Bold Enough to Care: Declaring a New Age in Healthcare

From Daring to Know, to Daring to Care

Sapere aude.” Dare to know.

This phrase, born from the Age of Enlightenment, gave shape to one of humanity’s boldest experiments: democracy. It was a call to trust human reason, to seek truth, and to pursue knowledge for the betterment of society. It is no exaggeration to say that this call is also at the root of the American healthcare system.

We dared to know.

And because of that, medicine became more than ritual and superstition. We moved from leeches and bloodletting to science and discovery. From trial-and-error to systematic study. From a handful of healers to institutions devoted to research and training.

But daring to know has always had two faces: one of progress, and one of harm.


The Light Side of Knowledge

The Enlightenment promise was immense for medical advancement. By daring to know, physicians and scientists unlocked treatments, surgical techniques, and public health advancements that saved countless lives. We moved away from home remedies and homeopathic medicine (though some may have merit) towards evidence based scientifically replicable treatments. And, overall, we have benefited greatly from this. America became a leader in medical innovation, pioneering everything from anesthesia to organ transplantation to complex health systems designed to serve millions.

Our healthcare system, while messy, fragmented, and inequitable, is built on that foundation of relentless curiosity and advancement. That curiosity has given us breakthroughs that continue to ripple across the world.


The Dark Side of Knowledge

But there is also a shadow in this history. Daring to know often came at the expense of those deemed expendable.

In the 19th century, medical schools often relied on “body snatching” to fuel their teaching. The poor and disenfranchised, those without wealth, family advocates, or social standing, were the most vulnerable. In many schools, it even became a celebrated rite of passage for students to prove their eagerness to learn anatomy by breaking into county or city morgues to steal the bodies of unclaimed persons, alongside other inhumane practices. (Yes, really! See more)

Later, experimentation without consent became institutionalized in horrifying ways. The Tuskegee Study withheld treatment from Black men with syphilis in the name of research. The so-called “fathers of gynecology” conducted painful experiments on enslaved Black women without anesthesia, their suffering treated as collateral for medical progress.

Robert Thom/The Collection of Michigan Medicine

These legacies are not distant. We see their imprint in today’s health disparities, especially in the elevated maternal mortality rates among Black mothers in the United States. Instances when concerned pregnant black women’s pleas are ignored or dismissed, even powerful and famous black women, like tennis GOAT Serena Williams and track star Allyson Felix. Tori Bowie, Olympic Gold Medalist, tragically died due to complications of her pregnancy in 2023, complications that endured in part because of her mistrust of the health system, according to sources close to her.

Daring to know, untethered from dignity, dehumanizes those who were most vulnerable at the presumed benefit of the greater society. But, that perverse arithmetic need not endure. No life is more valuable than another’s, and we can venture to expand knowledge without exploitation and mistreatment.


A New Dare for Our Time

So what does sapere aude mean for us today?

It cannot mean knowledge at any cost. It cannot mean discovery through exploitation. It cannot mean progress that leaves dignity behind.

Instead, we must expand the phrase: dare to know, and dare to care.

  • Dare to know how dignified our practice can be.
  • Dare to know how much we can elevate the voices of patients, families, and communities.
  • Dare to know how equity can be woven into the fabric of healthcare delivery.
  • Dare to know how joy and trust can coexist with science and discovery.
Daring Care, G.A. Silvera (2025)

We already know how to push the limits of medicine. The harder, braver work is daring to know how much better, how more compassionate, and how more just our care can become.


The Age of Enlightenment taught us to pursue truth. The American experiment taught us to test whether self-governance could endure. Our healthcare history teaches us that knowledge without dignity will always fall short.

Now, the next frontier is not just science. It is human connection. It is time to dare not only to know, but to care.

The next age could leave behind a legacy of innovation, trust, compassion, and joy. Whether history calls it the age of co-production, the age of compassion, or the age of caring doesn’t matter. What matters is that patient advocates declare a new age, again and again, at every indignity, every injustice, and every inequity we see in our systems. We must inject them with empathy, infuse them with compassion, and embolden them with joy so that no patient is ever left to suffer in a system too bold to care.

