No Menthol Sunday

By Crystal Good | No Menthol Sunday 2025

I started smoking to be a bad girl. Young.

I had troubles in my youth—things I didn’t have the language for then. Smoking felt like control. It felt like rebellion. I thought it would turn heads, spark questions—make people ask, Why is she smoking? But nobody asked. And so, smoking just became part of me.

It became my break from the world—a moment of peace away from kids, work, and stress. Out on the porch, there was always someone else—another smoker, another story. Smoking permitted megave me permission to pause.

Over time, it also gave me company in my grief.

I shared cigarettes with my father before I lost him. He smoked. So did his wife. My brother. Some of my most familiar memories are wrapped in the smell of cigarette smoke. I found myself smoking with ghosts.

And if I’m being real, I was a closet smoker. I didn’t want to be seen smoking, but I couldn’t stop. I was hoping that by No Menthol Sunday, I could write that I was smoke-free.

So far… so good.

When I was a young model in New York, I used to think I looked grown buying cigarettes from the corner bodega. Newport was the go-to—bright green box, icy cool hit. I wanted to be one of those cigarette girls: smooth, effortless, beautiful. You know the ones—in the ads.

That look had been sold to us for years.

The ads made it seem like smoking menthols was stylish. Like smoking meant you had it together. But what we were being sold was addiction, wrapped in culture, beauty, and Black cool.

No Menthol Sunday is a national call to action led by The Center for Black Health & Equity—held every third Sunday in May—to raise awareness about the deadly impact of menthol cigarettes on Black communities. It’s not just about quitting smoking; it’s about exposing how the tobacco industry has targeted us for decades, how menthol makes it easier to start and harder to stop, and how we deserve better.

For me, it wasn’t just a campaign. It was a mirror.

It made me ask: Am I really ready to practice what I preach?

It made me take inventory: Ten bucks a pack. Breath mints. Air fresheners. Lighters. Excuses. It was costing me more than money. It was costing me.

So I tried hypnosis—not patches, not gum—something deeper. And guess what? It worked.

After a few sessions, I came to understand smoking wasn’t just a habit. It was a placeholder. It filled the space where relief had beenused to be. I had to grieve all over again—this time, for my old friend: Cigarette.

Now, I’m proud to say: I’m a non-smoker. A permanent one. That was my hypnosis mantra—and I’m holding onto it.

That’s why I believe in No Menthol Sunday—it gave me the push I didn’t know I needed. And it’s why I’m urging others to pay attention. Especially here in places like West Virginia, where public health campaigns often skip over us. If someone invested in our healing like the tobacco industry has invested in our harm, they’d have lifelong allies.

The statistics are staggering:

• 85% of Black smokers prefer menthol cigarettes.
  
• Menthol makes it easier to start—and harder to quit.
  
• Smoking remains the #1 cause of preventable death in Black communities.
  

So if you’re thinking about quitting, you’re not alone. You can start today. Call 1-800-QUIT-NOW. Or ask me about hypnosis. Ask your ancestors for strength. Ask your future self for mercy.

I’m putting myself on the front street here because I believe that’s how we clear the way, with honesty and breath.