Marilyn Moore, a chef and food justice advocate, faced a life-altering stroke in her 40s, a moment that forced her to reexamine her health and the systemic barriers that make wellness difficult for Black women. Through her journey, she speaks candidly about the unseen impact of stress, the challenges of prioritizing self-care, and the realities of health disparities that many overlook.
In this conversation, Moore shares her personal experiences, emphasizing why awareness, access, and advocacy are important for Black women navigating their health.
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BHM: You’ve spoken about stress impacting Black women’s health in ways people don’t always see. How did your own experience reflect this?
Marilyn Moore: I’ve had a stroke while I was [seemingly] healthy. I think the most challenging part was the first few months of my healing because I was still in denial that it happened. I wanted to see the proof. I could not believe that happened to my body when I was putting in that much effort for myself to be well. But the levels of emotional stress, the pressures of being a contractor, and the challenges of owning a small Black woman-owned business, all of that adds up.
Those of us who are well and are showing up vulnerable and transparent, yes, we are susceptible to harm. For our communities, there is so much that goes into trying to be well. I have to take the train downtown to go to Trader Joe’s or take a cab home because I cannot afford to eat healthily in my neighborhood. So, when people say, ‘How could you have a stroke?’—maybe because I was on a train with four kids just to go food shopping, all because I don’t have that access in my neighborhood. Stress shows up in places we don’t look for it.
When you are a Black woman, stress dares to impact your organs, the places where people can’t actually see it. The fibroids, the reproductive attacks, infertility, PCOS, all the things that are blamed on us, but not on stress.
Prior to my stroke, I had a seven-centimeter cyst growing on one of my ovaries, to the point where I lost one of my ovaries. So, yes, I had a stroke in December 2021. I was jogging on the morning of the stroke with my baby. When my hand went numb, I was making a smoothie.
But in the prior months, so much happened, including the time that a landlord changed their mind after I invested so much money into a space. On top of that, I’m a single mom who homeschools my children, educates other people’s children, and works weekends as a private chef. My nervous system and endocrine systems would not accept it.
BHM: What challenges have you faced while advocating for food justice, and how did those pressures affect your health?
Marilyn Moore: I looked at it as a person with hands-on experience with food, especially on a merchant level, and understood why certain restaurants will not have fresh fish because of the process. What it takes to become part of an active restaurant. Overall, it’s just the process of how to feed our communities better. As a local mom-and-pop in Staten Island or Queens, I took that to these political offices and said, “Hey, along with being a constituent, I am a merchant, I am a parent, and I am a human of this community.”
There’s inequity on all sides. It was intense, and that gave me more passion when it came to school and education because I wanted kids to be able to understand what’s going on in their community and why they don’t have access to food. But these efforts came with extreme stress. The frustration of fighting against these systems while caring for my own health all built up.
BHM: What do you wish more people understood about stroke risks in Black women?
Marilyn Moore: There is so much misinformation about why Black women experience health crises like strokes. People assume it’s just about diet and exercise, but that’s not the full picture. It’s stress—systemic pressures, years of carrying too much without relief, emotional exhaustion that starts small but accumulates until your body simply cannot take it anymore.
We are expected to show up, work harder, be excellent, and hold everything together, whether it’s motherhood, career, activism, or just surviving. And that constant pressure is dangerous.
No one talks enough about how stress impacts the endocrine, nervous, and reproductive systems. It’s not just about being physically healthy; it’s about the things that are invisible until they force your body to shut down. We need better education, more resources, and deeper conversations about how to prevent strokes, not just react to them once they happen.
BHM: You talk about vulnerability being an important part of healing. How did that help in your recovery?
Marilyn Moore: All of that is why I wrote the book The Vulne-Rebel, A Guide to Honoring Your Gut. I wrote it because I felt some of the signs of my illness, and I was so focused on pushing it down because I had a responsibility for the community, for my children, but I had a responsibility to myself first. Sometimes in motherhood, ownership, activism, and in Black empowerment, you lose it. And you need the people in your life to remind you, you need to remind yourself, and you need to surround yourself with outside sources that are going to check in because your health matters. And I have done that in the moment I healed.
BHM: What advice would you give to Black women who feel overwhelmed by stress but don’t recognize the health risks?
Marilyn Moore: There is so much stress in places that we are not looking for it. Prioritizing your health isn’t selfish; it’s survival. If you don’t listen to your body, the consequences can be irreversible. Sometimes, the healthiest choice is saying no to things that drain you, finding spaces where you can be vulnerable, and allowing yourself to rest without guilt. If I had listened sooner, maybe I wouldn’t have had a stroke.
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