For the actor, it’s a cause with personal meaning. Diggs’ younger sister, Christian, was diagnosed with schizophrenia in her late 20s, and today, the siblings work with Bristol Myers Squibb on the “Live Your PosSCZible” campaign to not only raise awareness about schizophrenia but also help create possibilities for those living with it.

The pair co-hosted an LA talent event featuring the schizophrenia community, and Diggs says to SheKnows that he’s excited for people to see how “well-rounded, artistic, and multi-layered folks are who are diagnosed with schizophrenia.”

Per NIMH, schizophrenia is a serious mental condition that affects 2.4 million adults in the US alone. It can come with hallucinations, delusions, and disordered thinking that could heavily affect daily functioning. It can be impairing, but it doesn’t have to define you — and that’s what this sibling duo wants to remind everyone.

“It was a wonderful example of just how these folks are not letting the diagnosis define them. I saw these people on stage, and they were brilliant artists as opposed to people struggling and dealing with schizophrenia. I saw that side of them, that facet, and it was really eye-opening,” Diggs says. “I’m grateful. I’m continuing to learn and my eyes continue to be open wider and wider as far as what life with these differences has in store.”

Is it any surprise to fans that during his chat with SheKnows, he answered each question so thoughtfully, pondering every word he uttered to make sure people truly felt what he was saying. Whether it was talking about what he learned through his sister’s experiences, his own journey with mental health, or even talking about the lessons he’s teaching his teen son, Diggs spoke about everything with such care.

His words are a reminder that we all need to be gentle with people, including ourselves.

Diggs spoke with SheKnows about mental health, parenting his biracial son, and what he wants people to know about the schizophrenia community.

When asked what he wished people knew more about the schizophrenia community, Diggs responds that he wants people to know “that there is a community.” He says, “Because I know when my sister was diagnosed, both my sister and I found ourselves feeling alone. It’s very easy to fall back and kind of go inwards as opposed to being made aware that there are others out there who have similar struggles. I can see my sister just kind of relaxing, realizing, and being reminded that there are others out there who have similar situations. That’s something that really counts.”

As you can imagine, Diggs and his sister also experienced the racial disparity in the schizophrenia community, and the mental health community at large. Per RTOR, Black American adults are 20 percent more likely to experience serious mental health problems, and more than 80 percent of Black Americans are very concerned about the stigma, discouraging them from seeking treatment.

When it comes to breaking the stigmas, Diggs’ advice is simple: “Just do the research!” He says, “For me, it was just being exposed, having the courage to ignore my initial thoughts of pulling away.”

But he also wants people to know that it isn’t easy. But luckily, “it takes work, and it’s another thing that people need to realize,” he says. “It’s not gonna be easy. I think that’s part of life and I feel proud of my sister and myself because my whole family knows that we’re in it… No matter how we or other people may think it should end, we’re in there [and] that’s what feels really good.”

Diggs himself has tough days when it comes to maintaining his mental health. “That’s an ongoing experience as well because a lot of times, I will convince myself that I am okay but then my body will just shut down. So it’s something that I’m still kind of learning. Meditating helps, breathing helps. Creating boundaries and setting yourself up to succeed, whatever that is. It’s kind of forcing yourself to check in, but then also being patient with yourself.”

While he’s teaching himself better practices every day, he’s doing the same with his teen son, Walker Nathaniel, whom Diggs shares with ex Idina Menzel. Being a teen in 2025 isn’t easy, but Diggs is helping his son along the way, including explaining schizophrenia and other mental health conditions.

“I’m here, just exposing him,” he says. “I tell him what’s going on and how it goes down, how everything goes down, what my sister is feeling, and how she felt. Just giving him the blow-by-blow as I experience it, just so I can dispel any images that he may have seen on television or whatnot. And also making sure that he knows that everybody’s situation is different. I think it can be easy to be exposed to one kind of specific idea and then think that everything else following that is the same, and that’s not the case.”

The Private Practice alum added, “He’s a teen, so I can only I can only say so much to him before I get my cool card revoked. Just letting him know that everybody’s different and to not make assumptions, just listen to people, and try to be as supportive as possible before passing judgment.”

Along with helping him navigate mental health, Diggs is also working hard to make sure Walker feels seen, protected, and empowered. Diggs reflected that with most things in parenting, it’s “an everyday experience.”

“This is one thing that I’m sure about: the moment I think I have it figured out, I know I don’t. So I do my best to kind of be in the moment and trust my experiences. I just gotta live with what happens afterwards where we’re all doing the best we can. The way I was raised and the situation and the issues that that I had to deal with are completely different for him,” he explains. “He’s biracial. So already, he’s coming into the game with different kind of different rules. But he’s also a different person than I am, he’s built differently.”

What does he mean by differently? Well, Digg explains, “He’s far more confident. I went through a nerdy awkward stage, and he’s just mister cool dude. I’m dealing with him as he did and doing the best to kind of long listen as opposed to teach and listen. But if there are moments when I can kind of use my experiences to help, I try and I think most importantly, it’s just the support, love, and attention.”

To fellow parents of teens, Diggs recommends being “patient with themselves and to be patient with your kid.”

Say it louder for the people in the back!

When it comes down to it, kids need love, support, attention, and, as Diggs says, both parents and teens need another attribute for a happy home. He says to fellow parents of teens that they need to be “patient with themselves and to be patient with your kid.”

“There are times when you try to be in the moment and every situation is different, but make sure that the child knows you’re there… There are certain times when teens need to be kind of coaxed and then other times when you say, ‘Okay. When you wanna say something, I’m here,'” he says. “I think it’s important that they know that you’re there to support them, no matter what.”

According to the Cleveland Clinic, one rare and life-threatening condition that disproportionately affects Black women is peripartum cardiomyopathy. Also known as PPCM, this condition is a pregnancy-related weakness of the heart muscle that sometimes develops during the final month of pregnancy through about five months post-delivery. PPCM is more prevalent in Southern U.S. regions and symptoms include fatigue, shortness of breath, swollen ankles and feet, weight gain, shortness of breath, heart palpitations, and chest pain.

One indication of the seriousness of PPCM can be measured by the ejection fraction, the percentage of blood the heart pumps out with each beat. A normal ejection fraction number is about 60 percent; with PPCM, it drops to less than 45 percent.

High blood pressure, preeclampsia, diabetes, and older age are all associated with the development of PPCM, but many patients do not have risk factors. Black women are also more likely to develop PPCM — potentially up to three times more likely when compared to white women, according to a recent study.

In recognition of Black Maternal Health Week, we spoke to three brave women who are sharing their stories of PPCM to help others facing similar challenges.

“How could this happen?”

