Grit and determination, meet Dr. Latanja Divens Belle of Steel #17

     Imagine you are a brilliant little Black girl and your Mama is wanting you to go to an upper echelon private school. Mostly white. Latanja’s Mama was at the ironing board making sure her uniform looked just right. No wrinkles allowed. She checked Latanja’s braids one more time, no nappy strays allowed. Latanja quickly donned the pinafore before getting hearing her mother call out “Hurry up now, ya hear? Early is on time, Latanja. On time is late.” Latanja was just finishing up polishing her shoes. She quickly finished and her Mama loaded her up into the old jalopy. Dr. Latanja Divens, PhD, DNP, APRN, FNP-BC remembered that day as if was yesterday.  When she got to school, she was placed in the third level group of students for the grade. The low group. Her mother was not satisfied with that. She went marching to the principle to complain. “This little girl could read by age three.  She’s way smarter than that. You put her there because of the color of her skin.” After looking at the child’s previous academic record, reluctantly, the principal moved her to group two. Not only did Latanja excel over all the other students in that group, she aced all of her work, including some from level one. 

     In college, Latanja continued to demonstrate her academic prowess, earning her Bachelor of Science in Biology from Xavier University of Louisiana in 1996 and a second Bachelor’s of Science in Nursing from Our Lady of Holy Cross College in 2001. But she wasn’t done with school yet. She loved to learn and she was good at it. She nursed patients in the areas of family practice, nephrology, and gastroenterology. She even worked with the Veterans Administration caring for Vietnam and Afghanistan war veterans. In 2007, she completed her Master of Science in Nursing. But she wasn’t done, she wanted more.  She completed her Doctor of Nursing Practice in 2012 from Loyola University New Orleans working as a Family Nurse Practitioner. Her passion lay in caring for underserved patients with chronic diseases. 

     But she just couldn’t turn her brain off. There was so much more to learn. More to do. Back to school. She wanted to be involved in research. In 2018 she completed her second doctorate, PhD in Nursing Education from William Carey University. She maintained her board certification by the American Nurses Credentialing Center as a Primary Care Family Nurse Practitioner throughout her career, continuing to practice actively.  Dr. Divens served as an Assistant Professor of Clinical Nursing in both the undergraduate and graduate nursing programs at Louisiana State University Health Sciences Center, New Orleans. She was the program coordinator for the Adult-Gerontology Primary Care Nurse Practitioner program.  She was sought out for her grant writing abilities, having single handedly writing for over 1.5 million in federal grant funding. 

     However, that is not what made Dr. Latanja Divens a Belle of Steel.  Several years ago she noticed that she was experiencing numbness and tingling in her fingers and toes. Sometimes she had trouble with balance. Being a healthcare provider, she sought medical journals and expert consultations from physicians. Numerous health care providers could simply not figure it out. But Latanja did. She finally found a neurologist to perform the right test. Being summoned to his office, she already knew it was not going to be good news. He told her she had a progressive form of multiple sclerosis (MS). For an instant, her heart sank. But her mind went into over drive. Knowing what she knew as a medical professional, she felt a pit in her stomach and visually projected being in a bed and on a ventilator. It made her nauseous and want to vomit. Not her. Not now. And in a Black woman? MS is a disease of white women.

     Driving herself home, she prepared to tell her husband.  “What I am going to do? I teach for a major university? I care for patients?” He simply said, “What you always do, Latanja. Pick yourself up, dust off after you cry a bit. And conquer it day by day. Use that head of yours.” Her husband was right. But she summoned her strength from somewhere else too. Her faith. Even though she was mad at God at the moment for this train-wreck of a diagnosis, she went to church to talk to her pastor. He basically repeated what her husband had told her. Dr. Latanja Given was not a person to give up. Ever. God had other plans for her.

     Since that time, Latanja has struggled, but she wouldn’t give up. Bit by bit her body faught her. With twitching and cramps, pain that would disable anyone. It even affected the one thing she loved to do, speak. Speak to teach. Speak to make people laugh. Speak to motivate. Her voice was craggy but she carried on. Nothing would stop her from doing what she loved, teaching.

     “I’ve been through some very dark days,” she said from behind her desk. Struggling she reached over to get her hand over the special large mouse to direct her computer.  She was mentoring a fellow faculty to publish. “I know I look awkward. But, I won’t let it get me. There’s got to be a purpose in all this. A reason.” Until recently, Dr. Divens delivered moving motivational speeches at churches and public gatherings about MS in African Americans. She revealed that many times MS is mis-diagnosed for years in the African American population, as was in her case. At the conclusion of one of her presentations, a young Black female approached her. She revealed how thankful she was to have met her and heard her story, as she was recently diagnosed. It was another face, facing the same devastating diagnosis. They continue to be friends to this day.

