Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor

Here is what angie taught me…

Four years ago I dared. Just that, dared. A woman with no business near cancer, near laboratories, near the long cold words of point of care diagnostics and yet, we dreamed.

Her name was Angie. She was my sister-in law, the way sisters are made not only by blood but by love and by the years and by the way a woman laughs in your kitchen.

Then in 2021, she left. The way the ones we love sometimes leave too soon, too certain, taking something with them we did not know we could not live without. Then we made a vow the way women have always made vows, quietly, in the body, where no one sees but God.

We said: we will learn. We said: we will change. We said: not one more.

and we did.

we changed the plan and changed it and changed it again until the dream wore its right face —

that every woman, every body, every she who walks this earth uncertain of what grows inside her will know, will have the tools to know, will not have to wait for someone to come and save her, not when she save herself.

Today we came close. Came close to saving her. Close is holy. Close is divine. Close is enough and we are grateful. We are grateful to Damaris and other women like Angie, who allow us to come so close, like the morning is grateful for the light, without knowing how to say it, without needing to. Angie, we carry you. we always will and today, we came so close…