Tina Marsden of Atlanta, Georgia was just 28 when she began experiencing trouble breathing shortly after the birth of her second child. An emergency room visit led to a diagnosis of walking pneumonia, but Marsden’s symptoms worsened. Knowing to advocate for herself, Marsden insisted doctors conduct multiple tests and was diagnosed with PPCM. If that news wasn’t devastating enough, she was told she would not live to see her son grow up. “My initial thought was how could this happen? I’ve always been healthy and athletic,” she recalled. “I wanted answers on what my diagnosis meant, and what I could do to get better.”

Marsden learned there are different ways to treat and live with heart failure including, medications, life-saving devices, or a heart transplant. Her doctors tried various approaches over several years. Marsden did her part, too, by changing her diet and walking 30 minutes daily. She was ultimately fitted for the Abbott HeartMate II heart pump (also known as a left ventricular assist device or LVAD) which has kept her alive for over two decades. Marsden now serves as a peer support specialist and legislative advocate working to educate mothers facing the same diagnosis on resources and available solutions; her sons are now 30 and 22.

“Quitting is never an option”

In her 30’s, Tracey Young of Chicago, Illinois, was overweight and in poor health. In 1997, following her second pregnancy, Young was diagnosed with PPCM and told she wouldn’t live to see her daughter grow up. “My first thought was fear,” she says of the diagnosis. “I was afraid to die and concerned about leaving my husband alone to raise our children.” Her son was two and her daughter was just six weeks old. Feeling defeated, Young began to get her affairs in order and plan her funeral. She prayed and asked God to help her fight for her life.

Young followed her doctor’s medical advice and made significant dietary changes, losing 75 pounds. Despite seeing improvements, old habits and the weight gradually crept back. She began missing medication doses and doctor’s appointments, and the familiar symptoms returned, leading to hospitalizations. She was repeatedly warned that her health would only deteriorate but ignored the warnings. In October 2007, Young hit the wall. “I could no longer work my job as a social worker or walk short distances due to severe shortness of breath,” she recalls. “Simple tasks like showering became overwhelming. My husband and daughter supported me with daily activities like dressing and cooking.” In 2008, she suffered a second heart attack. Staring death squarely in the face, her mother reminded her in the ICU that she had kids to raise. Those words ignited a fight and she adopted the mantra, “Quitting is Never an Option.”

In 2012, Young was implanted with the Abbott HeartMate II LVAD. Despite the doctor’s predictions, she witnessed her daughter graduate from college, but the joy hasn’t been without sorrow. In April 2023, the Youngs lost their 26-year-old son, Frank Jr., to a massive heart attack. The LVAD has empowered Young to achieve goals she once deemed impossible, including completing a 3k run (even though she walked). She works out regularly at the gym, lifts weights, explores outdoor trails, and prepares healthy meals for her family. Young founded the non-denominational But God Ministries in Wheaton, Illinois, and a women’s empowerment ministry called W.E.A.P. (Women of Excellence, Ambition, and Purpose) to educate and uplift women, especially young women, to recognize their worth and prioritize their health before a significant medical crisis. “On June 10, 2024, my name was finally added to the national registry for heart transplants,” says Young. “It took me 4,440 days to achieve this goal.”

“My story is far too common”

Tiara Johnson developed PPCM in her late 20’s during the last month of her second pregnancy. Before she could be listed for a heart transplant, the doctor told her she would have to lose 100 pounds. “Adjusting my lifestyle wasn’t just about what I ate or how I moved, it was a mental, emotional, and physical battle,” she says. A nutritionist helped her understand her body with the condition, and she focused on heart-healthy nutrition, portion control, and building sustainable habits. “Every bite became a choice to fight for my life. Every pound I lost was hope for me. As the scale changed, so did my thought process.” She still follows a cardiac diet but confesses to an occasional Oreo.

To manage the disease while she waited on the heart transplant list, doctors implanted the Detroit mom with both the Abbott HeartMate 3 left ventricular assist device (LVAD) that allowed her heart to heal and the Abbott CardioMEMS, a sensor device the size of a paperclip that remotely flags early warning signs of worsening heart failure to her care team. At 31, Johnson successfully underwent transplant surgery. While she no longer has a heart pump, she continues to rely on the sensor to monitor her heart health. Today, now living in Missouri, her faith, determination, and life-saving technologies, plus the support of her husband and daughters, 17-year-old, Aranee’ and 9-year-old A’zuri, keep her grounded and focused. She is also committed to helping educate others about black maternal health through @pulsewithpurpose (currently on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok and YouTube), a space for women living with heart failure to talk about and navigate their care journey.

“The most difficult part about living with PPCM is feeling invisible in a system that wasn’t built to protect us,” Johnson explains. “My story is far too common — being dismissed, misdiagnosed, and sent home when I knew something was wrong.” As Johnson says, she didn’t choose this diagnosis, “but I’ve had to carry it while also carrying the burden of racial bias in healthcare. The hardest part hasn’t just been the physical illness—it’s been surviving a system that overlooks black women’s pain and then trying to heal in a world that keeps asking us to be strong without giving us the support or safety to do so.”

Before you go, check out our favorite mental health apps:

This level of anxiety is only amplified when you’re a Black mom, as you’re now trying to make sure that two lives receive proper care. It’s not easy. According to a 2018 California Health Report’s findings, health providers often don’t listen to mothers about their birth preferences and African American women are the least likely to be listened to, which in turn increases the risk of death and complications for the mothers and their babies. In addition, a 2023 CDC survey found that 30 percent of Black women reported mistreatment during maternal care, with 40 percent of Black women reporting that they also experienced discrimination.

The anxiety this causes can make it difficult for Black moms-to-be to feel comfortable asking their doctor questions, often leaving without a full understanding of a diagnosis and next steps. To help combat this, Dr. Camille Clare, MD, MPH, Chair of the Department of Obstetrics and Gynecology at SUNY Downstate Medical Center and Professor at the College of Medicine and the School of Public Health, suggests preparing before a doctor’s visit.

“One of the main things you can do is develop trust with your provider,” Dr. Clare tells SheKnows. “If you have any questions about anything particular that you’re worried about, come in with those questions so that you can start the dialogue with your physician.” Read below for additional things Black moms can say to their doctors when they aren’t being heard and to help facilitate trust between doctor and patient.

Ask them to repeat themselves

One of the main things Black moms-to-be can do in the doctor’s office when they feel like they aren’t being heard is to tell their physician to repeat themselves. “When a woman goes to a health care provider, it’s important to jot down notes based on the conversation so you can refer back to it,” Dr. Peggy Roberts, a doctoral prepared, board-certified, New York licensed Women’s Health Nurse Practitioner and founder of Trust Women’s Healthcare, tells SheKnows. “I think that that’s very important, especially if you’re hearing something that is not expected or getting some bad news. To make sure you’re getting everything, ask the provider to repeat the information.”

