My grandfather was a proud man. The kind of man who didn’t complain, didn’t ask for help, and certainly didn’t go to the doctor. When he got really sick, he didn’t tell anyone. Not his children nor his grandchildren. By the time we found out he had cancer, there was nothing left to do but say goodbye. He had known for a while, yet he chose privacy over fighting, and in doing so, he left us without the chance to even try to save him.

I think about him often when I think about my own health. In our family and many Black families, that kind of stoicism he displayed is practically inherited. You push through and pray over it. You don’t talk about it at the dinner table, and you definitely don’t hand your body over to a system that hasn’t exactly proven it has your best interests at heart.

But I’ve been realizing that silence didn’t protect him, and it won’t protect me, either.

The Inheritance Nobody Talks About

There’s a particular kind of cultural programming that comes with growing up in a stereotypical Black household. Health conversations, if they happened at all, were usually reactive. Someone was always already sick, already in the ER, already too far gone for prevention to matter. But given everything Black Americans have experienced at the hands of the medical establishment, it isn’t irrational to have some suspicions.

The numbers back it up. According to a Pew Research Center report, 55% of Black Americans say they have had negative experiences with doctors, including having to speak up to receive proper care and feeling like their pain wasn’t taken seriously. A national poll found that only 6 in 10 Black adults trust doctors to do what is right most of the time, compared to 8 in 10 white people. Seven in 10 Black Americans say the healthcare system treats people unfairly based on race “very often” or “somewhat often.” Research consistently shows that this medical mistrust in the Black community is directly tied to lower use of preventive care across the board.

We aren’t avoiding the doctor because we’re lazy or careless. The system has given us real, documented reasons not to trust it. From the Tuskegee syphilis study to the dismissal of Serena Williams’s medical concerns after childbirth, Black bodies have been treated as afterthoughts at best, and as experiments at worst.

Unfortunately, that same distrust, left unchecked, is also costing us our lives. According to a study, Black Americans have a 25% higher cancer death rate than their white counterparts. Our life expectancies are shorter, and so many of us, like my grandfather, are choosing silence when we desperately need information.

I decided I didn’t want that to be my story or my family’s story going forward.

Taking the First Step

Naturally, I thought getting serious about my health would look like expensive specialists, long waits, condescending doctors who half-listen and send you home with a pamphlet. Along with my inherited distrust in the American medical system, all of this just felt overwhelming and, quite frankly, extremely exhausting. What I found instead was a starting point that actually made sense.

I came across Superpower, a health platform built around the idea that preventive care shouldn’t cost tens of thousands of dollars or require a concierge clinic zip code. While a standard annual physical typically measures maybe 10 to 15 biomarkers, Superpower tests over 100 in a single blood draw, like hormones, thyroid, metabolism, inflammation, kidney function, cardiovascular health, vitamin and mineral levels, and more. The results come back in a clear, plain-language dashboard, and you’re paired with a care team that actually explains what everything means and what to do about it. At $199 a year, a tool like this felt like it was actually built for someone like me who needs a handle on their health without all the fuss.

The process was relatively easy. I ordered the panel online and was sent to my local lab to have the blood drawn. Just a day later, I received a notification that my results were in.

What My Body Was Actually Trying to Tell Me

The results came back and parts of them stung a little. Not because they were catastrophic, but because they were specific. Specific results mean actionable results, so there’s no more avoiding the truth about what my body needs.

My overall health score came back at 78 out of 100. My biological age (the age my body is actually functioning at) came in at 37.1, roughly 6.6 years above my chronological age. The results explained that my cells are aging about 19% faster than the calendar says they should be, and that alone took a minute to sit with.

My care team helped me understand, however, that the drivers weren’t vague or mysterious. They were identifiable and they were fixable.

Fortunately, my kidney health, thyroid, sex hormones, and energy all scored A’s. My HDL cholesterol came back at 65 and my triglycerides at 79; both optimal, which my clinician noted was a genuinely strong metabolic signal.

Then there were the three areas that needed attention

Blood Sugar

My HbA1c came back at 5.8%, which sits in the pre-diabetic range. With diabetes running in my family history, this one hit the hardest. My fasting glucose at 94 looked normal on paper, but together the picture became clearer. This, my care team explained, is the single biggest lever for lowering my biological age.

Vitamin D

Severely depleted. At 15.5 ng/mL, I was sitting well below the low end of the normal range, which starts at 32. Vitamin D affects immune function, inflammation, mood, bone health, and DNA repair. These are all things that directly feed into how quickly the body ages, and I had no idea.

Iron

My ferritin was at 24 ng/mL, my hemoglobin at 11.6, and my red blood cells were smaller and paler than they should be. A clear picture of iron deficiency. Suddenly, the fatigue I’d been brushing off and calling “just life” had a name and a reason. As a pescatarian(ish) with heavy periods, my body was losing iron faster than my diet alone could replenish it. I had been pushing through exhaustion for years, assuming it was stress or busyness. It was biology.

The Roadmap to Better Health

What I walked away with wasn’t a scary list of problems. It was a protocol built specifically around my body, my lifestyle, and my goals. I was given four supplements to add to my day-to-day and three new habits to implement. I was also instructed retest in 8 to 12 weeks to track real progress.

I’m taking Vitamin D+K2 to address that deficiency, an iron supplement to rebuild my ferritin levels, and berberine and a cinnamon extract to support healthier blood sugar. I’m supporting iron absorption with a daily probiotic at breakfast.

On the lifestyle side, the changes are doable enough that I’m actually doing them. I’ve been instructed to eat fatty fish three times a week for both vitamin D and iron, pairing plant-based iron sources with vitamin C to boost absorption, and taking a short walk after my biggest meal each day. Starting meals with protein and vegetables before starches is one of the most effective blood sugar interventions available without medication.

I don’t feel like I’m guessing about my health. I feel like I have a map.

One Small Step for Me, One Giant Step for Black Medical Normalcy

I’m not here to convince anyone they need to use the exact same tool I used. I’m here to emphasize the importance, and ease, in making sure your health is on track.

The information was always available. What was missing was a little bit of courage to ask the questions I’d been avoiding and the willingness to investigate after receiving the answers.

My grandfather didn’t get that chance, or maybe he chose not to take it. I’m choosing differently. Not just for myself, but for the people behind me who are watching. Because we deserve to know what’s happening in our bodies before it’s too late to do something about it.

We talk so much about breaking generational cycles when it comes to money, trauma, relationships. We don’t talk nearly enough about breaking the cycle of not knowing. Of treating our bodies like mysteries that aren’t worth solving until it’s too late.

That ends with me. If this resonates with you, maybe it ends with you, too.