ONE TOUGH COOKIE

A cookie might crumble, but its crumbs never go to waste. At least, that’s what Joia Clark Crowe believes, anyway. “You can use those crumbles for so much other stuff, just like God uses broken people,” she declares confidently. Hers is a story of beauty from brokenness, conquest from crumbling. But, Crowe confesses, her story is also one that almost went untold. “It was a nagging spirit that just kept saying, ‘Tell it,’” she reveals. And tell it she did. A bold announcement on her Facebook profile — “I have a story that’ll make you believe in God” — set off a series of posts she would later call Story Hour, chronicling all the details of the latest chapter of her life: her diagnosis with stage 3 triple positive breast cancer.

ARTICLE BY STARLA GATSON
PHOTOGRAPHY BY KELLY MOORE CLARK

The former English teacher and current assistant principal’s creative writing skills and love of all things dramatic helped her lead her online friends and family down “the road to eight-ten,” a date whose significance was only known by Crowe and members of her family. “The road to eight-ten was that I had to have a double mastectomy on August 10th,” she explains. “I was very open, very transparent, and gave all terms to what the process was before the double mastectomy. I told it as a story because my goal was to let young women, especially African-American women, know this happens to us, and it’s before the age of 40.”

The sense of disbelief many young adults have in the face of dangerous disease is one Crowe knew well, as she was convinced the bruises that had suddenly appeared on her body were nothing more than a side effect of her Crohn’s disease medication. When her husband suggested they could be a sign of cancer, she shrugged off his concerns, but after discovering a knot in her breast and at the advice of her mother-in-law, Crowe decided it was time to see a doctor. “This was the first mammogram that I ever had, cause at the time, I was 33 years old,” she recalls. “I went, and I got a mammogram and an ultrasound. I thought I was done, and they said, ‘We need you to come back for a biopsy.’ So, we did the biopsy, and that was that.”

The mother of three was sure the results would come back clear. After all, things like cancer didn’t happen to women who were so young and had already endured so much. But, while on a family vacation in Florida, she caught a glimpse of a dimple on the side of her breast in the hotel mirror and immediately knew her family’s concerns were well-founded. “When I looked at it, I said, ‘Joia Ann, you have cancer.’”

Crowe’s diagnosis came on June 13, 2018. “We were all sitting in the office, and the doctor came in with the grimmest look you could see, and I knew it,” she recalls. Despite already being sure she had the disease, the confirmation from her doctor rocked Crowe. “Tears were just streaming down my face, and the only thing I could say was ‘I want my daddy.’ They put him on the phone, he told me, ‘Hey, hey, it’s okay. I want you to do exactly what the doctors tell you to do. I want you to trust in God, and you’re going to be alright.’ And that made me feel better. And after that, I wiped my face and I left. I’m not going to say I was okay, but you couldn’t tell I just got that diagnosis walking out.”

A relatively private person, Crowe was set on putting her head down and fighting the disease in silence. But, while in North Carolina for her eldest son’s baseball tournament, she decided to share her story both through her Story Hour posts and in person, first disclosing the details to her son’s coach, then to the other players’ parents. “The reason I had to tell them all of this was because I had to leave him in North Carolina to have my mastectomy; I couldn’t stay. I watched all of his games except the championship game.” Though disappointed her son would not have either parent present at the final game of the tournament, Crowe knew he was in good hands and her family was supported; before going into surgery, she received a photo of the team captioned “J-Strong,” showing every boy on the team wearing bright pink tape. She was ready to undergo the first and hopefully only step of her treatment.

Unfortunately for Crowe, however, the mastectomy was just the beginning. “I found out that it was in my lymph nodes, and I was going to have to do chemotherapy and radiation. I went in one way, but I came out different.” Despite the unexpected bump in the road, the faith-filled optimist continued posting Story Hour updates and photos to her Facebook page, determined to show her friends and family that there was a silver lining to be found even in this dark sky. “I wanted to show people there was a bright side to cancer,” she explains. “I did go through stuff that was bad, but I never posted it.”

In the weeks that followed, chemotherapy became a solace for Crowe, and her chemo chair quickly became her favorite place. “It was quiet; it was just me and God,” she says. “It was time for me to get closer to God and understand what my purpose is on this earth. It had its downfalls, but for the most part, I made it out fine; I was okay. I know everybody’s not as fortunate, but I’m grateful that I was okay through that.” The journey was not without hardship, however, as radiation took a heavy toll on Crowe, burning her out and burning her body, and a total hysterectomy left her with hot flashes and frustration, but before long, her body began to heal. “Everything was coming full circle. The seasons changed, and whatever the season did, that’s what my body did. It was springtime when stuff started blooming again. My hair started growing back, nails started strengthening, the color started fading, I wasn’t as pale anymore. Everything was changing with the seasons.”

Now, Crowe has reached the end of her breast cancer journey, but her story continues to be told. She believes in the power of a testimony, stating that “your story might be the blueprint to help somebody else build their story.” She speaks at churches and shares on social media with the hopes of reaching women under 40 whether they are battling cancer or not. She urges women to perform regular and thorough breast self-examinations, to know their bodies well enough to know when something is not right, and to contact their insurance companies about a cancer policy just in case of an unexpected diagnosis. “I think it’s our job as women, young women, to stick together,” she says. “It could be me today, it could be you tomorrow. It could be your sister, your cousin, anybody.” Crowe has also begun making care packages for current cancer patients called Cookie’s Glam Kits. Each box contains practical items, like a comfortable outfit to wear to chemotherapy and a mask to shield from COVID-19, and more fun items including bundles of hair to be made into a wig, false eyelashes, and an eyebrow pencil. “Some days, you don’t want to look like a cancer patient; some days, you want to look like a glam queen,” she explains. “I have a lot of stuff planned, but COVID stopped a lot of it. I’m just here to see another woman through.”

After all she has endured, what advice does the joyful storyteller have to share? Two words: don’t fold. “That’s the best thing I can tell women: go through it, and don’t fold. Do not give up.” She also recommends each patient trust themselves and medical professionals, adding, “Consult with your close family, consult with God, and trust your doctor. And trust your gut. You know what’s best for you, and you know what’s good for you. There’s something that drives you, there’s something you believe in; trust that and go forward.” Lastly, Crowe urges women battling the disease to allow themselves to be taken care of by a community. “I had support, I had people to help me, and once I shared my story, I had people that didn’t even know me help me,” she says.

Cancer may be tough, but Crowe is a cookie much tougher. She may have crumbled, but she believes beauty continues to be revealed in the brokenness. “How can you tell anybody else about anything if you haven’t been broken first? Most people listen to people who’ve dealt with the same thing or dealt with something — cancer gave me credibility, I guess. If my story helps to see a person through, I’ll tell it over and over again until somebody is ministered to, blessed by it, or felt okay about themselves because of my story.”