Tell them to give you additional resources and literature

Dr. Roberts also suggests telling your doctor to provide you with some literature you can refer to or additional resources. Dr. Clare agrees. “I sometimes refer my patients to the internet for resources that I know are accurate,” Dr. Clare says. “I don’t get one dollar if you check those sources, but I know I can rely on them. For example, the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists is a very reliable source of information for my patients. They also have a patient-facing website where my patients can get more information beyond our visit together.”

Tell them, “You’re not addressing my issues or concerns.“

When it comes to communicating with your doctor, transparency is key. That’s why Dr. Roberts says it’s best to be honest. “Saying, ‘I don’t think you’re listening or understanding my concerns,’ is okay. I’ve had patients who have said that to prior providers and even to me. Sometimes providers go through the spiel, thinking that we’re addressing everything, but there might be something we missed — we’re human. So be transparent and honest so the provider can rephrase.”

Ask them why they aren’t hearing you 

As mentioned, many doctors tend to dismiss and ignore the feelings and questions of their Black, female patients. This could be due to a lack of experience with patients of color or racial bias. In the same vein as being transparent, Black moms should feel empowered to figure out why a doctor isn’t hearing what they’re saying. If they don’t agree or understand a prescription or treatment, they should tell their doctor to note that in their chart.

Tell them you want a different provider

If all of the above fails, the truth is that there are many healthcare providers out there. “If you’re not connecting with the person you’re scheduled to see, you can choose to have another provider, especially if it’s not an emergency situation,” says Dr. Clare. She adds that in addition to looking elsewhere for a physician, it never hurts to seek a second opinion. “Look into finding someone else that you can connect with,” Dr. Clare says. “It’s not a problem to seek another opinion. It’s your right to be heard and to have an open dialogue with whoever’s taking care of you.”

You can learn more about the health crisis facing Black moms and birthing people here.

The gravity of Jasmine Marie’s work — and the name of her company itself — is so powerfully encompassed into three words: black girls breathing. Since 2018, she has dedicated her life to activism by helping Black women to heal their nervous systems as a breathwork practitioner, CEO, and speaker. Despite having a vocation that aims to release the weight of the world from marginalized shoulders, Jasmine Marie still finds the conception of her first book to be quite humorous. 

“I’m laughing because I didn’t see myself writing a book,” she admits. “Transparently, I had been approached by publishers in the past and I always said no. I was really focused on the work. I felt like writing a book — I always envisioned it later on in my career — would maybe be a distraction to me doing the work right now.”

Thankfully, one publisher was able to cut through Jasmine Marie’s incredulousness: Balance, an imprint helmed by a fellow Black woman. Through the insistence by vice president Nana K. Twumasi that a book could be a continuation of her mission, black girls breathing’s lead visionary now holds the title of author. Her first written work, Black Girls Breathing: Heal from Trauma, Combat Chronic Stress, and Find Your Freedom, serves as a guide for Black women to discover the power of breathwork through insights along her journey from stressed-out hustler to wellness luminary. 

In the midst of heightened political combat fueled by hatred and violence against the very community Jasmine Marie serves, the book-that-almost-didn’t-happen couldn’t be more essential. Across the country, Black women are continuing to cope with distress by prioritizing their health, and her latest offering is in deep alignment with their needs. So she’s vowed to set it free. 

“I did my part that I felt compelled to do,” she says, “and I hope it finds the people who need the resource,” she says way more modestly than you might expect. 

Black Girls Breathing: Heal from Trauma, Combat Chronic Stress, and Find Your Freedom by Jasmine Marie

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The systems that we live under gain so much from us staying disconnected from our bodies, especially right now. Talk to me about how breathwork reconnects the mind and the body and why the reestablishing of that connection is so powerful.

Breathwork is a tool that activates our parasympathetic nervous system; it’s the part of our nervous system that governs the ‘rest and digest’ functionalities in our bodies. There’s different types of nervous systems in our body, but the part of our nervous system that governs ‘fight or flight,’ producing a lot of adrenaline, stress hormones, and things of that nature, is activated for most of us people of color—for Black people. Because of our trauma, because of the generational trauma, individual trauma, societal trauma, the daily stressors that we have on our shoulders, that’s our rest state. Our rest state is in ‘fight or flight.’

So when it comes to our bodies responding to additional stress when it’s already in that state, no wonder we’re experiencing depression and irritability; it’s that lack of having capacity. Our bodies simply don’t have capacity. So the breath is meant to reset our nervous systems, to help it allow it to begin to have capacity for those daily stressors and give our body the tool to naturally jump in when there’s anxiety and stress by activating that parasympathetic nervous system. 

But it’s just like a muscle. If you’re chronically stressed, that part of our bodies really hasn’t been activated, it’s been suppressed. So using the breath to activate and turn on that part of our nervous system is allowing us to show up in those moments of extreme stress or daily stress as balanced as can be. Having tools inherently and working our body up to where it has what it needs to combat those moments is the work. And to your point, when we’re scattered we don’t feel grounded, we can’t organize, can’t think, we’re making irrational decisions. And so simply making the space to feel grounded in our bodies, have level-headed thinking and making sure our body is functioning properly, is activism.

The Black Girls Breathing book has three subtitles: Heal From Trauma, Combat Chronic Stress, Find Your Freedom. Is that sort of the path that you took? How do those three steps outline your personal journey?

That’s such a great question. I would say yes. I was chronically stressed working in New York City and kept having physical sensations of that stress. I found breathwork as a tool and used it personally. It was many years, six years of usage before I went to go get training for it. And then black girls breathing was birthed out of training for hosting group sessions. I feel like life is cyclical, so I’m always relearning lessons at different stages of my life. But that part of my life was having the blindfold ripped off as far as how I’ve been trained to operate. Graduating from a business school and going out into the working world, it was insinuated that stress is a part of success. So unlearning that in my body and using the tool of breathwork, I found myself uncovering the layers of trauma that led to the decisions I was making. 

Taking that step really unveiled all these repressed emotions. Traumas that my brain suppressed in order to protect me resurfaced, and I had to make peace with that and work through that to find my sense of freedom. There’s a whole chapter on how we can see failure as a tool to journey forward in a way that’s aligned and redefines what we feel is success. A lot of things we find ourselves chasing, we don’t even want. There’s things we see other people have and we convince ourselves that if we have that thing, it’ll do something for our worth. Finding that freedom, really sinking down into our own individual truths and allowing that to be our guide, is a constant unlearning. 

I do say often in the book and I have said throughout the work of black girls breathing: I know we’re not free; Black people are not free out in the world. My work has never been to exclude that reality, but to incorporate in the ways that we could feel inner freedom, which is the tool that our ancestors used to get by, to obtain, or seek to thrive. And in the 90 minutes that someone is in a breathwork session with us or on our platform, if they feel that inner freedom, then I’ve done my job.

