Celebrating Black History Month in the IBD Community

“Representation creates trust, so why aren’t there more people who look like me included in research and education?” This quote by Melodie Narain-Blackwell brilliantly describes the feelings that so many Black and brown IBD patients have. In recognition of Black History Month, what can we as a chronic illness community do to support our fellow Black IBD patients this month? Standing in solidarity with this marginalized community, helping amplify their voices, and acknowledging their experiences are ways to starting bridging those gaps. 

It is important to support BIPOC patients by recognizing the additional barriers that minorities, especially those in the Black community, face when navigating medical care and public health. Historically, Black people have been marginalized, abused, experimented on, and underrepresented in medical trials and research. Being seen as easily disposable, Black people have had to endure the systemic injustices of medical discrimination and medical racism. Crohn’s and ulcerative colitis are chronic diseases that statistically occur less frequently in African-Amercian populations. Statistics also show that Black people are more likely to not have their symptoms believed or validated, which has ushered a crisis of misdiagnoses. It is clear that implicit bias and antiquated medical beliefs are factors in the hesitation that Black people experience in the medical field. This phenomenon has led to an inherent distrust of medical institutions and treatment in the black community. As IBD patients we understand that having the right diagnosis and starting treatment is vital for healing and longevity. This concern is magnified in the Black community due to the systemic injustices previously mentioned.

 When I first started to become ill in 2019, I did have some internal generational trauma that made me hesitant when seeking medical care. After months and months of pain I finally decided to go to the hospital to get some answers. When speaking to the doctor about symptoms, I vividly remember feeling an overwhelming sense of unease rattle through my bones. What happens if my experiences and symptoms aren't taken seriously? How can I truly convey the severity of how I feel? Although I did not receive a proper diagnosis from the hospital, I was lucky enough to have the staff members at the hospital believe and validate me. I was privileged that this was not an overtly terrible experience, but it does not take away from any reservations I had, as well as the reservations that countless other Black people have. 

We must acknowledge and hold space for Black people within the IBD community through advocacy. Having a diverse range of anecdotes and stories will only propel this community to further embrace the lived experiences of so many Black and brown people who are voiceless. Education and conscious activism will only lead to more positive intersectional change. 

In recognition and celebration of Black History Month, here are a few black pioneers in the IBD community as well as Gastroenterology:

Sadye Beatryce Curry was the first female African-American gastroenterologist in the United States. On top of her endless list of accomplishments, she was a founding member of the Leonidas Berry Society for Digestive Disease as well as the first woman to be elected chair for the Internal Medicine Section of the National Medical Association.

Leonidas Berry was the first African-American gastroenterologist in the United States as well as a pioneer for the advancement of endoscopy procedures. Dr. Berry also invented the gastroscopy scope. Leonidas Berry has a passion for bridging the gap of racial problems in public health. 

Gary Richter is a gastroenterologist and currently runs Consultative Gastroenterology in Atlanta, and has become the first African-American president of the Medical Association of Atlanta. 

Melodie Narain-Blackwell is the founder of Color of Crohn’s and Chronic Illness (COCCI) which is a nonprofit focused on increasing quality of life for minorities who battle IBD and related chronic illnesses.

Reflections: The Importance of Advocacy for IBD

It’s a little strange to title this article ‘Reflections,’ because IBD is unique in that it’s always ongoing, with nothing to really jump over and look back on to reflect; with the journey still very much running, our reflections are inbuilt into it.

 As I write this, I’ve been in remission from ulcerative colitis for more than a year. From the time I was accepted to be a CCYAN fellow to now, I have already been through a rollercoaster of new emotions: from immense gratitude and relief that I am finally a fellow of a network that I closely followed for several months to staggering self-doubt about whether I can truly do this opportunity justice. While poles apart, my feelings of gratitude and self-doubt and the largeness of the two do stem from the same root. After I was diagnosed with UC at the age of 19, I desperately needed to know more people who faced the same struggles. With little else to focus on in those starting years, hope would glimmer every time I found out about a famous personality or someone I knew who opened up about their chronic illnesses.

 The way an invisible chronic illness creeps up on young adults is very much like a thief breaking in your house when you’re asleep and stealing things that don’t seem so valuable at first sight but without which you can’t really survive (like all your dishes). As young adults, we are so entitled toward our bodies and organs functioning properly that there’s no way to prepare or even know you will be impacted and when you do, people have very strong opinions on what you could have done to avoid it. And if, like some organs, dishes weren’t replaceable and the upkeep of the damages was constant, the last thing anyone would want is to deal with the struggle alone and keep it private. At least that’s how I felt. As soon as I was diagnosed, I let everyone around me know mostly everything except for the “impolite” specifics. Sometimes if the gravity of my situation wasn’t acknowledged, I would push to reveal the impolite specifics too. Concurrent to my health challenges, I was still also learning aspects of a broad society I had entered just two years before I got UC. As I rushed to speak and be heard, I realized, through the fear of my family and the discomfort of peers and friends, just how closed this society is towards these things.

