I never thought being Black would make cancer treatment more difficult

The company that facilitates these sessions provides makeup and cosmetics – we get to trial and then keep them. 

It immediately became clear that all my products would be for white skin tones, unsuitable for a woman like me of Black Caribbean and white heritage.

After I pointed out the problem, the co-ordinator was very apologetic, saying she thought they had some that may be suitable and ran off downstairs to find them and came back with the nearest tones she could find.

But they should have checked my background in advance – had I arrived to makeup that suited me, my experience would have been very different.

My cancer journey began in October 2018, when I started to experience breast pain. I initially thought nothing of it, but it continued, and by December there appeared to be a small lump.

At this time, I spoke to a couple of people who, like me, thought that breast cancer didn’t present with pain and, as I had much to deal with in my personal life, I put it off. 

It was only at Christmas when I spoke to my mum and she urged me to get it checked that I decided to get it looked at.

My GP said I would be fast tracked for a scan, but not to be too alarmed. 

Aggressive treatment, including chemotherapy and a mastectomy, would be required to give me the best outcome and survival rate.

At this time, my life was already in turmoil as my daughter was in hospital. 

My main thought was: ‘I’ve got to get through this to be there for her.’

Little did I know at the time how long and challenging the road ahead would be, navigating the physical toll the medicine takes as well as the mental impact. 

Following my mastectomy, the treatment plan meant I went long periods without sleep, had a lack of appetite and I suffered from a mouth full of ulcers.

Often I didn’t recognise the woman in the mirror. I felt very lonely and wondered if I could ever love my body again.

Sadly, alongside that distressing makeup session, I faced other issues as a result of my racial background. 

During an appointment for a prosthetic breast, there wasn’t a single one in a non-white skin tone.

Cancer is such an individual journey but the issues facing Black and other ethnic minorities must be discussed publicly if we are to improve outcomes

I also had issues when having a wig fitting at the hospital. There were zero wigs for people of Caribbean or African heritage and the selection was very limited. 

I was informed that another hospital, Southampton, kept a much bigger selection, but I felt too exhausted. In the end, my family came together to help me buy a real hair wig privately.

My active treatment finally finished in September 2019, and shortly after I found Black Women Rising and Leanne Pero on Instagram. 

The group was set up by Leanne after her own battle with the disease. She realised that often cancer services are not inclusive enough and do not provide adequately tailored support tailored to ethnic minorities. 

The mission at Black Women Rising is to educate, inspire and bring to women with experience of cancer from the Black community to connect and share their stories, without fear or shame.

At meetings, I noticed they were talking openly about issues I had faced – and I finally felt seen and heard.

I found my voice at group sessions, discussing problems I’d encountered but hadn’t raised at the time.  

At the cancer centre I attend, I was the only woman of colour there, and at present still am.  

So when I was asked to be involved by Leanne in a new play, Unseen Unheard: The Untold Breast Cancer Stories of Black Women in the UK, it was a no brainer. 

I shared my story with the script writer, producer and co-directors, as well as reviewing the script as it took shape. 

Cancer is such an individual journey but the issues facing Black and other ethnic minorities must be discussed publicly if we are to improve outcomes. 

If I had seen this play before or during my treatment I wouldn’t have felt so alone – and, crucially, if those treating me had seen it they may have sought to address the issues.

Women from Black Caribbean and African backgrounds are 28% more likely to die of Triple Negative Breast Cancer. 

The disparity in care and treatment between white patients and patients of colour may be difficult subjects but ones that must be confronted if real changes are to be made and more lives saved.