You begin the book with discussing the intergenerational impact of chronic stress, really making it clear that it didn’t start with us and for us to remain conscious of that. Talk to me about the importance of keeping your lineage in mind when you’re trying to tackle your own nervous system.

There are fears we’ve inherited that have nothing to do with our current reality. With epigenetics, trauma gets passed down through DNA; but on the other side of that coin, trauma can be reprogrammed. We don’t have to stay in that state anymore. We can use breathwork and other tools to work with our subconscious mind to reframe our DNA. 

Our grandmothers and great-grandmothers were fearful for their lives when they took a chance or did something that seemed like a risk. So you may be upon a new chapter in life and you’re afraid of that uncertainty and change. You’re navigating a bit more fear than maybe a non-Black person or someone whose lineage hasn’t gone through the significant trauma of fears that have been realized in your bloodline, as far as taking risks and having it equal death and seeing that around them. So understanding that component is something we have to grapple with.

It can feel very taxing to be the person who comes to all the work when everyone else just hasn’t had the capacity or tools to do it. It’s about giving ourselves grace; we are the first ones learning self-care, learning trauma care, routine, learning to prioritize ourselves and implementing those tools existing in a world where it’s still dangerous. It can be dangerous to prioritize ourselves, that’s the reality of our lineage and aspects of our current reality as Black women. So having that self-compassion to know that it’s okay if you’re just learning this; as we get new knowledge, not punishing our former selves for not [having] that knowledge. 

And having that self-compassion provides wisdom, too. You’re dealing with wounds your parents had to, and you look at the tools that they had, and you’re like, ‘I understand. I can put some compassion towards what they were navigating.’

I want to double down on that, because in the book you also dismantle the idea that self-care is some sort of luxury. I think a powerful component of breathwork is that our breath comes with us everywhere. We don’t have to buy it. We don’t have to sign up for a subscription service to breathe. Talk to me a little bit about breathwork being an accessible tool to a community that is often robbed of access.

I always say if you’ve been breathing, you’ve technically been doing breathwork. Your body breathes, it knows how to breathe. We just focus our attention on making our breath more intentional. And it’s something that we all have access to if we are alive, it’s why it’s my favorite tool. We’re teaching people how to have better awareness of what their breath is doing in their body during different situations. We tend to stress when the part of our nervous system that’s in ‘fight or flight’ gets activated. When something occurs out in the world, noticing that our breathing gets shallow or we stop breathing, And then if we have that awareness, we can help our body. We can slow down our heart rate, we can stop the blood pressure from amping up, just from our breath. It’s a powerful tool that we all have access to. I loved it so much because differently-abled people within our community can virtually dial in with us and be breathing while feeling a sense of community. That’s important.

You round out the book by delving into the realm of possibility, with encouragement to dive deeper into taking up more space and dreaming. How does reconnecting with your body help you to dream?

Beautiful question, wow. I think the first step in what breathwork does in helping is to dream, is to create capacity for that. If our daily reality is so encompassed with traumas that aren’t addressed, we could have an opportunity that we’re not even viewing as an opportunity. Trauma just gets in the way of our progression, especially if we’re not aware of it. So the breath is providing capacity in the body and in the brain to allow for newness to come in, to not operate in past patterns. The breath allows us to heal from that first, and once that stuff has been set to the side — because we don’t forget our trauma, we can just hold them in a different way than we have in the past and not allow them to overcome us. Then we open up space, literal space, to dream. 

It is such a contentious time in our country. I wondered if you could share a quick tip or practice for any Black woman who is just scrolling and comes across a headline, or who was having a normal day and then heard about a new policy? Is there a simple offering you can give?

First things first, I’d tell you to protect your peace and limit your scroll time; be informed but not overconsumed. And I’ll leave you with the oceanic breath practice; in each chapter of the book, there are different breathwork practices. The oceanic is one of my favorites. 

So your mouth is going to be wide open, and you’re going to be inhaling into the mouth and exhaling out of the mouth. And the point at which you stop breathing in is when the lungs feel full, and then you go to deplete the lungs on the exhale, and upon that depletion go right back into an inhale. And it sounds like the waves of the ocean, that’s why it’s called an oceanic breath. Just a few rounds of that.

Before you go, check out our favorite mental health apps:

Beyond Access to Care

The issue goes beyond lack of access to care. It spans across all education levels and economic status. A 2023 Lancet study revealed that Black women face disproportionately higher death risks during and after childbirth, even with equal access to care. Consider tennis champion Serena Williams, who nearly died after giving birth when her concerns about blood clots were initially dismissed.

As I shared in my TEDx talk “Do No Harm,” even being a physician didn’t protect me from similar dismissal in the hospital where I practice. Despite repeatedly voicing that something was wrong and calling my doctor, I found myself as a physician fighting to be heard as my condition deteriorated. These aren’t isolated incidents — they represent a systemic problem. Professional status and healthcare access can’t protect Black women from the impact of systemic bias and racism.  

Confronting Uncomfortable Truths About Bias

We have to look at the role of unconscious bias, which is the social stereotypes formed about how people can look, think, or behave. The reality is not every patient is evaluated equally when they seek care, and thoughts such as “are they really in that much pain?” “Are they being dramatic?” “Are they drug seekers?” are uncomfortable realities that clinicians need to acknowledge and address. A study published in 2016 in Proceedings of the National Academies of Science showed that 40 percent of first- and second-year medical students had the false belief that “Black people’s skin is thicker than white people’s.” The study also found that trainees believed Black people are not as sensitive to pain as white people, and were less likely to treat Black people’s pain appropriately.

What Do We Need to Do?

To meaningfully reduce Black maternal deaths, we need to acknowledge that representation improves health outcomes, as studies have shown. In the US, Black physicians comprise less than 6 percent of US doctors despite Black Americans making up over 14 percent of the population. This representation gap matters.

We also need to invest in bias training and amplify Black women’s birth stories. These narratives highlight the challenges we face in American healthcare and the need for systemic change. The solution isn’t simply advancing technology or opening more clinics and hospital doors — it’s transforming what happens once we walk through them. Until we acknowledge that bias, not biology, drives these disparities, Black mothers will continue facing disproportionate risks in a healthcare system that should protect all lives equally.

Before you go, read about these celebs who’ve opened up about their autoimmune conditions:

Fiber is crucial to gut, heart and blood health. While less than 10% of adults are getting the fiber they need, studies show that increasing your fiber intake can help promote digestive health, heart health, and much more. Luckily, as Black women come face-to-face with the reality of aging, there are many wellness resources that can help. Metamucil’s 4-in-1 Fiber supplement and Metamucil Psyllium Fiber Capsules have the makings of medicine cabinet staples. With psyllium husk—a gel-forming fiber that can help support heart health by lowering cholesterol† and healthy blood sugar levels*—these products make a digestive promise that may sound like music to a Black woman’s ears.

