The incense trembled in my hands as I watched my mother intently, copying her every movement. We bowed down before a tombstone engraved with Chinese characters. Incense smoke swirled and diffused into the air, passing over my fingertips, which were wrapped in blossoming burgundy patterns that had only just begun to fade. I closed my eyes to shut out curious stares and focused on a silent prayer composed of Thai and English. I sincerely hope my ancestors are bilingual.

        Within the distinct cultures that make up my identity, I struggled to reconcile their contradictions. Though you may not notice initially, it is in the turning of heads when I speak Thai or Mandarin, the curled, blond locks from my White grandmother hidden between strands of straight ebony hair, my intolerance for the same spicy foods that my Indian grandfather adores. Also at play was my international school education: during world history lessons the scope of what textbooks considered the “world” was incredibly skewed. I was lucky to even hear mentions of Thai, Indian, or Chinese culture. I had involuntarily become a reflection of this cultural power imbalance, prioritizing scientific knowledge – a predominantly Western ideal – over other forms of knowledge. That was until an internship at a herbal medicine factory altered my perspective.

        A dense textbook thumped onto my desk, its worn pages holding a trove of unexplored treasures: camphor, borneol, menthol. Words I had only ever seen on ingredient labels were now described in detail, with benefits ranging from muscle relaxation to stress relief. Although initially skeptical, I formulated my own herbal balm, selecting each ingredient to achieve the desired benefits and gifted a sample to my grandmother. As I had hoped, it relieved her headaches and stress, challenging scientific beliefs and developing my respect for various cultural treatments.

        I began appreciating alternative treatments – acupuncture clinics in Thai hospitals, ayurvedic oils on my grandfather’s desk, and green chiretta as a cure for COVID-19. I realized that at its core, each culture’s healing method strives to provide treatment in the way they see fit. Science’s power cannot be denied, but it is not without limitations of the material body. However, we cannot scientifically explain Eastern faith-based healing. Nonetheless, it should not be rejected if it is not inherently harmful. Doing so would unfairly imply that science is omniscient and deserves authority over spirituality.

        We should remain open-minded to different perspectives and slow to judge the superiority of certain beliefs, as society benefits from respectful co-existence of diverse cultures. Perhaps if professionals are not as quick to dismiss different beliefs and instead present advice towards the most effective treatment methods in a sensitive, open-minded manner, then people from all cultures will feel comfortable seeking help. Furthermore, we can potentially reduce issues such as overtreatment by being open to gentler treatments, rather than leaping to medications, whenever it is reasonable. Therefore, we should begin to dismantle biases and encourage an open-minded and culturally sensitive approach to medicine, as I believe society benefits from the integration of alternative medicine into standard medicine. This could lead to the discovery of a field in which science and spirituality can work together and become virtually indistinguishable, redefining our understanding of medicine.