Sometimes it is difficult to truly empathize with a problem until you are faced with it yourself. For most people, this is not because they are insensitive. Rather, it is the fact that the emotions that accompany certain situations are simply too complex to understand unless you’ve experienced them first hand. A few days ago, I was forced to learn this hard truth. What had originally started out as a normal weekend, quickly turned into a lesson about fear and stigmatization that I would never forget.
That morning, I got up late (as usual) to assist my mother and my aunt in cooking; weekend chores in my house always started with a few hours in the kitchen. However, I was in such a rush that I forgot myself and wore shorts and a t-shirt. It was only when I was elbow-deep in dirty dishes that I realized my mistake. I tried to avoid sitting next to my mother, but eventually her sharp eyes landed on my thighs and she exclaimed, “Where are those scars from?”
You see, I suffer from undiagnosed depression and c-PTSD, and an undiagnosed psychotic disorder. Because of these mental health issues, I have been self harming for years. Whenever a bad episode happens, I tell myself that I need help. I spend time looking up the addresses of local psychiatric clinics, plan out how I will tell my parents… and then do nothing. I have spent so long hiding my weaknesses and pretending to be strong that I do not know how to open up and be vulnerable. So when my mother questioned me about the scars, I lied. Like I had been doing for years, I lied and told her that I was alright. I actually began to laugh and explained that I get really itchy at night. My superstitious mother did not buy my ridiculous explanation and chalked it up to the work of evil spirits, so she gathered my whole family to pray over me. It was the most awkward and embarrassing thing that I have ever gone through, but even those feelings were not strong enough to override the overwhelming shame I felt for being “weak” enough to self harm.
The stigmatization of mental illness in the Black-American community is a huge problem that needs to be addressed, especially during this month dedicated to honoring black lives. African-Americans are 20% more likely to experience serious mental health problems, such as ADHD, PTSD, and major depressive disorder, than the general American population (National Alliance on Mental Illness – NAMI). However, many black people are quick to scorn therapy and pass off mental illness as a “white” thing.
This reaction can be traced back to African diaspora history when we were treated as guinea pigs by white physicians and surgeons. Because of the resulting institutionalized racism in the medical field, black communities are wary of modern medicine and are more likely to rely on religion and their own strength. Another barrier to black people seeking help concerning mental health issues is that damaging, yet ever so popular, media trope of the strong, inexhaustible, black woman. However, none of these excuse our laziness in addressing this prevalent problem.
Although we cannot change our history, we can change how we currently treat each other. As black people, we need to allow ourselves and our family members to seek help without being portrayed as embarrassments, weaklings, or traitors. We need to start having intra-community discussions about depression, learning disabilities, PTSD, etc. We need to talk about the fact that suicide is the third leading cause of death in black males ages 15-24, and what we can do to combat that (Bureau of Justice Statistics – BJS). As a community, we need to realize that hiding our problems will not solve them. We need to realize that we are human. We need to normalize mental illness.
I encourage everyone reading this article to learn about the warning signs of mental illness from sources such as the National Alliance on Mental Illness, and to get help for anybody in their life that displays these debilitating symptoms. I wrote this article not just for myself, but for the countless black children and adults still struggling with various mental illnesses, and the black folk who have succumbed to the struggle. May the former find help, and may the latter rest in power. Happy Black History Month.
