I was born and raised in the heart of Eastern North Carolina, in Bertie County, a place where the river bends slow, the fields stretch wide, and the spirit of the people is unshakable. This is the land that raised me, where resilience is not just a value, it’s a lifeline. And in that rich red clay, God planted the seeds of my power, my pride, my resilience, my joy, and my legacy.
I am the daughter of a 100% service-connected disabled veteran, a man whose sacrifices for this country were written not just in medals and commendations, but in the quiet courage it took to keep living and loving in spite of the scars he carried. From him, I learned that real strength isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s in the stillness of enduring. Sometimes it’s in the way you stand tall even when the weight on your shoulders feels unbearable. His resilience became my inheritance.
Growing up in a rural, poor community meant we had limited access to mental health resources. Mental health was something whispered about if it was spoken of at all. I witnessed family members who needed help for depression, anxiety, or the effects of disability, but who avoided support because of their deep religious convictions or fear of judgment. I saw the toll that silence and stigma can take, and for years I carried my own unspoken battles.
In 2016, my life shifted when I was diagnosed with PTSD. For a long time, I tried to push through on my own. But it took one of my best friends, someone who loved me enough to see through my “I’m fine,” to refer me to a therapist an hour away.
She offered Telehealth sessions, and that changed everything. For the first time, I had a safe space to untangle my pain without shame.
That therapist didn’t just help me heal she helped me reclaim my joy, my confidence, and my purpose.
Her impact lit a fire in me. I realized that the very gap I had struggled through – the lack of accessible, stigma-free mental health care – was a gap I could help fill for others. That’s when I made the decision to go back to school. Today, I’m pursuing my PhD in Counselor Education and Research at East Carolina University, with a concentration in Military and Civilian Trauma Studies.
My research and my calling are deeply personal. I want to bridge the distance between need and access, and help break the chains of stigma that keep too many especially in rural communities from seeking the care they deserve.
In Bertie County, a diva is more than a woman with style – she’s a woman with story. We are the daughters of women who could stretch one pot of collard greens to feed a whole neighborhood. We are the nieces of aunts who taught us to walk into a room like we owned it and the cousins who can turn a backyard into a dance floor. Our elegance is not just in our clothes; it’s in the way we survive, the way we lift others, and the way we keep showing up.
Our community is our crown. It’s the church mothers whose prayers wrap around us like warm quilts, the neighbors who bring food when you’re grieving, the uncles who remind you where you come from, and the friends who clap for you even when their own hands are tired.
Being a diva from Bertie County means we carry our ancestors in our stride. We honor the pride of our heritage. We hold on to joy even in the storm because we know joy is a form of resistance. And we understand that legacy is not just what we inherit it’s what we build for those coming behind us.
The smell of fresh rain on red clay, the laughter of cousins under a wide Carolina moon, the sound of gospel music rolling down a country road – these are the threads that stitch together my story. And no matter how far I go, Bertie County is in my bones.
I am that woman. I am that diva. I am the living proof that small towns produce mighty women – women who lead, women who shine, women who turn their trials into testimony. I carry my father’s service, my community’s love, my family’s prayers, and my county’s legacy with me everywhere I go. And I am committed to making sure that no one, in Bertie or beyond, ever feels alone in their fight for healing.
Because when you are a diva from Bertie County, you don’t just walk into the world, you arrive, knowing you carry an entire community’s hope, pride, and brilliance in your every step.
Article and photos provided by Crystal Pugh Waters