     Dr. Divens was often found wheeling around the halls of LSU Health Sciences Center, New Orleans. Continuing to mentor not only students, but fellow faculty. Everyone from students, to friends, to faculty considered her family. She chaired the curriculum committee and served as a programmatic and grant reviewer. Her curriculum vitae remains chocker-block full of her awards, accomplishments, publications and presentations from around the country. But all of that is not what made Dr. Divens a Belle of Steel. It was her kind heart, her soaring spirit, her infectious laugh, her dry wit. But most of all, it was her undeniable grit. On any given day, she never knew what her body was going to throw at her. Would she seize? Would she end up on the floor? Would she hurt? Would her shakes make others uncomfortable? But ever determined, she would never give in. Not as long as her heart and brain continued to tick.

     Early in morning on February 14th, Valentines Day, 2022, at age 47, Latanja’s heart played that final beat. She died in her sleep. That weekend, she had met with her doctoral student, finished up an article, planned for the week, and went to church with her husband. Little did she know, on that day, God had other plans for her. He was calling her home. The halls at LSU on that Monday seemed empty. Students and faculty bereft. A spirit, larger than life was suddenly taken from them. Many were stunned and not sure what to say or do. During a session to debrief their profound loss, students and faculty poured out their grief and memories of her. They talked about her humor, her faith, her passion for teaching. How they would never forget how she individually touched so many. For her life’s work, her profound resilience, AgeView Press is proud, humbled, and honored to name Dr. Latanja Divens Belle of Steel # 17.

“Oh, honey!” Meet Belle of Steel #16 June Simmons Phillips

June Phillips never met a stranger in her life.  Her attribute as the penultimate people person made her one of the most successful women’s wardrobe mavens in Fort Worth, Texas. If one needed the perfect outfit, you called upon June. June loved to work.  Her career in women’s wear sales spanned over sixty years in some of Fort Worth’s most iconic boutiques.  The patrons of Wally Williams, Edison’s, Margo’s La Mode, HR Lowes, and Leon’s knew that no matter what the event, June would have them impeccably dressed.

june phillipsbestAs for her own style, avante –garde fits the bill.  June always made her own unique fashion statement with beautifully cut suits, designer dresses, and matching scarves, hats, shoes and jewelry. Her signature was her hats. In her later years, she didn’t like carrying a purse, afraid she would leave it somewhere.  Her ample bosom served as storage for her lipstick, cell phone, keys and credit card, which she would never leave without.

Growing up as an only child of two adoring parents, June considered her father a driving force in her life. She believed he taught her the tenants of life without gender stereotype. Once, he tied boxing gloves on her to show her how to take and throw a powerful punch.  Matching her up with a boy her own age, he taught her to spar.  The young boy reached back and threw June a hard punch to her face.  It hurt and stung, making her cry.  “That’s okay,” her Dad said.  “That’s how it feels. Now let him have it.”  June wiped tears away from her face and delivered a blow hard enough to knock the young boy off his feet.  She got a thumbs up from her “Pops.”

It was this steely toughness and plucky grit that gave June the strength and courage to take on any challenge handed to her.  Behind her perfect makeup, ruby red lipstick and lovely skin, she was no showy flower, she was one of the most brutally honest and remarkable women her friends had ever seen.   June was a consummate story teller.  They always began with an intense flash of consternation in her eyes. When relating life lessons from her parents, her eyes filled with tears. She described her childhood as “14 carat gold.”  As for time with family? She was heard to frequently say “Hold your memories close, for they are golden and never to return.”

June loved to sing. Loudly. She was admitted to Julliard School of Music.  But having met a dashing young man, her plans changed after her father’s warning. “You can leave home, study with the best, and have a songster’s career, or you can choose to have a family. Not both.”  June chose family and never looked back. She sang at every party and gathering.  Remarkabley in Pre-Vatican II times, she was ensconced as the only divorced and Protestant member of St. Peter’s Catholic Church choir.

June sized you up with a knowing eye, engaged you with a bright smile, and drew you in with a mesmerizing gaze. As a customer, she’d have you instantly pegged.  “Hi, honey, what’s your name?” was her classic opening line.  Managing to engage and delight, she almost always  closed a sale.  June educated herself about retail, her merchandise and her customers. With a heart for people and lovely things, she was truly interested in making someone feel like a million bucks.  She would bring out two or three choices of outfits, carefully selected for her customer which they simply “couldn’t live without!” She would tell you what looked right and definitely identify what didn’t. She’d match your personality with your zodiac sign.

