What does self-care look like in the eyes of those who are overlooked and underappreciated?

Reporting live from her New York City apartment, Tamela Gordon took to social media to do something she hasn’t done in a protracted time: Gordon ate a single ear of corn. Without her story, the act might sound insignificant. But for Gordon, the opportunity to eat the warm treat was an integral step in her journey to healing and well-being.

“After years of dental problems and no insurance, in 2019 I was diagnosed with severe periodontal disease that required complete extractions and then dentures,” she says. “The process took almost a year, during which I had to relearn how to speak and chew.”

In addition to her dental health issues, Gordon’s efforts to guard her mental health have also proven complicated. She worked in the restaurant industry for 20 years. During that point, as a method to unwind from her hectic work environment, she developed a deep passion for what she initially thought was self-care.

“I wasn’t really healthy—and I got caught in the fast lane for a while,” she says. “The self-care that I thought was helpful, like getting my nails done and getting weekly massages, was really counterproductive for a fat, black woman.”

To refine her own individual plan, Gordon needed to explore what self-care looked like for the Black community as a complete. And in doing so, she realized she needed to step back from some of the ideas the wellness industry often perpetuates.

A $1.5 trillion industry, wellness culture is thought for promoting unhealthy diets that may result in eating disorders, creating low self-esteem amongst those who associate wellness solely with vanity. The wellness industry can be growing, making optimal health seem attainable for everybody.

“If you need something, just do it. And if you can’t do it, you’re just not trying hard enough,” Gordon says, is the message she’s received. She’s also found a heightened sense of shame in wellness communities that individuals carry with them because they’ll’t afford proper look after themselves and their families.

“My own dental health and mental health… well, I couldn’t do it myself. I didn’t have the money or the resources,” she says.

Gordon began speaking out about these disparities, first on social media and then by writing what’s now her debut collection of essays. The more she wrote, the more she met others who experienced the same obstacles.

“There are so many [shame]especially in terms of dental care,” she says. “I admit that initially I wanted to get my teeth fixed just to blend in. While I didn’t feel a commitment to vanity, I also understood the importance of having a healthy mouth.”

She adds: “I was living day to day and stealing food, but when I found out I had to have all my teeth removed, I had to do it at all costs. Dental health is a form of self-care that is as important as paying rent or putting food on the table. I had no money and was embarrassed to ask, but maybe my village could help.”

Family and friends raised 1000’s of dollars to make sure Gordon received the care he needed. The experience of getting comfortable speaking clearly and eating with a prosthesis was exhausting and had an impact on the work that became

In one of the essays in Gummy B*tch, Gordon explores the connection between dental health and sexual health. “I don’t want to be groundless when it comes to discussions about intimacy, but at the same time, it’s also part of wellness. I want anyone who is like me to know what foods to eat with dentures and be able to assess what intimacy looks like,” she says.

The story of Gordon’s recovery and that of people like her is the subject of stories in the book, which are intended to supply encouragement to other black women and men.

“While I don’t necessarily feel 100 percent comfortable talking about my sex life, my dental care, or talking about my childhood, we do it because it’s part of the healing process, and without that healing, we don’t heal,” she says, citing the significance of one essay, “Drowning on Dry Land,” in which she explores the ways collective trauma affects personal well-being.

In this book, Gordon, through each his own testimonies and the experiences of others, demonstrates the power of storytelling and highlights the importance of information sharing in terms of how we present ourselves in the community.

“We can’t get better if we’re not honest, and all the models of well-being that we’ve had up until now have been about ignoring the reasons why we don’t feel well. But ultimately, well-being is about meeting all of our needs and desires. It shouldn’t be controversial or too unconventional,” Gordon says.

“Black women, especially, need to be at the forefront of these conversations about self-care. For the person who’s missing a molar, for the woman who’s been celibate for eight years, for the person who has a chronic or terminal illness, I see you,” Gordon adds. “Healthcare sometimes gets a little chaotic and intense, but it’s necessary for our own personal well-being and for the community.”