This process begins with unpacking the history in a way that represents different voices and characters. In her autobiography, Seacol is quoted as having said: “I have a few shades of brown upon my skin which shows me related, and I’m proud of the relationship I share with the poor mortals you once enslaved.”
As I reflect, I see more of Mary in myself than I do Florence.
From her skin colour to her social background and her unbending resolve to get things done. Seacol is the hidden figure whose story I resonate with, but never got to hear as a student. Emeritus Professor, Elizabeth Anionwu, describes Nightingale and Seacol as pioneers and strong-willed women. However, according to Nionwu, one wrote the rule book of nursing as we know it today.
While “Mary on the other hand, when she thought it was necessary, threw away the rule book but in a very positive way”. For instance, Seacol would insist on treating wounded soldiers on the battlefield despite being prohibited from doing so. As an activist in health sector, I have found myself having to question the rules and unsettle authority on many occasions.
Nurses in SA today are predominantly black women, who I am afraid, like Mary Seacol, have been relegated to the shadows. The colonial project succeeded when it comes to rendering black women invisible no matter how far we push.
Nursing education as it stands in this country advances that oppressive culture that shuns critical thinking among practitioners and relegates people to being followers of doctors' orders. I love the idea of the woke nurse.
Woke is a colloquial term used by our generation to describe someone who is awake and aware of their socio-political surroundings.
Mary Seacol resonates with this kind of radical nurse whose determined spirit has the potential to make a difference. As we decolonise the profession, we must explore other historical narratives, especially those that resonate with who we are.
•Mthunzi is a senior lecturer and president of the Young Nurses Indaba Trade Union
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