Lately, if you stroll on the Roanoke Greenway, you might come across something beautiful: groups of Black men walking together. It’s not just about exercise. These walks have become moments of connection, reflection, and healing. We talk about life. We talk about our health. We talk about what we’re carrying emotionally. And sometimes, if the moment calls for it, we cry.
We’re in a new time. More Black men are starting to take their health seriously, not just their physical health, but their mental and emotional health, too. That’s powerful. For too long, we’ve been told to stay strong, keep quiet, and push through. And for too long, that silence has cost us.
The numbers speak for themselves. Black men in America still face the lowest life expectancy. That’s not just about a lack of access to healthcare. It’s about what we’ve been taught (and not taught) when caring for ourselves. It’s about the foods we eat, the stress we carry, the music we internalize, and the company we keep. All of it shapes us. All of it matters.
This year, I’ve seen more brothers, some I know, and some I don’t – struggling with serious health issues: cancer, diabetes, high blood pressure, and obesity. Add to that stress, anxiety, depression, and unresolved trauma, and the picture gets even heavier.
Some individuals have unfortunately lost their battle with illness after ignoring the signs their bodies were giving them. Many avoid seeing a doctor due to pride and the fear of not being able to afford medical expenses, especially when they feel the responsibility to provide for their families. It becomes an endless cycle that we need to break right now!
But here’s what gives me hope.
I see us changing more and more. Brothers are switching their diets, leaning into plant-based meals, hitting the gym, becoming entrepreneurs, and finding ways to give back to the community. It’s not perfect, but it’s progress.
For many of us, the Greenway has become a sanctuary. A brother recently told me about a walk he took with a friend, nothing planned, just two men talking. At some point, they both started opening up, really opening up. They shared what they were dealing with and what they were afraid of. And eventually, they cried. That kind of vulnerability doesn’t come easily, especially for Black men. But when it happens, it’s healing. It’s necessary.
I’ve been on this wellness journey for nearly 20 years. Back in 2011, when I worked at the co-op, you rarely saw Black folks shopping there. Now, in 2025, that’s changing. I see us at the co-op, Earth Fare, and farmers markets—choosing better food, learning more, and doing better for our families and ourselves.
It’s a beautiful thing to witness. But we still have work to do.
We’ve got to teach our youth the value of wellness early, not just once they’re sick, but while they’re young, so they don’t repeat the same patterns we’ve been trying to break. If we don’t make that shift now, we risk passing the same struggles to the next generation.
There’s no magic solution. But I believe in the power of small steps. I believe in the power of brothers walking, talking, and healing together.
So, if you see us out there on the Greenway, know this: we’re not just walking. We’re building something for ourselves, for each other, and for the future.