Making an investment in your gut health goes a long way. A healthy diet and regular exercise should always be top of mind, but supplements can also be a game-changer for cultivating a healthier gut. Adding supplements to your wellness routine is also a small, easy way to invest in your own health, without sacrificing convenience.

“Wellness is a full body experience,” says lifestyle and wellness blogger, content creator and podcaster Toitime Storr. “So, when you see that you’re stressed ask yourself when was the last time you made an investment in you? Stop what you’re doing and change that.” In addition to the prospect of adding remedies like Metamucil to their arsenal, Black women are also snagging wellness secrets from their communities to support their journeys.

Metamucil Sugar-Free Orange Smooth Powder

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“Consistency is the key for me, and I must allow myself grace and patience. The athlete that I was in my 20s is not the same athlete at 50. I had to remind myself I didn’t gain the weight overnight so how can I expect for it to come off overnight.” —Graceful Melody Harrison, Self-Proclaimed Superhero

“What I have learned over my tenure clinically is: self-care is different per generation. For the older generation self-care would have been obtaining a home, marriage, being a mother at any cost. That was the golden standard. That’s what I find the elders reached for. 

A lot of the patients I’m seeing now are having symptoms in their body, but they don’t know why because they’ve followed the golden rule for their age group: get married, get a good job, find an employment situation that you can retire into, have children, and then retire. And they don’t know why they don’t feel happy. I find that what they didn’t get a chance to nurture is putting themselves first, which can be difficult to do in those dynamics. Many of my 60-plus clients have the financial security or monetary access, but they don’t have access to joy. They lost a good sense of what that is as they devoted themselves to their families and communities and church communities. 

With Generation X, I find that we were also striving for those gold standards, but because some of us were latchkey kids, some of us had parents that worked hard and didn’t have time to nurture our emotional needs, we’re a little bit more plugged in with our children in terms of emotional awareness. As a result of that, we slow things down a little bit. We have more language around emotions and emotional IQ, emotional regulation, and it’s very foreign to our parents.” — Dr. India Barkley D.Ac, Doctor of Acupuncture

“A message that I received from my community that includes wellness is to check in when feeling out of alignment. The mental load of being a woman, wearing multiple hats requires like-minded community to fill ourselves up.” —Natasha D’Anna, Blogger/Author

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“One of the secrets I would like to share with you in regard to health and wellness is the benefits of good sleeping habits. I’m a part of the community Traffic Sales and Profit, founded by author Lamar Tyler. They had a call, and on this call a woman was talking about the importance of sleep. She had an acronym called ‘NAP.’ The ‘N’ in the word ‘NAP’ stands for ‘No,’ making sure you say no to certain things. It may be late night conversations; it may be working late at night. Also, staying off your phone, staying off your iPad, off your computer. You have to say no to make sure you’re getting the quality that you need. 

The ‘A’ stands for the ‘Amount of Sleep.’ Now, many people will say, you need eight to 10 hours. I like to say seven hours is a good number, but the best way to figure out what you need for your body is to do a test for three days. You want to go to bed at the same time and don’t set an alarm and see when your body naturally wakes up. Count the hours that you slept, and that’s what your body needs in regard to sleep. Then you have the ‘P.’ With the P, we’re going to say, ‘Prepping and Planning.’ It’s very important that you plan your sleep and end it on a positive note. I like to put a jar on the side of the bed, and every night I put a note of something that I’m grateful for. So, to wrap it up: N: saying, no, A: the amount of sleep and P: writing something positively at the end of the night and preparing and planning.” — StarzTina Wilson, Life & Health Coach

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So it’s funny for me to share my story like this. A lot has changed.

I can still remember every detail of the day I was diagnosed with Stage 4 breast cancer. It was February 22, 2022, and I was 37 years old. I remember waking up with a headache, but I didn’t think anything of it. I went into work — I’m a senior revenue cycle manager, and I work with physician practices, and at the time I was working in-person at a practice. Something just didn’t feel right, so I asked the medical assistant to check my blood pressure.

My blood pressure was 160 over 100. (Editor’s note: normal blood pressure for most adults is less than 120 over less than 80, according to the National Institute on Aging.) So now my blood pressure was really high, I had this headache, and I had tingling in my arm, and I knew I had to run over to urgent care. When I got there, my blood pressure was even higher, and they told me I had to go to the hospital.

Keep in mind, this is all on my lunch break. And the first thing I said to them was, “Does this really have to be done right now? Because I need to pick up my kids from school.”

And they said, “Yes. We want to call you an ambulance, that’s how serious this is.” That was when I called my husband and told him what was going on, asked him if he could pick up our three kids (ages 18, 11, and 10 now).

When I got to the hospital, they ran some tests. My blood work came back fine, but they told me they wanted to take a chest X-ray. As soon they said that, I knew something was going on.

I get the X-ray and the doctor calls me in. He was younger, I could tell he was new. He was shaking with the paper in his hand. And he says, “We found a mass in your breast.”

I was pretty calm in the moment, but I just couldn’t believe it. I thought he was going to say, “Oh, you have anxiety. It’s stress-related.” You think of all the things it could possibly be, but you never think it’s going to be cancer.

I followed up with that same hospital for the next steps — they wanted to do an ultrasound, a mammogram, and a biopsy, all that same week. I was talking to a new doctor there, and he immediately wanted to do surgery, but I work in the medical field. I knew I should be getting a PET scan and probably an MRI, in addition to another CAT scan, before we got to surgery. (Editor’s note: a PET scan is an imaging test that looks at the metabolic function of your tissues and organs. It is often used to detect cancer and determine whether it has spread, per Mayo Clinic.)

But when I asked about the PET scan, he told me my insurance wouldn’t cover it. But I had already checked with my insurance and I knew it was a covered benefit.

I don’t know what he was thinking. Was it that he didn’t want to take the time to do the authorization or did he not have the staff in place to do it? Or was it because I’m Black, and he just assumed that I didn’t have good insurance? I hate to say that, but we all know it’s there.

And on top of all that, there was just no empathy for me. I get it, they deal with this all day long, but I was just diagnosed with cancer. I was a bit annoyed with his bedside manner. Can you just ask me if I’m OK?

I just knew that this wasn’t the care I needed, so I got a second opinion. And at the next provider’s office, I spoke with a nurse navigator, and the first thing she said to me was, “Are you OK?”  They asked if I needed help with my children and how my children and spouse were dealing with the diagnosis. It was just a totally different experience.

They got me the scans I needed to confirm the diagnosis, and they’re also the ones who found that the cancer had already spread to other spots. There were three masses in my breast, but it was also in my lymph nodes, my ribs, my hips, my shoulder, and my neck.

