How To Pay Homage To and Honor Henrietta Lacks?

originally published at RH Reality Check


I finished The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks two weeks ago. Yes, I’m about three years late and for good reason! I wasn’t ready to read the book. I knew there would be a lot of discussion about the anti-Black racism, xenephobia, ableism, and misogyny that I wasn’t ready to read about. Many of the folks in my life have shared how good the book was and encouraged me to read it as well. I didn’t have the same expectations of the book being a “good read,” but I also didn’t expect to have the reaction I had to the text.


Making a conscious effort not to read any written critiques or praises for the book, I began reading with a specific goal: How can I, someone who is benefitting from the misuse/abuse of Henrietta Lacks’ body, honor her without reinforcing the same oppressive experiences others have upon her and her family? How do I examine how I’ve benefitted from something heinous that I had nothing to do with but that allows for my existence today? As I read I was immediately questioning some things about the text. First, how was the text so comprehensive when it comes to sharing intimate and private moments Henrietta Lacks experienced when there were not witnesses? This book was said to be nonfiction, but some parts read as fictional to me. Half way through the text I wondered how do I see this form of data collection and methodology? Would I use this book as an example of “feminist ethnography” or “feminist research” and if I did would I support this approach? I think back to the forms of testimonio, oral narratives, that people of Color have shared. And then I remember the ways folks have tried to debunk our words and narratives. From Rigoberta Menchu, to the slave narratives, to youth questioning pop singer Rhianna’s experience with abuse, women of Color are often questioned, especially when we speak about our lives


When I remember my “Feminist Ethnography” class, and how, if I got the chance, would teach it similarly or differently, I considered if this book would be useful. How would I rationalize it being a “feminist” text if the methodology and data collection were so limited and unclear? Could this be a useful text to discuss some of those topics? There are many questions I still have unanswered from that class. Sometimes the questions are more important than the answers.


Then I read this critique An Open Letter to Those Colleges and Universities that have Assigned Rebecca Skloot’s The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks as the “Common” Freshman Reading for the Class of 2016by Rebecca Kumar. I realized that I had the same questions and discomfort as did Skloot. Kumar specifically mentions parts of the text that I too had questions about their authenticity, such as a part of the book that Kumar describes as “voyeuristic.” Is it too fantastic to believe a woman knew her body so well that she knew there was a tumour on her cervix without having to feel for it with her fingers? What does this say about the ways women are expected to understand what is occurring in/to their own body? How does it set up the same situation the Lacks’ discuss of not questioning medical providers because they are doctors and know more? How does this fall into criticising alternative forms of knowing and knowledge, some of which Skloot calls “voodoo” and how Henrietta Lacks’ youngest daughter Deborah (and other family members) discusses Henrietta’s spirit being present?


When it comes to the questionable non-fiction parts of the text I too am troubled as Kumar. Upon sharing Kumar’s letter with folks in my network there were many racially white folks who have read the book and who did not agree with Kumar for different reasons. I had to admit that I was not surprised that many racially white people who praised the text would disagree with what a woman of Color was stating. Her points require us to examine our own ethical philosophies and ways we consume the bodies and narratives of women of Color. When women of Color speak about racism and misogyny and oppression we need to listen and not just focus on debunking their positions and statements because they make us uncomfortable being self-reflexive.


How did Skloot come to decide/know (I can’t tell if it was her choice/decision or if she found this out from someone else) that Henrietta Lacks’ husband had been cheating on her and thus transmitting various sexualy transmitted infections, such as syphilis? From what I read Skloot had limited interactions with David Lacks who was aging and ill. How did she come to this conclusion or did she decide that on her own? I’m not comfortable with a racially white woman deciding that a Black man’s infidelity was the reason for certain illnesses and outcomes especially when she had the opportunity to ask him directly. This goes back to believing what Black men say when they speak.


Also Skloot mentions a recorder she used, but never mentions it early on in meeting with the Lacks family. How does she get long conversations with the Lacks men long before they have consented to being recorded? Does she “sneak” the recorder and record the conversation in her pocket? If so, is that ethical? Is that what the Lacks family agreed to? How is this a misuse of obtaining information from living human subjects? Does she ever obtain consent to using those recordings?


Finally, the discussions of racism and race are odd for me to read. Not because I didn’t expect them, but because Skloot doesn’t discuss this at all in the text from her perspective. Instead she leaves it up to the Black folks in the text to bring up race and racism. This gives me the impression that she is “post-racial” and doesn’t think about how her whiteness may impact this narrative or how she’s normalized her own whiteness. She’s surprised how folks she contacts know she is white because it is only white folks who call asking about Henrietta Lacks and HeLa cells. Why not spend some time discussing how her whiteness was something that gave her access in ways others, even the Black doctors she interviewed, did not have? Why not discuss how her whiteness gave her some protections, even in the spaces she described as being locations many would interpret as “scary” or “undesirable” for a white woman to go alone?


