Keona Wynne, PhD candidate, Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health

“When I checked the polls, I saw Black women caring for people in the most radical and political way, in a society where care has become a currency, and everyone wants to be indifferent. I say care is powerful. It is powerful to say that something will not fly, and you will not stand for it because that thing crosses the line.”

Keona is a second-year Doctoral student of Population Health Sciences at the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health.

Peach Trees and Earliest Memories

I grew up in Huntsville, Texas, on a small farm, which wasn’t always loving or warm. I had a very difficult time growing up on that farm, but there were still moments where it was filled with a lot of beauty. A memory that I often think about is that of the peach trees on the farm. They were grown by my grandmother, because she always wanted her children to have food to eat. After she died, the peach trees continued to flourish.

Along with this, I grew up in a Southern United Methodist Black church, which gave me much warmth, and a sense of community and connection. My family is very devout, and we were in church almost every day. I loved, and still do, the community and the music. As I grew older, however, I moved away from the traditional understanding of Christianity, but I still have deep spiritual practices, which I have found through yoga, meditation, and ancestral veneration. I try to honor, celebrate, and thank my ancestors for their guidance and wisdom. I stay connected to the spiritual, because I think that it is a very important dimension of wellness.

On Ethics, Morality, and Disparities

Having pursued my undergraduate degree at the illustrious Howard University, I got to travel a lot. And during my travels, I was witnessing all of this death and sadness. The culture, the camaraderie, how much people love and care for each other, is absolutely present, but ultimately these are very beautiful people without resources.

On the other hand, I was also visiting places where there was an abundance of resources, and I would ponder at the juxtaposition of extreme wealth and poverty. It didn’t really matter where I went, I couldn’t escape it. So why didn’t anyone care? I couldn’t understand that. So, I came to Harvard for my Master of Bioethics because I wanted to understand morality. I wanted to understand how we could look at these extreme disparities between people and see all the suffering and be indifferent, and withhold from them the resources that they need, or make them have to deserve it. When I connect this to spirituality, I see many people who didn’t earn or deserve a lot of the grace that they have been given in their life. So, why then, are we leveraging a more extreme tax than any type of deity or spiritual being has leveraged against us? 

The Place of Spirituality in Public Health Discourse

I study Trauma, Violence, and Abuse as my subfield of expertise at the Harvard School of Public Health. My study of this subfield led me to a Fall 2020 class at Harvard Divinity School, entitled “Change, Adversity and Spiritual Resilience.”

Growing up, I experienced much trauma in dealing with the changes that came from growth, so I took that course because I wanted to explore what the process of healing and moving to a place of wellness looked like. After I took the course, I realized that this process actually involves a lot of spirituality. I think this is missing from public health literature because, save for a few public health researchers, we don’t embrace spirituality as a key component of help.

Taking the course opened my eyes to the extent of the spiritual crisis that people are walking through whenever they are undergoing change, whether positive or negative. And sometimes, this does require spiritual counseling and support. I learned that these things aren’t at all at odds with public health or public health practices. If we just collaborated, we could be way more efficient in bringing people to health and well-being, which is what we all want. 

Black Women Saved Democracy

Right after the U.S. Presidential election, I had all this anxiety because everything just felt so uncertain. But looking at the polls it became clear that Black women had overwhelmingly voted for Joe Biden, and it was not because he was a Democrat. They were voting against hate, against harming people, and against everything that isn’t aligned with many spiritual traditions.

It was more about a stand for morality, and the refusal to be a country, or people, that endorses children in cages, the harming of other bodies, or endorses police brutality. It almost seemed like it was a planned collaboration, and we were texting each other saying, “Hey, we’re doing this.” Except, that wasn’t at all what happened. Black women often bear the brunt of caring in our communities, and we aren’t always cared for.

There are historical reasons for that; we have always cared for our own children, children of other races, and the men in our community. That intersection of race and gender meant that the Black woman just became expected to be caring and always loving towards another person. So, when I checked the polls, I saw Black women caring for people in the most radical and political way, in a society where care has become a currency and everyone wants to be indifferent.

I say care is powerful. It is powerful to say that something will not fly, and you will not stand for it because that thing crosses the line. I was so inspired by this, that in 30 minutes, I wrote a spoken word poem entitled “Black Women Saved Democracy.”

I love the arts because of the way they allow a person to form a distinct sense of self. Being Black in America sometimes is about trying to fight all of these incoming messages that you’re bad, or that you’re ugly, a savage, that your hair shouldn’t be this way, or your lips are too big. It’s so pervasive that it’s hard not to internalize. The arts enable us to form our own distinct identity outside of that, and these things have always been a part of Black cultures, which makes them so beautiful. With dance for example, you’re connecting with your past, but also connecting with your present because you’re dancing in community. Dance very rarely happens alone.

Painting Beyond the Horizon

Right now, I am just trying to be very open to what life brings me by exploring my talents and gifts. The most important thing for me is just to be a person of integrity and a compassionate listener. I realize that I won’t always know the answer or get it right. I’ve been finding out that I don’t have all the right words.

As a painter, I know it’s never about the picture I paint; it’s about the fact that I am the painter, and I get to paint. And why not paint a dragon? Why do we have to paint roses all the time and try and have it all figured out? Why not just paint a dragon and see what you learn?

So, my approach to life right now is just to paint a lot of really different canvases, trusting that I can because of my integrity and my ability to always come back to myself and my truth. And more than that, to learn and to be okay with being corrected; to be okay with being wrong. Cancel culture has made us feel like being wrong one time is the end of life. Sure, it might be the end of a life of fame, but you will still have your community. You will still have the people who love you and their admiration. Their respect is what really matters, not the respect of 10,000 faceless people on the internet. Therefore, in answering the question about where I want to go, I say I don’t know if it even matters. As long as I stay true to who I am, where I go will just be where I go.

Interview by Suzannah Omonuk; photos courtesy of Keona Wynne