Capacitar pessoas historicamente excluídas para liderar no setor de mídia significa trazer seu talento - bem como suas experiências vividas - para o primeiro plano. Contar suas histórias exclusivas geralmente significa oportunidades para que o público se conecte mais profundamente com os personagens ou manchetes que representam seu próprio caminho; um caminho que, de outra forma, poderia não ter sido visto. Um exemplo perfeito e recente surgiu quando um problema crítico de saúde que afetava a comunidade negra assumiu o centro das atenções no final de 2021 - e não estou me referindo à COVID-19.
For those that haven’t binged Amazon Prime’s new show Harlem, episode seven, aptly titled “The Strong Black Woman,” hits a little too close to home.
[Spoiler alert: this paragraph contains spoilers from Harlem.] The Harlem crew’s resident boss Tye, portrayed by Jerrie Johnson, is trying to push through crippling abdominal and back pain until finally she ends up having emergency surgery. The diagnosis? A ruptured cyst. And the suggested treatment? A hysterectomy. From the doctor’s hesitancy to prescribe appropriate pain medication to the dismissive approach to a potentially life-altering course of treatment, this episode was tragically a very relatable portrayal of disparities in Black women’s health care.
Em 2013, fui diagnosticada com uma doença igualmente dolorosa e comum: miomas uterinos. Minha experiência pessoal se concentrou em uma cirurgia de seis horas para remover vários tumores benignos, cujo diâmetro variava de uma bola de golfe ao tamanho de uma toranja. Lembro-me do conselho irreverente de "simplesmente ter um bebê" antes de fazer a cirurgia, conhecida como miomectomia. Lembro-me do estresse e da ansiedade antes e depois da cirurgia. E lembro-me da farmácia local que não aviou a receita completa de analgésicos após a cirurgia - e da indignação do meu médico na consulta pós-operatória quando soube que eu estava me recuperando em casa com apenas um suprimento para três dias.
While Tye’s case demonstrated the disruptive impact of ovarian cysts, her story was also closely relatable to me—and the 26 million women between the ages of 15 and 50 that develop uterine fibroids, according to the U.S. National Library of Medicine. For Black women in particular, reproductive health conditions and the ongoing obstacles to compassionate, informed and effective treatment that too often accompany them, are a common part of life. How common? Nielsen Scarborough data shows that Black women between the ages of 35 to 49 are nearly six and a half times more likely to have been diagnosed with fibroids.
And the percentage of young Black women impacted by fibroids is staggering—especially considering the emotional toll of the diagnosis along with the physical symptoms. A recent study in the American Journal of Obstetrics & Gynecology found that the stressors related to a fibroids diagnosis can be just as debilitating as a diagnosis of heart disease, diabetes, or even breast cancer. Groups like The White Dress Project have been working for years to raise awareness, advance legislation and provide a support network for those living with fibroids and seeking treatment. But the power of representative storytelling in both scripted television and news content ensures an even greater reach on this topic; one that remains largely silent outside the Black community and Black media.
Nielsen’s recent Being Seen On Screen report revealed that programs with Black women in the writer’s room delivered content that not only centered Black women on screen, but also offered different context in how they were portrayed. On a program like Harlem, that’s created, led and mostly written by Black women, it’s no wonder the impact of this pervasive health crisis and the obstacles many of us face seeking treatment became a centerpiece of a character’s story. But their program wasn’t the only one to boldly confront key issues facing Black reproductive health last year. Tiffany Cross, host of MSNBC’s Cross Connection, revealed she underwent the oft recommended hysterectomy to end her years-long battle with fibroids. It was the first time I’d seen the details of the condition, let alone this course of treatment openly discussed by an anchor on TV.
So little about how these conditions develop—and why they impact Black people at higher rates—remains unknown. But television can play an important role in raising awareness as well as empathy. Importantly, Black women are twice as likely to seek out TV content where they’re seen on screen. This means there’s an opportunity to amplify the need for research, prevention, and less invasive procedures—as well as normalizing consultative and nondiscriminatory care.
Como você provavelmente viu ao longo deste Mês da História Negra e do foco em Saúde e Bem-Estar, há um longo caminho a percorrer para resolver as desigualdades em nossa saúde. Mas minha esperança é que continuemos a ver mulheres negras destacando as disparidades e inspirando mudanças à medida que a diversidade significativa continua a se infiltrar no setor de mídia.