The first doctor wanted me to get surgery right away, but my new doctors told me I wasn’t even a candidate for surgery. There was no point to operating on my breast when it had spread to so many places. I think it was my medical background that empowered me to get a second opinion, but I also just had a gut feeling and I acted on it. And I probably wouldn’t be sitting here today if I allowed that first provider to do surgery on me.

I started chemotherapy once a week to shrink the masses down. I’ve improved since, so now I get it once every three weeks, and I’m also getting injections and taking an oral medication. My goal is to get to remission, and I know I’m going to get to that place where I can ring that bell and say, “This is my last chemotherapy session.”

It hasn’t been easy. I have lost fingernails from the chemo, I’ve lost toenails, I lost my hair. The neuropathy was a nightmare, this tingling and itching in my hands and feet. I had to wear mittens and booties with ice packs in them, because that was the only thing that would calm it down. I also lost weight, had vomiting and diarrhea. How can I forget how fatigued I was and am, even till this day? At one point all I could taste was metal, which is also a side effect of chemo.

And there were times when I felt hopeless. I prayed a lot, and I leaned on my husband a lot. He just kept reminding me that we weren’t going to let cancer win.

I had to push myself to stay present with my family though, especially my kids. One time, I got sick and had to stay in the hospital for two days — not COVID, not RSV, just a regular cold that the cancer made worse. After that, I was scared to go out again. I didn’t even want to go to the grocery store.

But I saw how it affected my kids and it broke my heart. My son plays basketball at his high school, and I was streaming his games online instead of going in-person, but I think physical presence means a lot to my kids. Once I realized that, I started to get more involved, coming to games and wearing a face mask. I think just being present made things better for them. Now I’m not missing anything. I’m going to be there because my family means the world to me.

But at the same time, I realized I had to get more vulnerable. I had been ashamed at my diagnosis, because I thought having cancer was going to disable me, so I wasn’t going to be able to do everything I used to. I still have trouble letting myself rest, even through the chemo, because I want to show I’m still strong. I can still do it. That’s just how I’ve always been.

The more I opened up about it and let other people help, though, the better I felt. My family even threw me a fundraiser event, which I initially didn’t want because I didn’t want people to feel sorry for me. But eventually we did it, and we had 212 people show up, even people I didn’t know who just wanted to help and support. I couldn’t believe it. They had something like 60-plus raffle baskets they auctioned off.

So with all of that, I felt like it was time to open up and talk about everything, even though I’m such a private person. I feel like if I can give back just by talking or giving advice, then you know what? I’ll do it.

And the advice I’d give to other Black women especially is, first of all, if something doesn’t feel right, go with your gut and get it checked out. Don’t wait. And second, you have to take care of yourself first.  If you don’t take care of yourself, how can you take care of anyone else? To be honest, I was not taking care of myself. Yes, I was 37, so I wasn’t due to start getting mammograms yet, but I wasn’t a healthy person. I didn’t eat healthy and I didn’t exercise.

My suggestion to other Black women would be to make healthier choices by eating better, by exercising every day. It only takes a few minutes to take a walk. Even now, I have a desk cycle for exercise, because I sit behind a desk all day. Every little bit counts. As Black women, we have to do better for ourselves and for our families.

When people ask me how I feel now, it’s like, “I woke up to see another day, and I’m thankful for that.” I can deal with the chemo side effects, I can deal with all of it, as long as I’m here to see another day and see my husband off to work. As long as I’m here to see my kids off to school, I’m good.

As told to Maggie Ryan

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So how does it work? Based on data programmed into a computer, an AI algorithm creates a standard to determine malignancy and risk scores that will directly impact the level of care a patient receives. The Food and Drug Administration believes this information will help researchers understand the relationship between patient characteristics: age, ethnicity, breast density, malignancy, and risk, with the ultimate goal of reducing rates of breast cancer. It’s a worthy goal, but experts have found one major issue: the success of AI screenings for white and Asian women compared to disappointing outcomes for Black women.

Dr. Regina Barzilay is a professor of electrical engineering and computer science at MIT who specializes in the intersection of AI and health. While not involved in the Duke study, Dr. Barzilay told SheKnows that AI tools may sometimes “underperform on certain racial or demographic groups if they are underrepresented in the training data on which the algorithm is developed.”

The Duke Medical team wasn’t the only group to show this type of bias in the research. Other studies focused their efforts on European women and most clinical trials were outside of the United States, further erasing unique markers of Black women in their reports. “One big fix that needs to happen is to have large datasets of mammograms that represent a diverse patient population,” Dr. Barzilay noted. “Another important aspect is testing these models in different demographic groups to ensure that they are unbiased.”

The problem is, the FDA does not require diversity of data, continuing to rely on racially biased risk assessment tools like Tyrer-Cuzick or the Gail Model that do not factor in family history of cancer or racial or ethnic differences when creating guidelines — and that affects these AI screenings. According to Breastcancer.org, technicians train the AI by entering millions of images into computers so AI software can convert the information into a mathematical representation of what a normal mammogram looks like and what a mammogram with cancer looks like. From that information, the AI creates a baseline that becomes the standard of what normal breast tissue looks like. But if that baseline is based on a dataset that’s skewed towards a certain demographic, that means the current AI screening practices may not be the best option for those outside the demographic; in this case, non-white and older women.

The Duke study reveals the limitations of AI breast cancer screenings that we still need to overcome. For Black women who are genetically predisposed to breast cancer due to first degree (parent, child, or cousin) family history or presence of the BRCA gene, or even low risk candidates hoping to stave off the disease, the news is discouraging. As long as the standard for normal breast tissue excludes patient characteristics along race, health, and life span, outlooks for Black women remain poor.

Inequities in health care for Black women are not new, and medical professionals are dedicating their careers to understanding why this demographic is prone to more advanced stages of breast cancer and cancers in general. Dr. Melissa Davis of Morehouse Medical College is one who has answered the call with SAMBAI, which stands for Social, Ancestry, Molecular and Biological Analysis of Inequalities. With a $25 million dollar grant from the Cancer Grand Challenges, Dr. Davis’ team is committed to creating a database of 40,000 people from multiple African countries, as well as people of recent African heritage in the UK and US, to ensure representation for more accurate data collection. After all, AI algorithms are only as good as the information they’re given.

Another option to improve AI screenings of Black women is MIRAI, an AI screening tool developed by Dr. Barzilay and Dr. Adam Yala, an assistant professor in computational precision health, statistics, and computer science at UCSF and UC Berkeley. According to Dr. Barzilay, “MIRAI addresses a different task: we aim to predict future risk of the disease. It is important because it enables extra screening and preventative resources for women who are at high risk.” And it’s especially relevant for Black women, who are diagnosed with breast cancer at a younger age, on average, than white women, according to research. “At the same time, we don’t want to over screen them,” Dr. Barzilay added. “One possible scenario is to screen them first at a younger age in order to identify a small cohort of women who are truly high risk and who need to be screened differently.”

