In America, over 43.8 million people were diagnosed with one or more mental illness(es). Of that 43.8 million, 6.8 million black Americans are suffering from an illness that affects the brain. With this large population affected you would think that a conversation about mental illnesses like depression, bipolar disorder or PTSD would be normal in black households. This is not completely true, mostly due to mental health issues being a taboo discussion. We are a strong race because we are an oppressed race. With us being strong, any weakness is hidden by the façade of the use of faith.
Why is it hard for black people to come out about their struggles with mental health?
Faith is constantly intertwined in the black community. Most can remember being raised in the church, wearing their Sunday best and Sunday dinners after the whole day affair. This can be traced to slave times where the faith was the only escape from the horrors our ancestors were going through. Yet this still, so to speak, plagues our community today in which it becomes a negative tradition because it silences those who are suffering in their mind.
The faith argument boils down to blaming the illness on lack of faith in Jesus or God or both. Faith could be an addition to the equation of trying to treat us, yet it should not be the only solution. By retaining faith as the end all be all for recovery, keeps those suffering, silent.
Silence on personal suffering is also affected by generational differences and guilt. Younger generations of black communities are compared to those before us, just like those before us were compared to those before them, it’s an inevitable cycle. We are told that there are other things that could be worse, or we are reminded about the struggles in a world that was against us because of our race. What is becoming apparent is that now, we are still in a world against us and personal struggles change from person to person.
We are not weak due to our mental illness. We are not childish due to our mental illness. Yet, a lot of black people feel this way because it's constantly drilled into our heads.
Why do we find ourselves confused when a black member of our community has a breakdown? Why are we in awe when someone in our community seeks therapy and medication as a way to get better? And when they don’t, why are we shocked when they commit suicide?
We are invalidated when we open up to those that are supposed to support us. Then we are called selfish when we act out of the ordinary in relation to our mental illness.
Lately, we have been seeing an abundance of black icons becoming more open about their mental health struggles, helping us to know we are not alone. But what about those whose community speaks louder than icons experiences? What happens to them?
If you cannot get help for your mental illness, or you have thoughts about suicide please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.