As many folks who have discussed and critiqued the book have mentioned, Skloot includes discussions of herself in the text, some even argue it’s an overwhelming part of the text. Why not go into a first person voice to address some of this? I’d especially like to hear how Skloot came to the decision on her own that a educational fund was necessary to create. Did she even ask the family what they wanted or did she decide what was best for them? (I’m not even going to go into the problems with her receiving immoral amounts of money in honorariums to speak about this text and how she’s been known to be difficult and not want to engage with students when at universities who pay her this amount.)


This book is important, and I don’t question that at all. It gives us reminders that oppression by and among medical professionals exists in this country today and is embedded in the (re)memory of many communities of Color in the US. What I do appreciate from Skloot is she uses the voices of the Lacks family and does not change their vernacular for easier reading or more acceptable text. Some folks may not like this approach, yet I find it important to have readers understand the words and vernacular of those speaking in an authentic voice.


In addition to Kumar’s discussion of first year students and the faculty who teach them using this text, the book has also attracted readers some may not have expected. Now, the text and the narrative have been immortalized in a different way: in the Hip Hop genre by one of my favorite MCs: DOOM. In his latest track, “Winter Blues,” from his album JJ DOOM (he collaborated with Jneiro Jarel hence the JJ in front of the name which is explained at the beginning of the video), references Henrietta Lacks. Here are the video and lyrics, bolded are the ones in reference to Lacks.





Melanin on melanin


Your dude need to recharge off your velvet skin


Make ‘em feel like, like twelve again


Soon as you give the green light I’m delvin’ in (x2)


Learn to balance, it’s real tricky


Like The Incredible Hulk turned back to Bill Bixby


Fuck masturbating, I’d rather wait than


Keep enough of that good stuff for the trading in


Each and every day making cash with Satan


Can’t eat can’t sleep, it’s exasperatin’


Mad like burning off


All he needs is one warm hug to keep from turning off


I’m sure you could use a boost


Left the hooptie parked in hood with the screws loose


Bust the coupé out the driveway, stash house


Scooped you up, hit the highway and mash out


Matte-black like melanin on melanin


Of course the butter soft, black leather trim, set of rims


Let ‘er purr, not a scratch on it


Spin it back to the garage and put a latch on it


I need a handful of melanin


Feelin’ like the lambswool beard on your tender skin


It might give you a shock initially


As we reconnect up the flow, electricity


The phenomenal melanin bio-polymer


Follow with a glass a merlot, I could swallow her


Eat ‘er up like a SnackWell®


We could live forever like Henrietta Lacks cells


Melanin on melanin


Ask me where the hell I been soon as I felt her skin


Holdin’ hands, feet in the sand— grounded


Starin’ in them pretty brown eyes— astounded


I’ll share some solar power


If you let me pound it we could go for hours


And then again in the shower


Left her leg tremblin’— recharged the melanin


Girl you got it


Me too let that show


This is how you know


That’s that glow


Feel it yo


Love that glow


Even so


Feel it yo


I still remain with many questions, especially around how to honor and remember Lacks. What does it mean for me to recognize the privileges I have benefitied from by the misuse of a Black woman’s body? How do I pay homage and give thanks for her and her family while still holding myself accountable for the ways I’ve benefitted. This is something I’ve begun to discuss with my community. As my good friend Aaminah had mentioned when I shared I was working on this piece “You know, like how we talk about white privilege including the benefits that come from the system of slavery, even when white people say ‘but I didn't have slaves! that was so long ago!’ Well, we have to talk in the same way about how we continue to benefit from this thing that we didn't have anything to do with, we didn't do it, we are horrified that it happened, but the fact is we still benefit from it! I don't know how to have that convo with myself much less with anyone else yet. But I know it has to happen.”


I think it’s time for that conversation to begin. Let’s start.

Lessons From Pam Grier: How Can We Do Better?

Cross posted from my RH Reality Check blog

Trigger Warning

My homegirl sent me an email in the early morning called: How Richard Pryor Gave Pam Grier A Cocaine Encrusted Vagina. This was a article about Pam Grier and a small part of her memoir Foxy: My Life In Three Acts which was released this month. The exchange is between Grier and her gynecologist regarding her sexual activity and reproductive health while she was dating Richard Pryor. The conversation has made its way around the Internet and if you have yet to read it I’ve posted it below. If you want to skip reading it again scroll down to after the block quote.

