Minority Communities and the Marrow Registry

national-cancer-institute-9k4Fglw6eFQ-unsplash.jpg

By Dan Hyun

Like many others, my family has fantasized about pressing a reset button on 2020. Yet our struggle has extended beyond COVID-19 and its terrible impacts. 

In mid-December, my younger brother, Joe, was suddenly diagnosed with B-Cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia and has been undergoing chemotherapy treatment for the greater part of this year. Then, a few weeks after Joe’s diagnosis, my nine-year-old daughter, Tabitha, was rushed to the emergency room. Her liver was failing. 

In January and February, our despair turned to hope as we witnessed an apparent, sudden miraculous healing in her body. 

Then, in April, Tabby fell ill again. We were shocked to discover that she also has leukemia. In a month, we’ve gone from apparent health to a two-year treatment plan, including chemotherapy. She’s been a trooper through it all, but the whole family is struggling with general grief over a life that has completely changed. Tabby won't be able to participate in typical kid activities as she used to. Travel and vacations will never be the same. She’ll lose her hair. She may become hardened in a way a kid shouldn't have to be. 

Still, I had hope that I could help Joe. His best chances for long-term recovery are through a stem cell transplant. I was overjoyed to find that I was a perfect 10/10 match to be his donor. The transplant was scheduled for April 1, yet COVID-19 and its risks to the immunocompromised postponed it. 

However, with the discovery of Tabby’s leukemia, Joe's oncologist determined it would be best to find another stem cell donor. Joe and Tabby’s kind of leukemia is not hereditary, so all signs point to this as an unlikely coincidence. Yet even with the slightest chance of genetic mutation, their doctors think it wise to seek another donor. Perhaps it was a mercy to discover all this before the transplant. But it was also heartbreaking to have our high hopes be crushed. 

Cancer is hard in any situation, but COVID-19 has caused this fight to be even more daunting. A home nurse caring for Joe tested positive for the coronavirus. As a result, Joe had to be tested multiple times to be able to continue his chemo. 

We are advocates of safe distancing practices yet also disheartened at how these measures harm the welfare of the weakest among us. Joe and others like him are in desperate need of a large bone marrow donor drive movement in churches and other settings. Unfortunately, current quarantine protocols make this impossible. 

Even without a global pandemic, those of Asian descent have a significantly lower chance of finding a donor match than white individuals. Asian Americans like Joe will realistically match with someone else of Asian descent. According to advocacy group A3M, the current odds of finding a match for someone who is Asian or Pacific Islander is 41 percent. Compare this to whites, who have a 77 percent chance of finding a match in the national registry; First Nations people have a 57 percent chance; and Hispanics or Latinos have a 46 percent chance of finding a match. African Americans have the lowest odds of matching, at only 23 percent.

A3M Graphic_Dan Hyun.png

Why is there such underrepresentation of Asian Americans in the marrow registry? From my own observations, I think the broader Asian community is inclined to take the step of getting tested if there is a chance to benefit someone they know personally. If they do not know someone in immediate need, it may not feel imperative to help the larger community. 

My prayer is that this could be a practical means to put our faith into action. What better way to exhibit the reality that Christians have new life because Jesus sacrificed his own life? Through the act of testing, you can trust that your small sacrifice could mean the gift of life for someone like Joe and his family, as seen in this short video

This is not just an issue for my family or Asian Americans, but a matter of justice for all underrepresented communities. To increase the chances of finding a match for Joe and other people of color fighting leukemia, we need to increase the number of people from various ethnic backgrounds in the database.

Fortunately, even during this time of COVID-19, you can join the marrow registry and possibly save a life without leaving your home. Here’s how to do it:

  1. Sign up online and request a free kit. Be the Match Registry provides everything you need, including postage.  

  2. Once you receive the kit, simply swab your cheeks, place it in the packaging they provide, and send it back.  

  3. If you get matched, you will be contacted about possibly becoming a donor. 

Though this journey has stretched our family beyond imagination, we have never experienced so deeply the truth of Galatians 6:2:  “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ” (NIV). My hopeful prayer is that many who don’t even know us would also join in helping to carry our and others’ burdens in this time. 

Photo by National Cancer Institute on Unsplash


Dan+Hyun+Image_May2020.jpg

Dan Hyun is the founding pastor of The Village Church in Baltimore, which was started with dreams of making God famous through a multicultural expression of the Kingdom. Dan also serves with the SEND Network in developing urban church planters. Dan writes for Lifeway Pastors and is a requested speaker on issues of ministry, mission, justice, and leadership. He launched the Ethnos Conference to lead the Church in conversations about multicultural mission and reconciliation. Dan and his wife, Judie, enjoy city life with their two daughters. 

The AACC is volunteer-driven and 100% donor-supported.
Help us continue the work of empowering voices. Give today.