Before she walked into the office, Adrienne Moore already knew what doctors were going to tell her: her cancer had returned. Thirteen years after beating ovarian cancer, she now had endometrial cancer. What Moore was not prepared to hear that it was at an advanced stage 3, and treatment would be difficult. This was shocking because for nine months, Moore had insisted that doctors take her list of health concerns seriously. These included having a menstrual cycle that vacillated between absent, spotty, and so heavy she needed a rolled-up towel to help soak up blood, as well as pelvic pain. She also attended every appointment with copies of her medical file, and she let all her physicians know that she was a cancer survivor. Moore was told—repeatedly—by doctors that she had no reason to worry. "I'd ask, 'Should I be concerned?' And they'd say, 'No, you're a Black woman, you get fibroids. You're a Black woman, you might have thickening of the uterus,' says the 50-year-old respiratory therapist.
Some could hear Moore's story and chalk it up to one woman's unfortunate experience. But the truth is that what happened to her mirrors reality for many Black women in the United States. At times she was uninsured—meaning diagnostic tests were not ordered by physicians because she could not afford to pay for them out of pocket. And many of her doctors were white men who, she says, "spoke at, not to" her.










