He said, “Pam, I want to tell you about an epidemic that’s prevalent in Beverly Hills right now. It’s a buildup of cocaine residue around the cervix and in the vagina. You have it. Are you doing drugs?”

“No,” I said, astonished.

“Well, it’s really dangerous,” he went on. “Is your partner putting cocaine on his penis to sustain his erection?”

“No,” I said, “not that I know of. It’s not like he has a pile of cocaine next to the bed and he dips his penis in it before we have sex.” I had a nauseating flash of one of Richard’s famous lines: Even my dick has a cocaine jones.

“Are you sure he isn’t doing it in the bathroom before he comes to bed?” the doctor asked.

“That’s a possibility,” I said. “You know, I am dating Richard Pryor.”

“Oh, my God,” he said. “We have a serious problem here. If he’s not putting it on his skin directly, then it’s worse because the coke is in his seminal fluid.”

After any shock, fear, or discomfort there have not been too many writings about how this exchange can be useful for practitioners and for people working with women of Color and/or youth of Color. There’s something, I’m not sure exactly what, or if I will know what it is in a few hours (or days), about the Jezebel writers piece doing research with a physician regarding this story. I do not think it was a bad idea at all; there is just something I can’t pinpoint that leaves me with the impression of attempting to debunk the narrative of a Black woman.

Perhaps it is the use of the terms “The Truth” in the headline, as if Pam was not telling the truth. Perhaps it is Dr. Gurley’s statement (Jezebel’s “Bottom Line”): “It's extremely unlikely that there could be any toxic vagina effect of cocaine” that questions Pam’s recollection of the exchange with her physician which Dr. Gurley states could be “either misremembered recall on the patient's part, or, possibly more likely, a sleazy attempt by a vaguely irresponsible doc to scare someone into making a major life change.” My bottom line: There are ways to question aspects of a narrative without totally debunking the persons lived experiences. I had very clear memories and recollections of the attempts at discrediting Rigoberta Menchú when I read this piece. These are not memories I wish to have triggered to be honest.

In reading this part of Grier’s narrative I immediately thought of a few things: power physicians have over (not often enough with) their patients as Dr. Gurley mentioned, access to resources and education, various impacts of drug and alcohol use during sexual activity, issues of consensual sex, and harm reduction strategies.

Working at a school based health center in East Harlem under a medical director, physician, nurse practitioner, and other ancillary staff I learned very quickly that certain medical staff make final decisions and sometimes they are not exactly what the patient desires. I know this happens often enough, especially with younger patients, patients who may not speak the language of their care provider, patients who are undocumented, or who are differently-abled and thus have someone making decisions for their care. It took me a while to realize and understand that just because someone is a physician does not mean they know everything they need to about a particular form of care. It also does not mean that they are willing or able to provide the care that is required or desired. I remember being in situations where the physician used their power over me (as in their status, the assumption they knew more than me about my body, their wealth, and the list goes on) and I was so scared/intimidated/overwhelmed that when I left I felt totally frustrated.

Some ways activists and physicians have approached this topic is sharing what patients rights include. Yet, do we explain this to youth who we encourage to seek reproductive and sexual health care by themselves? How do we discuss the rights of our younger patients with them and confirm they understand?

At the time of this situation occurring with her physician, Grier was most likely in her late 20s and she had over 10 films she had starred in. I wonder about what resources and education she was exposed to in the early 70s regarding sexual and reproductive health. During the time of her relationship was when women of Color, especially Black and Latinas were being forcibly sterilized in the U.S., and many Nationalist organizations had taken strong anti-abortion and reproductive freedom stances in response to these human rights violations, in addition to the ideology of increasing the number of people of Color would come an increase in political power. Historical context matters, especially when we live in a society where we are quick to judge people’s decisions.

Many of us discuss alcohol and drug use during sexual activity and the connection to consent. However, as someone born in the “Just Say No” era of drug and alcohol use, it is extremely difficult to unlearn all of the misinformation and “scared straight” tactics that were taught to us. I recall being in an adult education class about the U.S. War on Drugs and having to unlearn so much I was told was right regarding how our bodies respond to various forms of narcotics and alcohol. To this day I’m still appalled at how many deaths are connected to alcohol use and consumption over illegal drug use and abuse.