So far, only 9% of radiologists in the United States are regularly using AI for breast imaging, according to Breastcancer.org. It’s also important to note that the technology will not replace human clinicians. Rather, it will help reduce and manage the workload of radiologists to improve outcomes for breast cancer patients with more accurate screenings. Undoubtedly, AI breast imaging could be a life-saving screening tool — but that will not happen until all women are represented in its algorithms.

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“If we look at Black American women and we even go back to slavery, Black American women were taught to take care of others. We weren’t taught to take care of ourselves,” she tells SheKnows. “We weren’t taught to even know what we needed. If someone were to ask us if we needed help, we weren’t taught what that all looks like.” 

In 2004, Dr. Denyse started a nonprofit organization, Carrie’s TOUCH, with her now-late sister Lynne Rankin-Cochran who battled bladder cancer until her passing in 2013. Their work has brought Black women surviving breast cancer into a community driven by education and advocacy. But the organization wasn’t named after someone with the disease; it was named after her late mother who was killed by her abusive husband when Denyse was just 14 years old. 

“A lot of people think that Carrie, the namesake for the organization, actually passed from breast cancer. She didn’t. She was a sufferer of domestic violence,” Denyse points out. “And I believe, had my mom been empowered to say ‘no,’ A. She would have never gotten into that bad marriage. B, she would have never took the abuse that she took C, she wouldn’t have taken it as long as she took it, and D, it wouldn’t have ultimately taken her life. I knew as a young girl that that would not be my trajectory, and I was determined then, 45 years ago, to have a different outcome for my life.”

Just as lineage sits at the root of her work, so does personal experience. After an admittedly “ignorant and insensitive” reaction to a woman at her church who was receiving chemotherapy for breast cancer, Dr. Denyse was diagnosed with the same disease a year later, getting the news while she was in the car with her three children. “I was more offended that the doctor didn’t receive the fact that I said, ‘No, this isn’t a good time to have this conversation’ than her actually telling me I had breast cancer,” Dr. Denyse says. It was the beginning of a journey that would find her breaking down the ways of Black women’s past even further. 

Carrie’s TOUCH has gathered a bevy of breast cancer resources for Black women on their mobile app, a first of its kind. The app includes educational videos and various other means of support, including free or low-cost therapy, financial assistance, oncologist recommendations and social support through groups in-person and online. The organization also produces a podcast entitled No Longer Silent: Patient Access Stories, which highlights the stories of Black people navigating the healthcare system. Carrie’s TOUCH is also leading the charge in research geared toward Black women with initiatives like Project SOAR, a series of focus groups exploring the relationship between breast cancer and the “strong Black woman” schema through the African concept of “Ubuntu,”meaning “humanity to others”. The non-profit’s multi-pronged approach mirrors the long, winding road towards healthcare equality for Black women.

The statistics for Black women with breast cancer tell a harrowing story; perhaps the most well-known is the death rate for Black women with the disease, which is 41 percent higher than that of white women, per the Breast Cancer Research Foundation. There is also, however, the significant levels of anxiety and depression symptoms that Black breast cancer patients experience, and the glaring disparity in private health insurance and access to quality care. Dr. Denyse is staunch in her efforts to “dismantle the 41 percent,” criticism be damned. “The problem is that the needle hasn’t moved,” she says. “I knew 20 years ago that they weren’t putting the resources into saving Black women’s lives the way they were putting resources into saving white women’s lives.” Detractors have tried to challenge her, but she’s firm in her fight for inclusion where it counts. “When you don’t have adequate representation in clinical trials which inform what type of resources and medications and even policy is available to us, when the data is skewed, it’s missing the melting pot of people that are in this country and it leaves us, 20 years down the road, reciting the same statistic.”

Research has also shown a direct relationship between support and survival. In a study on Black breast cancer patients published in Social Science & Medicine, an important link was made: “Women whose social support declined during the first year after diagnosis reported more severe depressive symptoms and worse general health perceptions at two years.” Dr. Denyse underscores the importance of communal support by turning a popular phrase on its ear. “I have recently started saying, ‘Yeah, black don’t crack on the outside, but if you come on the inside there’s a lot of broken pieces internally.’ I think when we are in community, we get to share the burden.”

Thankfully, there are a number of organizations working alongside Carrie’s TOUCH to reduce mortality rates for Black women with breast cancer. Longtime groups like the African American Breast Cancer Alliance and Sisters Network Inc boast decades of advocacy, while newer organizations continue to enter the space like For The Breast of Us and Touch BBCA (Black Breast Cancer Alliance). Each of these organizations offers specialized community services to Black women with breast cancer, including social support, education, advocacy, and forums for discussion. Through all of their work, Black women’s capacity to go it alone is beautifully challenged. “It’s not until you force people to sit down and you say, ‘Give me two people that you could call right this second, and they’d drop everything and be here with you. That’s your inner circle,’” Dr. Denyse explains. “We hear it all the time when somebody’s sick. ‘Hey? Just let me know if you need anything.’ Most people are waiting on the phone call, but we don’t make it.”

The disparities Black women face are also global and widespread throughout the African diaspora. In a colorful anecdote, Dr. Denyse shares that on a trip to Starbucks before her sister’s passing, they saw a cover image in The New York Times that featured a woman dying from breast cancer on the streets of Sierra Leone. She resolved to take her work to Africa from that moment—a manifestation that found her in Ghana not too long afterwards. On a visit led by Dr. Beatrice Wiafe, Dr. Denyse found herself laying hands on various women, sharing her survival story and letting them know that God has not forsaken them. 

“Now I don’t tell you that story to talk about how great I am. I tell you that story to talk about the fact that we’re having this conversation around Black women with breast cancer. And there’s still a disparity that minimizes our survivorship rates,” Denyse passionately expresses. “We are not present in the research. We don’t have adequate support in community. And it’s because I believe we are not seen as human. Our humanity is not seen, which means you don’t see our need. You don’t have compassion for our pain. You don’t have love, generosity, and all the things that you need to survive this disease.”

A lack of humanity begets a lack of education in many cases. Though most are aware of more popular warnings like the significance of early detection, there are lesser-known facts that many are still learning. For example, if there is a history of breast cancer in your family, medical professionals advise you to start receiving mammograms 10 years earlier than the age your family member was diagnosed. There is also a difference between how you perform a self-exam on your breasts (which should happen regularly) and a clinical breast exam (which should be performed yearly). It’s the kind of information that’s vital for a community facing disproportionate death, and the kind of tips Denyse shares ad nauseam. 

