Dr. Aisha Bailey

I need people to take a moment and really think about this.

We are at a point where the established norms of the past are being destroyed—obliterated,  actually. Everything is topsy-turvy, and for those of us in the middle of it, it’s been one hell of a ride.

Take, for instance, a recent patient visit. A mother brought in her child, deeply concerned about an allergy. But not to peanuts or pollen. No. An allergy… to a color.

She explained with sincere intensity that her child has had a chronic allergy to the color blue. She described how her child always looks away when confronted with it. I listened, my face a portrait of professional neutrality, as she slowly revealed a tote bag filled with blue objects—blue toys, blue clothes, blue snacks, I presume—and one by one, held them up to her child’s face. Every few seconds, she’d glance sharply at me, as if to say, “Well? What are we gonna do about this?”

I took a deep breath. “Ma’am, allergies are real. They can cause hives, swelling, abdominal pain—”

“I know,” she interrupted. “But watch his eye. It twitches when he sees blue. I forgot to mention that earlier.”

Welcome to the Upside Down.

And what’s wild is—it didn’t take long to get here. Years of innuendo, half-baked education, performative “research,” and TikTok diagnoses have led us to this moment. A void in reality. Most people are now simply cosplaying their lives and roles—playing doctor, playing parent, playing “expert” with confidence but no context.

I look into the brightly lit eyes of babies filled with bubbly optimism, and contrast it with the hollow, shell-shocked stares of their own parents sitting silently in the corner. Do they see the weight they’re carrying? Do they realize that while they’re worrying about blue crayons and elbow bumps, real dangers still exist? Ones that can cut a child’s life short in a moment?

More often than not, I find myself explaining why strep throat is dangerous, while the true emergency—say, a high fever and lethargy—is ignored unless a rash appears. A rash will get parents sprinting through the doors. And I used to wonder why.

Then came the baby elbows.

A family came in concerned about small, rough patches on the backs of their baby’s elbows. I recommended moisturizing with a thick emollient, gently avoiding steroid creams to prevent hypopigmentation. At first, they agreed.

But a few weeks later, they returned, clearly distressed. They told me they had postponed taking pictures of their baby due to the shame of this disfiguring rash.

I gently reminded them it was on the backs of the elbows. That their baby was, in fact, still adorable. But they were adamant. “You don’t know what it’s like to deal with something so hideous,” they said. And eventually, they transferred care.

I’ve comforted parents grieving the slightly off-center placement of a baby’s earring. I’ve soothed anxieties over the natural curve of a child’s pinky finger.

Let me be clear: I don’t share these stories to mock or belittle. I say this as a pediatrician and as someone who loves children deeply—I am simply struck by how easily we’ve lost sight of the larger picture.

On most days, in most rooms, I look into the eyes of healthy children. I see miracles. Chromosomes, hormones, and atoms conspire to create walking, talking galaxies of possibility. And yet, there is more debate about poop consistency and DIY formula than about actual threats to survival.

Because let’s not forget—there are real monsters. Not the ones under the bed. I’m talking about disease. Tiny, invisible, shape-shifting organisms that don’t care how many parenting blogs you read or what oils you rub on your child’s feet.

These organisms don’t sleep. They evolve. They attack. And they have been here since the beginning of time.

Science is not a belief system—it is the oxygen of survival. And yet, our hands are being tied. Politics now muffles the voices of those trained to protect. Our medical leaders are often too afraid to shout truths, opting instead for pleasant smiles and diplomatic nods.

We are stuck in a hamster wheel of billing codes and insurance grids, working endlessly to break even while a few powerful figures shout misinformation from mountaintops. And the public listens—not because the messengers are right, but because they look the part.

Sometimes, I wonder if we are the ones who were caught in magical thinking. Those of us who believed that knowledge, science, and compassion would be enough. That if we just worked hard and stayed true, people would listen. Maybe it’s us who were naive.

But even so, we continue.

Because here’s what I know: There’s still time. This country—this world—needs a wake-up call. Medicine, public health, and childhood survival were not built on branding and charisma. They were built on centuries of human effort, intellect, and sacrifice.

Do not let all of that go quietly into the night.

Parents: fight for your children. Demand real information. Show up. Ask the hard questions. Don’t be afraid of truth just because it’s not wrapped in your preferred aesthetic. Be louder than the lies. Be braver than the algorithms.

Because if we don’t speak up now, the blue crayons won’t be the thing we regret focusing on. It’ll be all the real monsters we let sneak in while we were distracted.

Let’s wake up. While there’s still time.