One particular June story which gives way to her scrappyness had to do with the proceeds from sales. June worked on commissions and worked hard for them. After one particularly successful sale, during which she sold two ladies thousands of dollars of merchandise, another clerk claimed they were her clients. “Oh, no they’re not, sister. I emptied those ladies pockets with my skills. Those were my loyal customers. I know them like I know the back of my hand.  Which soon is gonna make its way to your  face if you don’t give me back my money.”  This led to an actual rolling-on-the-floor, hair-pulling, nail-scratching brawl at Wally Williams. At one point, her foe ripped off June’s hair clip. Her perfectly coiffed curls fell to her shoulders. Although the other woman was quite larger in stature, June got in her licks. Once the manager broke it up, June straightened her skirt, put her hair back up in the clip and threatened, “Honey, if you ever try that again, you better run for your life!” Wherein, the clerk quit and was never to return.

Cultivating deep friendships, June endeared herself to her companions. She doted over her second husband, Allan. Thirteen years her senior, she knew from the moment their eyes met in an elevator, that he was the love of her life.  They lived in a petite, two bedroom home just a few blocks from June’s parents, to whom she was still very close.  When Allan went to collect June’s things, he was surprised there were not more clothes and shoes.  “Oh, honey.  It’s not all in the bedroom. There’s a whole ‘nuther mess of it up in the attic.”  June’s father wryly pointed to the ceiling.  Alan had no idea now he would store box after box of hats, shoes, and racks of clothes.  He suggested that maybe she should give some of it away to charity.  But June didn’t see obstacles.  Only solutions.  “Honey, why say no, when yes means so much.”  With a sheepish grin, Allan gave in.  But before loading them up, he consulted with his brother on how to turn the spare bedroom into a closet, suspending multiple racks from the beams in the ceiling.

In 1975, while working at Margo’s La Mode, June hand-picked her son’s wife. A lovely, young eighteen-year-old blond with peaches and cream skin walked into the store shopping for an Easter dress.  When June first spotted her, she strode over and remarked, “Honey, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.  I think you would be perfect for my only son.” Sure enough, a few months after dating, Lisa Ferguson became Raul Pena’s wife.  Having been married for over forty years, they now have two adult children.  June adored matchmaking and love stories.  Intent on finding her grandson a mate, one day she rang him up. “Nathan, I’ve found the perfect girl for you. She is beautiful with brown, sparkling eyes!”  Skeptical, Nathan asked “Okay. Where did you meet her?” June’s answer? “Oh, honey. I haven’t met her yet. She’s the underarm deodorant model in my magazine!”

Despite her strength and independence, June never learned to drive. Allan took her to and from work.  June also didn’t like to cook. So every night, they would eat out deliciously, many times meeting up with life-long friends.  Her quick wit and salty tongue would have everyone at the table in stitches.  The staff and owners of her favorite spots knew and loved Miss June and Mister Allan by name.  Often describing them as the grandparents they never knew. Their booth was regularly reserved and waiting.  In fact, The Café, a longtime Fort Worth eatery on Montgomery Street served as the breakfast version of “Cheers” -where everyone knew their name.  A poem that June wrote about the establishment is posted on the cash register.  When June became ill, The Café had their customary breakfast delivered to the hospital. june phillips

June loved Halloween and many of her friends and colleagues recall her festive Halloween parties. Their quaint home was annually festooned with pumpkins and colorful goblins. June’s costumes and witch’s hats were notorious. How ironic that in 2016, on her most favorite of holidays, June was given her death sentence.  Experiencing some vertigo and recent falls, June received a horrific diagnosis. She had the worst of all brain cancers, a glioblastoma, Stage IV.  At age 79, rosy-cheeked and in perfect health, she was incredulous that she was told she had only months to live. To her shocked family and friends, she remarked “Nobody lives forever, honey! I’m not afraid to die. But I’m gonna give this thing a helluva fight.”

She chatted up folks until the day she died. While having an early morning blood draw, she queried her phlebotomist, “Honey, when’s your birthday?  What’s your sign?” holding out her arm.  “I think I’m a Scorpio,” the tech replied.  “Oh yeah? Me too, honey. That means we’re resourceful, brave, passionate, and stubborn as all get out! But a true friend.”  The lab tech smiled. Yep, that was June.

On one of her last days, she held the hand of another Belle of Steel, Edmee Baird.  ‘Honey, let’s say part of the rosary.”  June was a Catholic for that day. They began the Glory Be. Edmee had tears in her eyes, “But what am I going to do without my best friend?” June’s voice was stoic. “Don’t cry for me gal. You’ve got more life to live.  If this whole thing is terminal, I’ve had a good one.  I have a wonderful son.  I hand-picked his wife.  I was given a second chance at love and have a fabulous husband.  I’ve lived life to the fullest every day.  If this is it, it’s all been grand.”  They completed a decade of the rosary.  June died the next day.  AgeView Press is proud to celebrate the indominatable spirit of Belle of Steel  #16, June Phillips. She forever left her mark and cast her spell of love on her corner of the world.