One aspect of this discussion that is important to keep in mind is the access to cocaine by communities of Color in the U.S. at specific times (and some may argue even today). Anybody remember why “crack is wack?” It’s tied to class status and wealth. The first time I really understood and even heard about a person of Color using cocaine was Len Bias. That was in the 80s. I can only imagine how cocaine was seen as a drug used by the wealthy and a part of a hierarchy of drugs that is connected to status. Do we even discuss class and status in our sexuality education with youth? If so, how? If not, why not?

I admit that when I first read the story I thought: “where were the condoms or diaphragms?” then I caught myself and asked, “Who am I to ask such questions?” I then wondered what information or lack of it was provided that Grier believed having a numb mouth while performing oral sex might be a normalized physical response. I don’t doubt that Grier and Pryor both received one another’s consent to engage in particular activities together. I do wonder how this narrative challenges my ideas of consent.

Did anyone think of consent when reading this narrative? Do we have conversations and lesson plans in place that helps youth and adults think about how consent is not always so overt? Often my abstinence conversation with youth focuses on the various forms of sex that people may choose to have with themselves or with partners. I help youth decide how they want to define abstinence for themselves and giving them scenarios, versus telling them what it means. Yet, I realized reading this part of Grier’s memoir I don’t think I have as strong a conversation as I thought I did. How do we help people discuss what boundaries they wish to create, especially among younger populations, with their partners?

In the age of reality shows such as Intervention, do we discuss how consenting to a relationship, to a sexual activity, to a conversation about sexual boundaries and relationships is also a part of consent? For example, how could we begin a conversation about consensual sex with a 20-something finding herself in an intimate sexual relationship with a partner who uses a narcotic (even if not around her but to her knowledge) challenge or affirm the consent she’s given to her partner? Do we always meet our clients and patients where they are at in the moment? Or are we too committed to shaming and judging them into some form of action? Have we considered how shaming is connected to race, class, health, and is political as Dr. Melissa Harris-Lacewell discusses? What do we do if we over-identify with a client or patient?

Enter my ideas on harm reduction. I am in support of harm reduction strategies, yes even among youth who some may define as in “extremely vulnerable” spaces/situations. I realize this is not a very popular position, I worked with a supervisor once who made it very clear to me they did not approve of harm reduction at all, especially for the working class communities of Color we were working with at the time. I’ve found that harm reduction works well with many populations. It has opened up dialogues that I don’t think would have occurred had I shared a stronger judgmental/shaming approach. I also think that harm reduction can be more flexible than we may think. I’ve thought about this for a while now, and wrote a bit about this idea and if harm reduction can be more inclusive than we originally thought or were trained to implement. I wrote: “I choose to respect where people are as I hope others respect where I am at as we move through a situation or seek assistance or community.”

Instead of nurturing the shock, confusion, disgust, debunking of narratives, and ridicule of this testimony, what can we learn from Grier? How can we do better? We need to do better.

Call for Submissions!!! Women of Color & Sexuality

I've partnered with an amazing media maker and radical educator: SuperHussy to help her find, edit, and publish an anthology focusing on women of Color, sex and sexuality! Here's the Call for Submissions:

Alright ya’ll, it’s time to expand the reach of Super Hussy Media. You know there;s the blog, and the film projects in the works, but wait, here it comes…our first call for submissions for our annual publication, The Compendium.

Our first issue, The Talk, focuses on self-identified women of Color and how they learned about S-E-X. Here are the details:

The Talk: Women of Color On Sex is an exploration of how self-identified women across the Diaspora came to learn about sex and what it meant to have a sexual relationship. Did your mom, aunty or tia sit you down? Were your homegirls or hermanas responsible for giving you the blow by blow? Was Cinemax After Dark, Youtube or a telenovela your sex ed instructor?

Super Hussy Media seeks fresh and daring writers who can coax the reader into an intimate understanding of not only how they learned about sex, but how that knowledge impacted their sexual exploration. We want submissions that are funny, sad, enraging, and transformational.

The Talk is ultimately about our testimonies regarding how we were taught or chose to learn about our sexuality. How we are continuing to learn, lessons we wish we could share with other women of Color, introspective activities of reflection. This is all about us.

Submission Requirements

• Deadline: July 1, 2010

• No more than 2 previously unpublished short stories per submission

• Simultaneous submissions okay, but notify if your work is accepted elsewhere

• 4,000 words or less

• Double spaced

• Poetry and non-English submissions accepted as long as they are accompanied by an English translation

All contributors will receive a copy of the anthology.

Submissions

All submissions must be sent electronically using .doc or .pdf to submissions@superhussy.com.

Title of submission should be placed in the subject line. Please include your name, email address, mailing address, phone number, and short bio with your submission.

Superhussy Media publishes work that celebrates girls and women of color everywhere!

We look forward to reading your submissions.