When there are no voices for something that drastically alters every aspect of your life, it feels as though you’ve been dropped off to a completely new city with no maps for guidance. Maps are important for not only getting you from point A to point B, but also giving you a sense of orientation to gauge where you are with respect to everything around you. No voices = no maps. By far, in India today, invisible illnesses not only lack visibility in patients' external bodies, but also in national and private datasets, policies, and advocacy. This leaves patients disorientated and vulnerable to quackery (health fraud), which results in the loss of crucial time, finances, and deterioration of mental health (with the ups and downs of new hope and disappointment).

If the silence around personal disturbances was anything to go by, then I did not do a very good job of fitting in to my society as I always took the opportunity to talk about what I was going through even when I realized with passing time that it wasn’t always welcome or understood completely. I thought I should speak up all the more, because if no one does, who will vouch for me? This casual monologue took greater form in my first experience of being at a public hospital in my city. By that time, I had scoured the internet for people like me, experiences like mine, unique symptoms like mine, etc. I had come to recognize some feelings that came as a by-product of my illness through Hank Green’s videos on YouTube, and that the illness was bigger than me and my doctors (who only focused on the strict textbook aspects of IBD). My mom and brother very supportively drove and accompanied me for my sigmoidoscopy and I even got to sit as I waited for my turn. Waiting for countless hours after the scheduled time of my appointment, I was busy drowning in my pond of self-pity. When I heard a young lady slightly older than me was invited to go before me, I was very irritated and urged my mom to leave and reschedule. My experienced mother knew better. As I waited, I could hear the conversation between the young patient and the doctors in the room next door. She was a daily wage worker and her grumbles about missing work, her stomach pain (due to which she tilted sideways when she walked) and the tedious hours she spent waiting for her turn followed her into the room. The doctors didn’t indulge her in any sympathy, but rather curtly started the process. I wondered out loud why they hadn’t offered her a sedative – whenever I was asked, I always thought what a preposterous thing to ask when the process was so intrusive and uncomfortable. It was because she was alone and needed to hear the doctor’s findings and, of course, had to head back home alone. Even in my miserable state, that struck something in me. Her yells and shouts during the process, and the surrounding patients’ aloofness painted a picture so bleak, I was forced to look beyond my situation and recognize that despair like mine was still placed high on privilege. Granted that sigmoidoscopies are not the most pleasant of processes to go through or even prepare for, her shouts seemed out of place. I gathered it was more of a release from the anxiety of being alone and in such a vulnerable position with no emotional support. It took me back to a brief, mostly one-sided exchange she and I had before she was called in. From the little I understood as she spoke rapidly in her dialect, she had absolutely no understanding of the formalities of the prep that had to be taken and, more worryingly, the seriousness of her illness. She had two kids she had to care for, and she came alone because her husband was a daily wage worker who could not miss work especially since she was missing work that day too. She complained to me about the high prices of prep, all the days she had missed getting tests done and scheduling and rescheduling appointments in a government hospital, her appetite loss due to nausea and how she couldn’t perform her labor-intensive work as efficiently. After she limped out of her session, I thought of the sheer population of people like her in India.

Ever since that episode, I started thinking beyond my illness and what I could do to help the numberless amount of people in the same boat as the young woman. To start helping, the first step is to get a clear picture of how many people are impacted by IBD, which is frustratingly not available nor acknowledged anywhere in India. I am grateful, therefore, that I found CCYAN as an international platform for advocacy. Advocacy would hopefully enable data collection somewhere down the line. However, sometimes the mountain looks too big to climb; at this moment, we are right at the bottom and there are many things to do. Sometimes I think of all the people suffering from IBD in India, and how many struggles go undiscovered due to health illiteracy, digital gaps, doctor unavailability, and expensive medication, etc. Now more than ever, as cases of autoimmune disease rise across the world, there needs to be a prominent force of advocacy for IBD in India, so that datasets can be recorded and informed policies can be formed. The innumerable people who struggle already for a living should not be further hindered in their struggle for support, information or resources in this regard.

Why Me? Why Advocacy?

By Rachael Whittemore

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Reading the inspiring stories written by my co-fellows and having conversations about what it means to for each of us to be IBD advocates for young people prompted me to consider the different paths that led us to our roles in advocacy. Each of us have been through times of uncertainty, emotional and physical pain, bowel preps, needle sticks, treatments and more to hopefully get us to remission and the promise of life similar to what we had before we were diagnosed. We have different interests, different educational backgrounds, come from different cultures…maybe we’re even from different countries or different areas of the same country. I know my diagnosis story and IBD journey is different from theirs, and that’s ok, but above all else, we share a bond of navigating life as young people with chronic illness.

