From the August 2019 magazine.

People like me

A delegate shares her story and stresses the importance of reaching out to the African-American alcoholic

I was not sober at my first AA meeting and I was not impressed. I saw a bunch of old white guys sitting around a table smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. It wasn’t very inviting. In fact, I don’t remember anyone reaching out to say hello to me. I’m not sure if I had been drinking at my second meeting, but I did drink after it.

I went to those meetings to “support a friend,” not because of my drinking. Which, by the way, was causing me problems. But I wasn’t as bad as my friend. Or so I thought. A few years later—homeless, unemployed and blessed with the gift of desperation—I found myself back in the rooms of AA. This time I was there for me. 

-- V.F.

Bend, Oregon

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