There are questions medicine cannot answer alone.
What our body carries. The stories we inherit. The unseen. Womanhood. Africa. Consciousness. Healing. Identity. And the beautiful work of becoming ourselves.
I was trained at Johns Hopkins to look at the body and name what is wrong with it.
I was raised by a Senegalese poet and diplomat to look at a person and ask what they are carrying within their identity, their lineage, and their soul.
Everything I have made since—the surgeries and the novels, the clinic and the journeys, the songs and the essays—lives in the distance between those two sentences and in the sacred work of closing it.
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I believe that humanity is at a turning point where it is asking to return to its whole, non-fragmented self. This self does not require us to become something new; it simply requires us to remember what we have forgotten.
The work is medicine. The work is also memory, lineage, language, and the parts of us that no lab can measure.
You are welcome to all of it. And in the end, I hope to have convinced you that the most powerful medicine available to us is the medicine of remembering who we are.
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