For centuries, Black women have confronted countless healthcare challenges stemming from systemic racism, gender bias and socioeconomic disparities. This intersection of race and gender for Black women is more than the sum of being black or being a woman, and is instead the synergy of these two minority groups. These medical challenges manifest themselves in many ways such as significantly shorter average life spans, higher rates of maternal mortality, disproportionate rates of chronic diseases, lack of representation in medical research, and inattentive research. These are obstacles that all Black women, like myself, may face at some point in our lives and often have to live in fear of.
To be Black in America, is to experience chronic illnesses such as asthma, diabetes, Alzhemeir’s and Covid-19, at some of the highest rates in the world. Regardless of wealth or status, Black people are more likely to die from these diseases and as a result, their life expectancy is lower than their white, male counterparts. Since the early 2000s, the higher mortality rate among Black Americans resulted in 1.6 million more deaths compared to white Americans. For decades society has blamed this on genetics, when in reality it is due to racism, specifically the restrictions preventing Black people from living and having access to adequate healthcare. Until the Civil Rights Act of 1964, Black families were prohibited from visiting the White, well-funded hospitals and instead resorted to poor, and limited medical treatment. Although black-led clinics and doctors did their best to make up for the disparities, Black women did not get the amount of support they needed. For generations, Black people were put at medical disadvantages.
The maternal mortality rates of Black women are almost four times higher than those of white women and the highest of any racial group in the United States of America. Not only that, but Black babies are more likely to die in childbirth, and 14.8 percent of them are born prematurely which could possibly lead to health issues later in their lives. Black women are objectively less cared for medically and it starts with the doctors, nurses, and medical profession who refuse to believe them. For example, maternal sepsis, a life-threatening condition in which organ dysfunction is caused by infection due to pregnancy, is the leading cause of maternal mortality in the U.S. It also happens to be twice as common in Black women than white women. Sepsis is difficult to diagnose because, in its early stages, many of its symptoms are similar to regular pregnancy symptoms. However, it develops quickly so it is imperative for it to be caught quickly. Unfortunately, Black women are often not taken seriously when expressing their pain. People of color alone are 29 percent less likely to receive regional anesthesia compared to white patients and women are 11 percent less likely than men. Within this statistic, Black women are unfortunately significantly more impacted by this statistic. This is partially due to a false belief that Black bodies are biologically different from white bodies, with some healthcare providers claiming that black people have thicker skin, stronger bones, or less sensitive nerve endings. It is also due to a lack of proper research of Black bodies, as they are often underrepresented in clinical trials and research studies across various medical specialties. The negligence of Black women originates from post-slavery medical practices of gynecology, where Black women’s bodies were abused and used as a means of improving the economy. Torturous and fatal surgical experiments were performed on Black women without anesthesia, and this continued even after slavery, as hysterectomies were performed on them without their consent. This era may seem far and distant, but these institutions have a direct impact on today’s healthcare systems, and the notions held by healthcare providers.
It is necessary for us to understand how public services continue to uphold America’s historically racist values. Recently, I had a conversation with a close Black, female family friend where she shared that when she needed to go to the hospital or see a doctor, she had to exaggerate her symptoms and pain levels. At first I did not understand why someone would have to go so far as to lie about something like this, and I was starting to wonder if everyone went through something similar. Ultimately, Black women have been forced to accept the notion that unless their situation is dire, they will not receive the necessary treatment. I now have a clearer understanding of the roots of medical care disparities and the issue is far more simple. Black women do not have the same support systems that men, or people of other races might, meaning they have to consider factors that other groups do not even know are relevant to their daily lifestyles.
