Cristina Fernandez-Garcia works as a Specialist Lead – Health Inequalities, Social Care and Communities Directorate at NES
I once read that we are an average of the people that we spend the most time with. This probably just means that the lens through which we perceive reality not only is shaped by our experiences and values, but also by the people that surround us.
I grew up between two seemingly opposing forces. My mother: talkative, extroverted, patient and open-minded, who could easily lose track of time engaged in conversation with a neighbour with a nonverbal learning disability. My sisters and I – able-bodied brats –wouldn’t even come close to understanding how that could be possible. And my father: quiet, introverted, introspective. As a devoted surgeon, he always had a special place for his patients. He would often walk to the hospital on a Saturday morning to check on them, because people don’t stop existing just because you’re out of working hours.
Despite their differences in approach and style, they’ve always shared one principle: there are no red lines when it comes to caring. I was consistently shown that support can be unconditional and that, especially as a child, there are no requirements to be met in exchange for care and love. Who would have thought that many years later I’d be able to describe some of their seemingly instinctive actions as people-centred, inclusive, and human-rights based?
My sheltered upbringing made me into someone that I would proudly describe as determined (although my closest ones would probably lean more towards the word stubborn!). This, combined with an overwhelming sense of injustice and a strong aversion for authoritarian structures, led me to see the world through a critical lens, always ready to challenge and open to change.
But intensity comes at a price. Particularly when you’re confronted with a reality as challenging and deep-rooted as inequality. When you realise that rights cannot be taken for granted, and that there are far too many fights to be fought, it makes you wonder how to keep going. Luckily, that’s when people appear to remind you that you’re not alone, and that this is a collective effort.
I’ll never be able to fully express how grateful I am to have met M so early in my career. She was a breath of fresh air after years of conventionality. Her background as an educator, with a strong foundation in planning and evaluation, made of her the perfect balance between method and inspiration. Passionate about public health and a tireless advocate for women’s rights, she disguised decades of militancy behind a veil of self-preserving stoicism. She made me realise how important it is to understand where we come from if we want to know where we’re heading, and that change doesn’t need to be loud to be impactful.
It wasn’t long after that I met H, and that was love at first sight. I had never seen so much passion contained within one person. In my first month working with her, I learned more about human relationships than I had in the previous two decades. As an activist with lived experience and a background in cultural mediation, she challenged each and every one of my preconceptions, pushing me to rethink what compromise really means. She showed me that people are entitled to lead on their own terms, at their own pace, and it’s on us to adjust our expectations. And she taught me the universal language of kindness, the meaning of community, and how safe and caring a professional space can be.
A was an academic – a university professor with a background in medical anthropology, and the greatest ability to dissect reality and culture that I’ve ever encountered. In a subtle yet powerful way, she was a fierce advocate for health promotion and for incorporating an anthropological approach to health. She believed that the complexities of the world don’t need to be simplified – an argument she supported with her impressive ability to articulate and digest even the most complex topics without ever making you feel patronised. She showed me the power of language and storytelling, and how sometimes the same stories that put children to sleep can make adults wake up.
These leaders – among many others – shaped my view of the world, made me appreciate the value of collective leadership, and helped me genuinely understand a sense of belonging. I hope one day I’ll be able to give back even a fraction of what they gave me.
Reflective Challenge: Who are the leaders who have inspired you and what lessons have you learned from them?
We’d like to thank Cristina for writing this guest blog which is part of the Leading to Change Diversity Blog Series. We aim to highlight and promote the voices and experiences of leaders at all levels across the communities we serve and celebrate potential role models for other aspiring leaders.
Cristina Fernandez-Garcia
Role:
Specialist Lead – Health Inequalities, Social Care and Communities Directorate at NES
“I am no longer accepting the things I cannot change. I am changing the things I cannot accept”.
I believe that this quote by Angela Davis perfectly summarises my approach to life. I’m Cristina, and I’m the specialist lead in health inequalities at NES. My background is in Medicine, and very early on in my career I realised the biomedical model of health was not for me. I did my specialty training in Public Health, with a great focus on gender, which inevitably led me to confront other challenging realities and systems of oppression. My last role before relocating to Scotland last year was in the field of substance use and homelessness. This experience was eye-opening in many ways, unveiling new dimensions of what stigma and discrimination can look like, and reinforcing my belief in the importance of intersectionality, multidisciplinary work and human-rights based approaches.
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