This Q&A series is part of Black History Month and Beyond, an initiative of the Black History Month Organizing Committee co-led by Black students and faculty from the Faculty of Medicine and Health Sciences with the Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion Anti-Racism Committee (EDI-AR) of the School of Population and Global Health.
Can you tell us a bit about yourself?
My name is Christleen Elysée, a second-year medical student at McGill. My journey in healthcare is rooted in my upbringing in Haiti, where I was born and raised, and shaped by the path I began as an international student in Montreal. I first entered the field as a nurse, completing my training at McGill University and working in both critical care and remote settings. These experiences deepened my awareness of the structural inequities affecting marginalized communities. They also fuelled my commitment to care, to advocate, and to have an impact; commitments that now guide my path in medicine.
Can you describe your program of study and your area of interest?
I am currently pursuing a Doctor of Medicine degree at McGill University. My academic and clinical interests are grounded in women’s health, with a particular focus on how systemic gaps in care disproportionately affect Black women. What concerns me most is the ongoing lack of data, representation, and urgency when it comes to addressing these issues within mainstream healthcare discourse.
What inspired you to pursue your area of interest? What do you hope to achieve?
Growing up in Haiti, I saw the quiet suffering of women around me: mothers, aunts, friends struggling with fibroids, infertility, and chronic pelvic pain. As a nurse, I saw the same pain in clinics, too often dismissed or brushed off as “normal.” These weren’t isolated cases, they were patterns that broke my heart and planted a seed in me.
As a medical student, I carry these stories with me in every clinical space. I hope to become not only a clinician but also a relentless voice to advocate for equity in women’s health.
Why did you choose McGill?
Having completed my undergraduate degree in nursing at McGill, I was already familiar with the university’s academic rigour, interdisciplinary culture, and commitment to equity in health. Returning for medical school felt like a natural extension of my path.
What truly distinguishes McGill, however, is the people it brings together. I’ve had the privilege of learning alongside peers who are launching health equity projects in underserved communities, contributing to Indigenous health advocacy, and leading initiatives that support Black and racialized medical students. This culture of active engagement deeply resonates with my own aspirations to advocate for reproductive justice and contribute to systemic change in women’s health.
Can you describe your community involvement and why you feel it is important, especially as a member of the Black community?
Community has always been central to my identity. My first experience of leadership and service began in church as a child; singing in the choir, participating in the youth group, and eventually mentoring younger children. That early sense of collective responsibility has stayed with me throughout my academic and professional life. As a nurse, I volunteered with Médecins du Monde (Doctors of the World), delivering care to vulnerable populations. At McGill, I’ve been involved with the Black Medical Students’ Association (BMSA) and the Canadian Black Nurses Alliance (CBNA), among others. These spaces have allowed me to give back, advocate for change, and serve as a visible presence for students who, like me, may have once questioned whether they belonged in these halls. Representation is powerful, but presence alone is not enough. It’s about using that presence to open doors, create safe spaces, and build bridges for those coming after us.
How has your identity as a member of the Black community shaped your path?
Being part of the Black community has profoundly shaped my understanding of what it means to belong, to persevere, and to lead. Navigating new systems. whether as an immigrant, a student, or a healthcare worker can be deeply isolating when you feel like you have to figure everything on your own. But over time, I’ve learned that community is not just comforting; it’s essential. Solidarity is a form of survival. Finding mentors and peers who share your background, your language, or your values can transform how you see yourself and what you believe is possible. My identity has grounded me in the belief that medicine must be relational and rooted in empathy not just in diagnosis and treatment, but in understanding where patients come from and what they carry. It’s a perspective I carry with me every day, and one that continually informs how I show up as both a learner and a future physician.
What advice would you give your younger self, knowing what you know today?
First, I’d tell her she’s going to be okay. The path ahead won’t always be clear, and there will be moments of uncertainty, heartbreak, and even failure. But none of those things will define her.
I’d tell her that her hard work, her compassion, and her resilience will open doors, sometimes quietly, and sometimes all at once.
Most of all, I’d tell her that medicine is still her passion not because of the title or the prestige, but because she’s always been drawn to people, to stories, to healing. That calling will remain, even when things feel uncertain. You’re not lost, you’re becoming.