My Vaccine Paranoia Didn’t Begin With My Grandmother’s Death
You really wanna know why POC are scared of a shot for an unrestrained virus?
My favorite person in the entire world died of cancer. Not only did it shatter me irreparably, it didn’t make sense.
Although my grandmother was the epitome of a Black Southerner (besides walking miles to receive an education as a child and baking cakes and pies with sorcery as an adult, her first name was Virginia), she was one of the healthiest people I’d ever known. Her breakfast was normally light — toast or a small bagel with tea sometimes, but mostly coffee (she saved heavier breakfast items like grits and biscuits for the weekend). In the summertime, her diet consisted primarily of colorful plate-sized salads accentuated by the tomatoes she grew in her backyard. She never ate late at night. She was supposed to live until 100. Instead, cancer sent her home in her mideighties.
My family is convinced that the American government is at the root of my grandmother’s cancer.
Although Grandma was one of the most humble and genuine beings to have walked this Earth, she was quietly vain. She loved to look good. She made sure that her hats were as regal as her deaconess title, and her waistline belied her age. Unfortunately, as a younger…
