The morning light streams through the windows at St. Michael’s Hospital in Toronto as Dr. Onye Nnorom addresses a group of medical residents. “When we talk about health disparities affecting Black Canadians, we need to understand the historical context,” she explains, her voice carrying the weight of both academic authority and lived experience.
I’m sitting at the back of the room, watching these future physicians learn about something largely absent from their formal medical education: how racism affects the health of Black patients in Canada.
One resident raises her hand. “I realized I’d never been taught about how skin conditions present differently on darker skin,” she admits. “It wasn’t in our textbooks.”
This gap in medical education represents just one aspect of a much larger issue. Despite Canada’s reputation for universal healthcare, Black Canadians continue to face disparities in both access and quality of care. The numbers tell part of the story: Black Canadians report higher rates of diabetes, hypertension, and mental health challenges, yet often receive different treatment recommendations than their white counterparts with identical symptoms.
“The medical curriculum has historically been built around the white body as the default,” explains Dr. Nnorom, who leads the Black Health Education Collaborative, an initiative working to develop anti-racist health curriculum across Canadian medical schools. “We’re not just adding diversity—we’re correcting a fundamental flaw in how medicine has been taught.”
When I visited the University of Toronto’s medical school last month, I met Chika Oriuwa, who in 2020 became the first Black woman to be selected as sole valedictorian in the faculty’s 179-year history. Her journey through medical education illuminates the systemic issues at play.
“Throughout my training, I was often the only Black person in the room,” Oriuwa tells me as we sit in the hospital cafeteria between her shifts. “It takes a psychological toll to constantly be navigating spaces where no one looks like you, where you’re doubted, and where the content doesn’t reflect your community’s realities.”
A 2021 survey by the Black Physicians’ Association of Ontario found that 78% of Black medical students reported experiencing discrimination during their training. Meanwhile, Black Canadians make up only about 2.9% of physicians, despite representing nearly 4% of the Canadian population.
The disparities extend beyond representation. Research published in the Canadian Medical Association Journal has shown that implicit bias affects clinical decision-making, with studies demonstrating that Black patients are less likely to receive appropriate pain medication and more likely to have their symptoms dismissed.
Dr. Husam Abdel-Qadir, a cardiologist at Women’s College Hospital, points to concrete examples. “We know that Black women with heart disease symptoms are more likely to have their pain attributed to anxiety rather than cardiac issues,” he explains. “These aren’t individual failings—they’re patterns embedded in our healthcare system.”
What’s changing now is the approach to addressing these issues. Rather than treating them as abstract concepts, medical schools across Canada are beginning to incorporate anti-racist education as a core component of clinical training.
At the Northern Ontario School of Medicine, curriculum now includes specific modules on how social determinants of health affect Black communities differently. McGill University has launched a task force examining the impact of systemic racism on medical education. The University of British Columbia’s medicine program has begun incorporating content on how skin conditions present on diverse skin tones.
“This isn’t about making white students feel guilty,” clarifies Dr. OmiSoore Dryden, the James R. Johnston Chair in Black Canadian Studies at Dalhousie University. “It’s about ensuring all physicians can provide quality care to all patients. It’s fundamentally about medical excellence.”
When I spoke with current Black medical students, I found cautious optimism about these changes. Michelle Akinmulero, a third-year student at Queen’s University, describes noticing shifts in her education.
“Even two years ago, discussions about race in healthcare were superficial,” she tells me during our video call. “Now we have sessions specifically addressing anti-Black racism in healthcare, with Black physicians leading those conversations.”
But challenges remain. The Black Medical Students’ Association of Canada has documented ongoing issues, including microaggressions in clinical settings and a lack of structural support for Black students navigating predominantly white institutions.
“The changes are happening unevenly,” acknowledges Dr. Upton Allen, Division Head of Infectious Diseases at The Hospital for Sick Children. “Some institutions are advancing rapidly while others are moving more slowly. What matters is that we maintain momentum.”
The push for change extends beyond medical schools. Black health organizations like the Black Health Alliance are working to collect race-based health data to better track disparities. Community health centers in neighborhoods with significant Black populations are developing culturally responsive care models.
As our healthcare system confronts the realities of anti-Black racism, medical educators emphasize that the goal isn’t just awareness but action. For Dr. Nnorom, who continues her regular teaching sessions with residents, success will look like integrated changes across the system.
“In ten years, I want discussing the health impacts of racism to be as routine as teaching about the cardiovascular system,” she says as our interview concludes. “Not something special or separate, but essential knowledge for every physician in Canada.”
As I leave St. Michael’s Hospital, watching new doctors hurry between patients, I’m struck by both the urgency and the potential of this moment. Medical education shapes not just individual careers but the healthcare experiences of millions. For Black Canadians who have long navigated a system not designed with them in mind, these changes cannot come soon enough.
