I was only 24 years old when it happened. I was at work—just trying to make it through another busy shift—when I started to feel off. Not in the dramatic, movie-scene way most people picture a heart attack. No clutching chest, no collapse to the floor. Just a wave of nausea, cold sweat, fatigue, and a strange pressure in my back and neck. I brushed it off at first. I was young. I was pregnant. I figured I was just tired, overworked, maybe a little dehydrated. But deep down, something felt… wrong.
I went to the emergency room. I waited. I explained my symptoms. But I didn’t “look like” I was having a heart attack. I was young. I was a woman. I was Black. And for too many healthcare providers, those facts didn’t line up with what they’ve been taught to look for in a cardiac emergency. So they sent me home.
But I was having a heart attack.
Later, it was confirmed. I had survived a heart attack while pregnant—and was initially turned away by the very system meant to protect and treat me.
It was terrifying, humbling, and eye-opening.
What hurt even more was that this wasn’t just about me. I come from a long line of heart issues in my family. High blood pressure, high cholesterol, strokes, and heart disease have taken too many people I love—from my elders to those in my generation. It runs in our blood, but it’s also wrapped up in how we eat, how we work, how we handle stress, and how we’re treated when we seek care.
As an African-American woman, I’ve learned that our symptoms are often minimized, our pain dismissed, and our health outcomes ignored until it’s too late. That’s why I want to speak up. That’s why I want to be a part of the American Heart Association—so that my story can wake people up and maybe even save a life.
I want to show others—especially in the Black community—that heart disease doesn’t care about age. It doesn’t always look like it does in textbooks. And it certainly doesn’t wait for a more “convenient” time to strike.
We need to take our health seriously. We need to speak up, get checked, ask questions, and advocate for ourselves and our loved ones. My goal is to raise awareness, educate others, and help prevent the same thing from happening to someone else who just “doesn’t look like they’re having a heart attack.”
Because I lived through mine—and now, I want to make my survival mean something.