We must be bold enough to care.

Curare aude, G.A. Silvera, 2025

We Can All Win: Why We Celebrate Each Other

Recently, I experienced an outpouring of congratulations on LinkedIn—messages full of kindness, joy, and genuine celebration for a professional milestone. I was moved, of course, and am still, but more than that, I found myself wondering:

Why do we love celebrating each other?

What makes us say “Happy birthday!” like we really mean it? Why do we feel pride when a colleague gets promoted, when a friend receives an award, when someone in our community gets their long-overdue flowers?

It feels natural. Automatic, even. But if you step back and think about it, it’s actually quite radical.

We live in a society built on competition and comparison. From early schooling to career advancement, we’re told to race to the top, to beat the curve, to outshine others in order to succeed. And if you spend anytime on the male side of the internet, it’s all focused on being the Top Dog Alpha Sigma Terminator.

But here’s the thing: celebrating someone else is the opposite of that. It’s not competitive. It’s not even cooperative. It’s more than that.

It’s selfless.

It’s other-more.

And, that is fascinating.

Are we more kind than competitive? Can that be true? Is that us?

In graduate school, I heard a phrase that shifted something in me:

“We can all win.”

It was a reminder that our learning journeys weren’t zero-sum games. That the person sitting next to me in class wasn’t my competition, but a resource. That we weren’t there to defeat each other, we were all there to grow … together. And doing it together made us stronger individually.

Like the redwoods, we are each other’s foundation for growth. We’re not competing for ground space, we are sharing roots. My foundation is yours, and yours is mine.

That phrase has followed me into every corner of my professional life. It’s a mindset. A worldview. And yet, when I see people go out of their way to cheer each other on, to amplify someone else’s moment, it still surprises me in the best way.

It surprises me because it cuts so swiftly against the narrative we’re sold. We’re told we’re divided. More divided than ever. We are Polarized. Split into factions.

You’re either woke or anti-woke. You’re either a patriot or you hate America. You’re either Red or you’re Blue. City or country. North or south. Rock or rap. Beer or wine. Waffle House or First Watch (sorry, I’m hungry for breakfast).

But when I see how eagerly we show up to celebrate each other, I think:

Maybe we’re not as broken as we think.

Kintsugi me and I’ll kintsugi you

Years ago, I was introduced to kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery using gold. The idea is that a bowl isn’t less valuable because it’s cracked. When it’s repaired, it’s more beautiful, more meaningful, more whole because of its brokenness.

At first, I saw this as a metaphor for healing: life breaks us, and we fill those cracks with gold over time. We get stronger when we heal.

But now? I’m starting to believe something deeper. And, I have to give Netflix’s K Pop Demon Hunters a lot of credit for this one. There’s a moment in the story that made me rethink the whole idea: what if life doesn’t break us? What if we start out already a little cracked?

We are born broken, and we are born golden.

But the gold we have, the gold we are born with, is not for us. My gold isn’t for me. Yours isn’t for you.

We are the gold that holds each other together.

Just like the lyrics in the song Golden by Huntr/x say:

No more hiding, I’ll be shining
Like I’m born to be
‘Cause we are hunters, voices strong
And I know I believe

We’re goin’ up, up, up
It’s our moment
You know together we’re glowing
Gonna be, gonna be golden

Maybe that’s why we celebrate each other.

Because we recognize that your win is part of my wholeness, and mine is part of yours.

It’s not just kindness. It’s kinship.

So, thank you for sharing your gold with me. If you’ve ever celebrated me, or anyone else, I hope you know what that means. You’re doing something human. Something generous. Something golden.

Maybe the most radical thing we can do in a fractured world is to keep showing up for each other. In joy, in sorrow, in triumph, and in loss.

Maybe we really can all win. And, I sincerely hope you do.

Stay golden!