Like every powerful visionary, Dr. Denyse is motivated by the possibility of a better future, as evidenced in her bestselling book, The Power of Hope: Reclaiming Your Life After Tragedy. When asked what she dreams for Black women surviving breast cancer years from now, she draws inspiration from Dr. Martin Luther King’s famous speech at the March on Washington: “I dream that one day black women will survive this disease at the same rates that white women do. I dream of a day where all women are included in research, and there is a diversity minimum that has to be in a part of every single clinical trial that is conducted. I dream of new medications that might need to target Black and brown bodies that are not the same,” Denyse says with a piercing stare and utmost clarity. “I dream of more love and more compassion and more understanding. I dream that people can see Black women and our humanity, and know that we hurt too, and that we deserve love. We deserve to be cared for, we deserve to be able to cry, and not feel guilty or ashamed of it, of the tears.”

She’s careful, still, to leave room for Black women not to be everyone’s savior. 

“And I dream of a sisterhood of support that we can call each other when we need our sister-friends and our sister-friends will be there, and if that sister-friend happens to be on a respite where she’s doing her own self-care. There’s no repercussions. We all need self-care. And if that’s that sister’s time for self-care, she’s not the appointed one for you in this season, and that is okay.”

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Culturally, Black women may be reluctant to seek care, owing to their historical misuse as science experiments for gynecological advances, harvested stem cells without permission and sterilization practiced well into the 20th century. Mistrust leads to delayed diagnosis coupled with “healthcare system biases, and suboptimal care,” Dr. Bodour tells SheKnows. “Additionally, environmental exposures, lifestyle factors, and structural racism play significant roles in increasing risk and negatively affecting outcomes.” Unfortunately, these health disparities are costing Black women their lives.

Younger Ages at Diagnosis

Typically, breast cancer rates in women go up after age 50, with diagnosis in white women spiking between ages 60 to 84. Black women, on the other hand, are more likely to be diagnosed before age 45 compared to women of other races. The type of cancer will dictate treatment and it is imperative that if a knot, mass or lump is felt in the breast or underarm region, an appointment with a healthcare professional is made immediately.

Timing is everything when it comes to cancer. Antoinette Greer, co-founder and CEO of My Sister My Friend, Breast Cancer Support, a survivorship organization, run by survivors in Long Beach, California, learned this when she was 38 years old. Her mammogram detected a mass, but doctors told her it was a calcification and sent her home. Because her mother had breast cancer, she tells SheKnows, she should have advocated for that the fast-growing mass to be moved immediately. Instead, two years passed and Greer developed Stage 3B breast cancer, also known as locally advanced cancer, requiring a modified radical mastectomy, six months of chemotherapy, and twenty-six treatments of radiation.

After beating the odds, she started an affiliate chapter of the Houston, Texas-born Sister Network. “Black women are most comfortable in culturally competent spaces, and our organization offers resources, screening assistance, advocacy, and has presenters from the FDA, breast surgeons, fitness experts,” Greer explains. “We have women at all stages of their cancer journey so they can see where you have been or what’s on the horizon.” That means finding support for everything from the shock of diagnosis to the various griefs that treatment brings. Greer pointed out that losing hair to chemotherapy or radiation, for example, can be especially stressful and scary for a Black woman. First revered as her “crown and glory”, Black hair has been politicized and weaponized by family members, pop culture and the media to simultaneously uplift and demean Black women’s beauty.

Scientific Strides

While Greer is making a difference locally, the scientific community must use their expertise to save the lives of Black women, sooner rather than later. One way to make a difference is by including Black women in cancer research. According to the Journal of American Medical Association, only 2 percent of participants in oncology trials were Black women compared to 84 percent White women, which means that unique cultural and environmental experiences of Black women are not considered when formulating medicine or treatments.

It’s a huge miss, but one that experts are ready to rectify. The American Cancer Society, for example, launched VOICES of Black Women earlier this year, an initiative to obtain data about Black women’s bodies that will improve health outcomes for future generations. Open to Black women between the ages of 25-55 years old who do not have cancer, the goal is to study 100,000 women for the next 30 years to understand this demographic better.

“Fighting For Our Lives”

Another way to increase survivorship is self-advocacy. Dr. Mediget Teshome, chief of breast surgical oncology at UCLA, suggests women start with their primary care provider or gynecologist. “Share your family history about cancer anywhere in your family and consider taking an online risk assessment to get an idea if you are average or high risk,” she tells SheKnows. “This information helps with screenings. And, if your mammogram is normal but you have symptoms, ask for an evaluation.”

This is the path Miriam Ha, a physician assistant in Los Angeles, took in 2022, when her mammogram did not detect a lump in her breast that she herself could feel. She kept checking herself throughout the day but the small pinky-sized lump did not go away. A non-smoker with no first-degree relatives (parent, sibling or child) with cancer, she was told that she was low-risk. An ultrasound later revealed otherwise.

Ha, who had an HMO, was told it would be eight-weeks before she could see the surgeon, whose schedule was full. Unwilling to accept the delay in treatment, Ha reminded the scheduler that the HMO’s policy stated that 14-days from diagnosis was the timeline to implement a plan, which included an MRI to check for metastasis as well as actual surgery. Then, she encountered another delay because the MRI facility she was referred to was also booked.

“I insisted on being sent to one with a space and they found one,” she tells SheKnows. “I pushed because time was of the essence.” Ha made her HMO adhere to their medical treatment policy and ultimately underwent a bilateral mastectomy to decrease her anxiety about complications of reconstructive surgery as well as recurrence. Because removing breasts doesn’t remove the entire risk of cancer recurrence, she also made life changes like retiring from a stressful job, living a clean life, and eating foods high in antioxidants.

Now on the other side, Ha encourages other Black women to find their voices too. “We are literally fighting for our lives,” she says.

Treating Breast Cancer & Reducing Risk For Black Women

Treatment for breast cancer will vary. Not everyone will need a mastectomy, chemotherapy, and radiation or genetic testing. If you have the BRCA gene, a more aggressive form of treatment may be needed, such as a hysterectomy and bilateral mastectomy. Of equal importance is breast cancer in Black men. Dr. Teshome shares, “breast cancer affects men to a lesser degree than women, but Black men are diagnosed at higher rates than white men. Also, a male family member with breast cancer should prompt genetic testing.” She offers a couple of additional tips:

Other ways Black women can reduce breast cancer risk is through a healthy lifestyle:

More broadly, much needs to change to address the concerning trends in breast cancer when it comes to Black women. “Equitable access to quality healthcare, including screenings and advanced treatments, must be ensured,” Dr. Bodour says. “Addressing socioeconomic inequities and combating structural racism within healthcare are crucial for providing fair and unbiased care.” Community outreach, culturally sensitive education to promote earlier detection and healthcare-seeking behaviors, investing in targeted research, personalized medicine, and reducing harmful environmental exposures — all of these will play a role.

It won’t be easy, but ultimately, the tide can turn and disparities in breast cancer outcomes for Black women can be reduced.

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