What I’m Returning To When Things Feel Heavy
Resources that help make sense of care, policy, and community in uncertain times
Welcome to The Community Letter’s monthly resource share from the Enhance Black Women’s Health Community. In this edition, we look at the tools, research, conversations, and resources that are actually helping patients, providers, and advocates navigate Black women’s health and stay grounded in the work.
It’s the end of January, and I know so many of my friends, colleagues, and family members are deeply hurting right now. I keep finding myself wanting the “right” answer for how to navigate a world in which human lives are increasingly devalued.
The reality is that we cannot control how others respond to the world around them, but we can control how we respond. This letter isn’t about having all the answers. It’s about sharing what’s been genuinely useful for better understanding the issues, navigating care, and finding community in heavy and uncertain times.
With that said, here’s what I’ve been returning to this month.
1. Context Worth Knowing
Two weeks ago, I had the privilege of speaking with author and professor Dr. Wylin Wilson, who helped me grapple with how, as a society, we have come to normalize Black suffering.
In medical settings, it’s not uncommon to hear Black patients describe pain only to be denied medication. Not because the medication isn’t needed, but because of a presumption that Black patients asking for pain relief must have a drug addiction. These assumptions are deeply rooted in long-standing medical myths that Black people don’t feel pain.
This context matters deeply for Black women’s health. We continue to see Black women’s pain dismissed across care settings, including during pregnancy and postpartum. These dismissals are not just ethical failures. They have contributed directly to preventable harm and death, including Black maternal mortality, because Black women are not being listened to when it matters most.
I share this because, contrary to popular belief, normalizing Black suffering is not inevitable. There is so much we can do differently.
We can stop believing the myth that Black people don’t feel pain.
We can stop assuming that requests for pain relief signal addiction.
We can start listening to Black women’s concerns during and after pregnancy.
Preventing suffering begins with refusing to normalize it in the first place.
2. Care in Practice
As a Substacker, I love subscribing to other newsletters that explore health and well-being in ways that complement the work we do here. I greatly appreciated Chrissy King’s take on having 2026 INs and OUTs instead of resolutions.
Two that especially resonated with me were unsubscribing from email lists that no longer serve you and letting go of items you haven’t used in years. Both feel like small but meaningful acts of care that create more breathing room. This is something I want to be more intentional about this year.
3. Community & Lived Experience
I attended a life-giving conference this past weekend, where a question that came up repeatedly was this: What’s the difference between calling out where institutions can improve and wishing for an institution’s downfall?
In the times we’re living in, that question feels especially relevant in healthcare. When I saw this petition from Nurses SHIFT Change, it clearly illustrated that distinction for me. The presence of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) in healthcare settings creates real barriers to care. Even when patients and families are legally in the U.S., fear can keep them from seeking the preventive care they need.
If the pandemic taught us anything, it’s that delaying care comes with real consequences. Protecting access to care isn’t about tearing institutions down. It’s about calling them to their responsibility to protect human life and public health.
Community Prompt
As January comes to an end, the question I’m sitting with is this: what’s our role in enhancing the health of our communities in 2026?
Even amid policy changes that can make it feel like we’re not in control of much, we still control the actions we choose to take. What’s one action, boundary, or conversation you’re prioritizing this year to support the health of your community?
Join the conversation in the comments.
Until next month,
Tomesha