Emily Silverman: Tell me about yourself.

Shayne Poulin: I'm Shayne. I'm a family physician in Southern California, currently working in San Bernardino. I previously worked at Planned Parenthood of Orange and San Bernardino counties, where I provide primary care, reproductive healthcare, and abortion care. Most of my storytelling experience comes from advocacy work.

ES: Do you write Op-Eds, or what kind of storytelling do you do?

SP: My advocacy has mostly been through blogging, speaking to elected officials, and sharing stories—often on behalf of my patients.

Did you always know you wanted to go into medicine?

Oh, definitely. No one in my family is in medicine—my mom was a paralegal and my dad a mechanic—but I was that four-year-old who declared, "I'm going to be a doctor." To their credit, my parents were always supportive, even if they didn’t know where it came from. They gave me every opportunity they could.

As a kid, I wanted to be a pediatrician. I went to undergrad and med school at the University of Arizona. What I didn’t know until I got there was that the medical school had a restriction tied to funding from the 1970s—specifically money used to build a football stadium. Because of that, they were prohibited from teaching abortion or offering any related rotations in the curriculum.

Wait, a football stadium affected the medical curriculum?

Yes. In the '70s, around the time of Roe, the university got funding to build a stadium, and a stipulation attached to it barred the medical school from teaching abortion. It’s the only public and allopathic medical school in the state, with the goal of training people to stay and practice in Arizona. But if you don’t train people in something, you effectively eliminate access to it.

I had no idea about the restriction when I enrolled. I even took a year off to teach high school before starting med school. At first, I still thought I’d be a pediatrician. I grew up in a household that was politically aware, especially around reproductive rights, but I didn’t initially see that as part of my career.

Then I learned about the rule. I’ve always had a bit of a fire in me—if I see something unjust, and someone says I can’t do something, I’ll blaze a trail. I got involved with Medical Students for Choice and started organizing educational events for my classmates. Eventually, I realized family medicine was a better fit—it let me do pediatrics and integrate reproductive health.

Were you allowed to organize those trainings if the rule was in effect?

We could form clubs and organize our own trainings, but they weren’t part of the official curriculum. In my fourth year, I arranged my own rotations in-state, but it was a heavy lift. Anyone who was unsure or mildly interested just didn’t get the exposure or training.

What came next?

Residency. I wanted to leave Arizona. My spouse is from Massachusetts, and he said, “What about New England?” I told him, “Anywhere but here.” Honestly, I was tired of being the person always talking about abortion. I just wanted to be a primary care doctor. I believe everyone should have access to reproductive care—it shouldn’t be controversial.

We moved to Boston, where I did my residency at Boston Medical Center, affiliated with BU. It's the city’s safety net hospital, and I absolutely loved it. I’m very much a city person—currently trapped in the suburbs—but I’m finding joy where I live now, because there’s a real sense of community.

And now you're in San Bernardino?

Yes. I live in Redlands, which I describe as halfway between LA and Palm Springs. It’s a charming college town that looks like it was transplanted from New England into the desert—Victorian houses, a cute downtown. It has rich culture, community events, and a neighborly feel.

Any creative or storytelling pursuits during your time in Boston?

Not much, to be honest. Residency kept me busy. I stayed on as faculty afterward, had two kids, and lost a parent. Those six years were a bit of a survival mode. We moved to California about eight and a half years ago when I got the opportunity to take my current role—my dream job, really. I’m a family doctor with reproductive healthcare fully integrated into primary care, which is how it should be, even though there are a lot of barriers to making that standard everywhere.

And now you’re organizing a storytelling event in your community. How did that come about?

A colleague and I both serve on the local and state boards of the California Academy of Family Physicians. He found a grant opportunity and asked me to lead the project. I believed in the mission and felt like I had a good sense of what makes a compelling, impactful story.

What’s your vision for the event?

I want it to create a sense of community. Our local chapter covers a large geographic area, and although many of us are dealing with similar challenges, it’s been hard to feel connected. Everyone is in their own silo—where they live, where they work. My hope is that this event reaches beyond our usual circle and brings in a broader group.

I’d love to highlight what it’s like to practice medicine here in the Inland Empire, across different roles and levels of training. I want people to leave feeling more connected. Things are really hard right now. LA has gotten attention, especially around ICE, but out here, many of us work in underserved settings. Our patients are terrified. Our staff is terrified. There’s a lot of unease. I want to create a space where, even if we can’t fix that, we can at least take a breath together and feel a little less alone.

It’s true—the mood of the moment really affects events like this. You mentioned the Inland Empire, the IE. Can you describe what that means?

Sure. I’m not originally from here, but I’ve picked up the lingo. The Inland Empire is the suburban stretch between LA and Palm Springs, including places like Riverside and the high desert. Riverside has its own university and culture. The high desert is even more underserved and remote.

It’s a mix of suburban sprawl and industrialization. Huge warehouse buildings—many for Amazon—now stand where farms used to be. Some of them are almost a mile long. These are the kinds of jobs our patients work—hot environments, little or no AC, physically demanding. For many, it feels like the only option.

But there’s also vibrancy. On the surface, it might seem beige and full of big-box stores, but there are pockets of culture in downtown Riverside, Colton, even at the local swap meet.

The swap meet?

Yeah, it’s like a non-bougie farmers market, held on Sundays. People set up booths selling food, clothes, crafts. There’s this energy, this ethos. It’s a space where people preserve and share their culture. It’s community.

It sounds like a great place for an event like this. Do you have a venue?

Yes! We just got the paperwork finalized. It’s called The Box in Downtown Riverside—a small theater space, very walkable, right in the heart of things. The event will be on November 9. We sent out a soft call for stories a few weeks ago, but now that we have a date, we’ll be promoting it more widely.

We’ve also secured story coaches from UC Riverside’s creative writing department. They’re all incredibly accomplished and experienced in storytelling. I’m excited for what’s ahead.

It all sounds amazing. I can’t wait to see it come together!