At first, Maria Uloko (’15) was proud of the looks of surprise, joy and comfort on the faces of people of color when she walked into a hospital room, and the patients saw a physician who looked like them. Soon, however, she began to question a society that still views Black physicians and scientists as an anomaly.

The situation made her angry, but after the murder of George Floyd last year, her anger hardened into resolve. She had been thinking about starting a podcast to highlight the achievements of people of color in STEM fields, but that summer, “someday” turned into “now.”

She launched “Battle Cry,” a podcast highlighting leaders of color in science, technology, engineering and medicine. On the podcast Twitter page, she proclaims, “We are here, we persevere, we resist then repeat.”

Today, Uloko practices urology at San Diego Sexual Medicine. Here are excerpts from a recent conversation with her.

When did you launch Battle Cry and why?

I started Battle Cry in the Summer of 2020 in the aftermath of the George Floyd murder. I had always had the idea of creating a storytelling podcast that tells the stories of BIPOC (Black, indigenous and people of color) in STEM and who they were. Often in these spaces, our voices and narratives are drowned out to fit into an institution that historically excluded us. With the rigorous training schedule of a surgical resident, it always felt more like a future project that I would do later in life. But after that horrific event, the urgency of creating something to reclaim my voice was pronounced. So, I just dove in and stopped worrying about perfection because the mission was so much greater than the need for perfection.

Why is spotlighting people of color working in STEM important to you?

I am the first of many in spaces that were never intended for me. I was the first woman from ÐÔÊӽ紫ý School of Medicine to match into the competitive field of genitourinary surgery (urology), the first Black class president there and the first Black woman to graduate from the University of Minnesota urology department. I wear those titles with a mixture of pride and pure exhaustion.

I lead with my race and identity because it is something I cannot separate myself from – nor would I want to. It is the first thing patients see when I enter a room and is oftentimes what defines our interaction.

During my medical training, I started noticing that every time I walked into a room of a patient of color, I would get a look of surprise, joy, comfort and elation radiating from their faces. For many of them, this was the first time they were getting care from someone that looked like them and shared their unique background and experience. These moments initially filled me with such pride that I could give back to my people in such a meaningful way. But then as the years went on, that pride turned into anger, resentment and sorrow. How was it that my 75-year-old patient had never had a Black physician? Why did I keep hearing “I never knew I could be a doctor” by numerous children, teens, and adults in this day and age when there is so much information and technology at our fingertips?

I was angry at a system that told Black and brown children they could not be whatever they wanted. I was resentful that these people could have been my colleagues if they had been supported or they had someone who believed that they could and showed them the way. And I was full of sorrow at so much lost potential to improve health care and save lives within Black, brown and lower socioeconomic communities.

How was it that they did not realize that they not only DESERVED to be treated by people that understand them, but it could actually save their lives? There are numerous studies showing that patients of color treated by providers of color have better outcomes and survival.

These encounters broke my heart, but with heartbreak comes action. The words – “I never knew we could be doctors” – replayed over and over in my head. These children weren’t being exposed to people that looked like them in the STEM fields.

I lead with my race and identity because it is something I cannot separate myself from – nor would I want to. It is the first thing patients see when I enter a room and is oftentimes what defines our interaction.

You typically go beyond career-oriented stories to portray your subjects as people, not just scientists. Why is that important to you?

I've always loved narrative storytelling. Stories define us, shape us, control us and make us. I think there is immense power when people share their story and what makes them, "them." It wasn't until college/medical school that I finally began hearing stories of other BIPOC doing such cool things, usually through podcasts. But finding people interested in STEM was still difficult. I knew that if I was going to do the hard work of anti-racism work and sustain my mental and emotional health, I wanted to do it through storytelling. I wanted to create a platform where I could give the microphone to these voices who have had to fight to get to where they were. I wanted our collective voices and stories to be a roaring and deafening battle cry, that we will not be silenced nor stop fighting. Hence the name, Battle Cry.

Stories define us, shape us, control us and make us. I think there is immense power when people share their story and what makes them, "them."

How has Battle Cry been received?

I am shocked by the popularity of the podcast. I honestly kept making the episodes as a form of healing during a really traumatic and ugly moment in our nation’s history. My goal was that if I could just expose one person to know they can do anything, all the time and commitment was worth it. I did not think this would be heard in six continents and making top podcast lists in several countries. It goes to show that people are more than ready for these stories.

I wanted our collective voices and stories to be a roaring and deafening battle cry, that we will not be silenced nor stop fighting. Hence the name, Battle Cry.

Did your experiences at ÐÔÊӽ紫ý influence your decision to launch the podcast, or influence its content? In what ways?

ÐÔÊӽ紫ý SOM is a very diverse place, and it was the first place where I felt celebrated for my differences, which was very affirming. The confidence of knowing who I am as a person and what my unique background attributed to my success is something I will always be grateful for. But even in this diverse place, I still had several encounters at ÐÔÊӽ紫ý that were frankly racist and shone the light on the disparities in health care and representation, which started my exploration of the historical context of why these disparities exist.

Tell us a little about your current medical practice:

I am a urologic surgeon in San Diego specializing in comprehensive sexual health including male and female sexual dysfunction and transgender care.