The night before my medical school interview, my sister poured bleach on my only blazer, and my parents told me to stop making a scene.

Rosalind Mercer, standing outside Adler’s original clinic entrance in 1978, arms crossed, gaze steady, white coat sharp against the brick wall.

Beside it, I placed my own white coat ceremony photo.

Two women from the same bloodline.

One erased at home.

One nearly stopped at the door.

Both still standing.

Years later, when I interviewed applicants as a fourth-year continue reading …