My Mother’s Story
My mother passed away in her late 50s. She was healthy and beautiful, she enjoyed life and family.
She was highly educated and quite successful.
A contributing factor in her early death was the failure of her healthcare providers to see the red flags of the cancer that was flourishing in her body.
Her proud demeanor allowed her to fall victim to society’s view that strong Black women are somehow less sensitive to pain. As a result, they failed to realize the severity of her situation. They missed the opportunity of early detection and, consequently, early intervention.
This is part of the ancestral trauma passed down in families like mine.
It fills our stories.
Stories like how my grandmother had stones thrown at her when she went into the wrong neighborhood.
I feel the insecurities in the stories shared by my family.
And I heard every moment of lost opportunity, lack of job promotions, struggling to pay bills, despite a college education.
Yes, this can happen to anyone.
But with Black Americans, we’re starting to realize that these stories not only fill each family’s histories, they are still happening in present day.
When it comes to health and wellbeing, misdiagnoses, missed diagnoses, and late diagnoses, and a lack of application of antiracist approaches to care, we are essentially retraumatizing Black, Indigenous, and People of Color by not being aware and acknowledging this trauma.
This is not a moment to point fingers, but a moment to face the fractures in our foundation. Working with our clients, our families, and our peers, we must work to understand and acknowledge this trauma.
She was highly educated and quite successful.
A contributing factor in her early death was the failure of her healthcare providers to see the red flags of the cancer that was flourishing in her body.
Her proud demeanor allowed her to fall victim to society’s view that strong Black women are somehow less sensitive to pain. As a result, they failed to realize the severity of her situation. They missed the opportunity of early detection and, consequently, early intervention.
This is part of the ancestral trauma passed down in families like mine.
It fills our stories.
Stories like how my grandmother had stones thrown at her when she went into the wrong neighborhood.
I feel the insecurities in the stories shared by my family.
And I heard every moment of lost opportunity, lack of job promotions, struggling to pay bills, despite a college education.
Yes, this can happen to anyone.
But with Black Americans, we’re starting to realize that these stories not only fill each family’s histories, they are still happening in present day.
When it comes to health and wellbeing, misdiagnoses, missed diagnoses, and late diagnoses, and a lack of application of antiracist approaches to care, we are essentially retraumatizing Black, Indigenous, and People of Color by not being aware and acknowledging this trauma.
This is not a moment to point fingers, but a moment to face the fractures in our foundation. Working with our clients, our families, and our peers, we must work to understand and acknowledge this trauma.