By this point, you might be wondering - why advocacy? Before I can answer that question, I have another admission: as much as I felt that I was strong and capable and felt like I took everything in stride, I was angry at the world and at my body when I received my diagnosis (I’m sure many of you can relate!). Even though I have an immediate family member with ulcerative colitis, it felt like everything I knew about the disease went out the window once my diagnosis became a permanent part of my medical record. I took care of myself, was always active, ate healthfully, and yet I still ended up with IBD. I felt like my body had broken up with me. Feelings of shame, exhaustion, and physical disconnection came to color those first few months of living with ulcerative colitis, as I realized I would have to figure out how to navigate something that seemed entirely outside of my control.

I won’t sugar coat things – it really did take a while for me to feel like I had a grasp on what my body was experiencing, and the various things I needed to process that, both emotionally and physically. But in time, with the support of family and close friends (and meds and diet changes), I allowed myself to process my diagnosis and my own lived experience, and as a result, I slowly found ways to get my symptoms under control. Still, one question lingered: what to do next? As much as I was frustrated, I thought about how it’s hard to talk about IBD, often viewed as a “bathroom disease,” with others.  It seemed like it would never be ok for me to openly discuss IBD and I found myself struggling to figure out how to approach the various aspects of my life that were inevitably impacted by it - from social situations to work requirements. At that time, I was working in a medical office to get experience before going to Physician Assistant (PA) school. To me, there was little clarity among the general public about what IBD was, and a lack of resources for those affected. I wanted to find some way to make a difference, even if only at a small level. This is how IBD and patient advocacy suddenly took on a whole new meaning for me.

“Take a deep breath. You can take that next step…”

I did some Google searching and got involved with the Carolina’s Crohn’s and Colitis Foundation (CCF) and got to know others with IBD. I worked on our local planning committee, attended our Take Steps walk to raise awareness and research funding and, while there, noticed how many young people were walking there as patients. My overlapping time working with CCF and learning how to manage my ulcerative colitis shaped my passion for patient advocacy and education. As a future medical provider (graduation coming up in December!), being a patient advocate was especially important to me since I’d spent extra time in my own patient shoes. This has continued as I became involved with CCYAN and as I started my final clinical rotations for PA school this year.

It may seem like my path to IBD advocacy was clearer cut since I’m in the medical field. While I believe my occupation certainly gives me additional perspective, it was really the weight and frustration I experienced as a patient diagnosed with ulcerative colitis that inspired me to take something negative and use it to positively impact others. For some of you, it might take some time to come to terms with your diagnosis or even recover from being diagnosed in the first place. You might have to recoup from surgery, get used to your infusion schedule, or use more courage than you ever anticipated to get past the ongoing medical visits and unpleasant exams we go through as part of our treatment process.

At the end of the day, even if you already feel ready and able to “do something,” give yourself time to reach a healthy place - physically and mentally. From there, think about your hobbies, passions, and the resources you wish you’d had when you were learning to navigate your own IBD journey. Who knows, you might just find your own path to advocacy. Keep in mind, the word “advocacy” itself might seem intimidating, but there’s no need to ascribe undue weight to it. There are so many things, both large and small, that can have an enormous impact on others. It doesn’t matter if it’s starting an IBD group at your school or a blog about your experience. Remember, the internet can be a beautiful thing and there are many ways to share your story and have it heard and supported by people who can both empathize with and learn from your experiences, even if they’re thousands of miles away.

Take a deep breath. You can take that next step – whether it’s learning how to share some of the uncomfortable parts of your story with your friends or beginning to forge your own path as an IBD advocate. Like many of our fellows have said before, this disease is part of you, but it doesn’t have to define you. Even something as small as sharing the #IBDvisible infographic during Crohn’s and Colitis Awareness Week in December can be a great first step to give others insight into your journey and create a space for dialogue where there was none before. I’ve only lived with ulcerative colitis for four years, but in that time I’ve made peace with my “body breakup,” and I’ve learned to be thankful for all of the amazing things I’m still able to do with this body as someone who is so much more than a diagnosis. And, as more time has passed, I’ve gone from the perspective of “why me?” to “why not? Why not make advocacy a part of my IBD journey?” I hope you’ll find that, in time, you can, too.

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Advocating for Your Illness in the Workplace

A word with health advocate, Samantha Reid

The CCYAN fellows recently had a chat with IBD blogger and health advocate, Samantha Reid, to discuss her take on managing IBD in the workplace.

CCYAN Fellows Leah Clark, Erin Ard, and CCYAN founder,
Sneha Dave, video-chatting with Samantha Reid

In February of 2010, Reid received a surprise that she never anticipated for during her birthday celebration. Three days after she turned 18, she was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease and began her adult life with questions, concerns, and ultimately, an ambition to help others with her disease.

Reid has had her fair share of experiences navigating her Crohn’s disease both in college and work. Majoring in english in college and working as a communications director at her previous job, Reid gained a solid foundation in writing, communication, and outreach. Now, her job allows her to focus on health and advocacy in the professional environment. Currently a digital director for the nonprofit organization, Patients for Affordable Drugs, she strives to change policy to lower the price of prescription drugs. Patients for Affordable Drugs is a patient organization, and Reid actually started there as a patient, so her peers understood her illness and created a safe environment for her to work in. Reid understands, however, how fortunate she is to be working in a flexible environment that meets her accommodations.

“I realize the fact that I’m even able to disclose my disability to my boss and coworkers is a privilege, and not everyone has that ability.”

Reid went on to encourage those with IBD to “play it by ear” and do what one feels comfortable with when discussing their health with their boss and coworkers. Disclosure can not only be an important step in establishing a safe work environment, but it can also be used as a learning opportunity for your peers. “It allows me to be more open and it allows my supervisors to be more open as well; it creates a space for dialogue,'“ Reid explains.

Along with being the digital director, Reid also has a successful blog, Sicker Than Your Average, that she frequently shares experiences with IBD on. She explains how her presence on social media has helped her with IBD advocacy with her work. “For all of my adult working life, most of my coworkers have known about my illness by default. Whether they know because they follow me on social media and see my advocacy work or they know because I’ve had to postpone a meeting because I was sick, most of them know.” Reid expressed how important communication upfront can be when tackling IBD at work. Giving your boss and coworkers a heads-up when sensing a flare or preparing for many doctors appointments can not only give you a sense of ease with planning, but also can inform your peers about the severity on an issue. With invisible illnesses, it can be hard to truly express how important your health is when others can’t see your pain.

“When it comes to asking for accommodations, communication is key. Any workplace that would be retaliatory about me needing accommodations is NOT somewhere I would want to work.”

Sometimes IBD can feel as though it is getting in the way of performing your best at work.
It’s important to remember to do what feels comfortable to you and prioritize your health.

Communication is not only good for planning for the future, but it is good for setting up workplace accommodations. Accommodations are there to alleviate any hardships put in place because of your illness. These can include having your office desk closer to a bathroom or having options to work from home. “In my current position, I have an agreement with my boss that I can work from home every Friday. Because of my Crohn’s, I struggle with extreme fatigue, so even having one day a week where I don’t have to get dressed up and commute saves so much in terms of my energy levels,” Reid explains. She said it makes an enormous difference to her, and she feels valued at a workplace that can accommodate to her needs.

One topic that Reid discussed when advocating for yourself in the workplace is the drive to, in a sense, redeem yourself to your coworkers when you are feeling healthy. It’s understandable to feel pressure at work to perform well, especially when you feel as though you are slacking because of your health. Missing work because of appointments, hospitalizations, and just sick days in general can cause one to feel inadequate in their job performance.

“For me, when I am feeling well, I probably overcompensate at work to prove myself. No one asks that of me, but I know it’s important to gain that goodwill while I can so that when I fall into a flare, people are more understanding.”

It’s important to realize that it is okay to take time for yourself to get better. For many IBD patients, health is a number one priority, and people will be understanding. Showing your boss and your coworkers, when you are healthy, that you can do your job right and well is completely fine.

With all the advice Samantha Reid gave the CCYAN Fellows, it’s clear that she is a remarkable IBD advocate and presence in the community. Her constant dedication to IBD awareness is shown through her work and her attitude towards life. Her insight on what to do and what not to do when it comes to advocating for your illness is the workplace comes from years of experience. Making efforts to communicate effectively with your boss and peers, setting up boundaries and accommodations to meet your health needs, and putting your health first when necessary are all great ways to help those with IBD navigate their work with ease. We at CCYAN hope those in need can use this advice and pursue their career goals without feeling held back by their diseases.

The CCYAN Fellows would once again like to thank Samantha Reid for taking the time to discuss this topic, and they look forward to seeing more of what she does in the future with health advocacy.

Samantha reid

Samantha Reid is an exceptional health advocate and role model in the IBD community. Her insight on advocating for yourself in the workplace not only those with IBD great advice, but also sheds light to important issues on workplace accommodations for all. For more information on Samantha Reid and places to connect with her, check out her social media and other platforms

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