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The Black Stigma

Mental Illness in African Americans

By Tianna BriannePublished 6 years ago 2 min read
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I was born to two wonderful, loving parents. I am truly grateful for that. I used to make it a point to break every stereotype that was thrown at me. For example, I would style my hair a different way, listen to a different kind of music, make friends that were mostly white, and push myself to talk a certain kind of way. I would get told when I talked to adults, "You're so proper," and "You're not like those others kids." They never truly said it, but I always knew what they meant.

When I was in middle school, I got deeply depressed. I got to the point where I wanted to commit suicide and I wasn't quiet about it around school. Home, it was a different story. Though the signs were there, I never truly said it to my parents. However, during middle school, I would tell the truth when people asked me if I was okay and they never did anything about it. It got to the point where I had to tell someone else, and I told my mom.

Eighth grade, things got better, but by high school I was back into the same slump, except I wasn't going to school. I was homeschooled. I spent my days locked up in my room, writing and reading. I had barely any friends and the friends I had, they had other people who made them happy. I began to realize that I needed to tell someone, but I didn't. Why? The same saying has been repeating in my ear ever since I heard it in middle school.

"Black people don't go to therapy. Suck it up."

Words that were said by my closest friend at the time. Words that stayed with me from sixth grade to now.

Black people don't go to therapy.

Why? Why are we so afraid to say that we need help? It occurred to me that that was true as I looked around my family. We were filled with anxieties and bipolar and depression, yet no one searched for personal health. Is it because of money or because of fear?

When I switched from homeschooling to public schooling, I became even more confused. These kids—these black kids—were dealing with the same things that white kids were, and yet we didn't have the same reaction to them. I had two friends get put in the mental hospital for suicide. I watched as two different groups consoled their friends. I had two more friends who weren't put in the mental hospital, but still tried to commit suicide. Instead, I watched as my peers bullied them. Why?

Why did people care less about these two black kids? They were smart, they were kind, they weren't "thugs," but who cares if they were? Two kids thought it would be okay if they weren't there anymore. Two kids thought that their families wouldn't care if they weren't there anymore. Maybe it's different how black families show their love. However, is it the kind of different that works?

We already have to deal with the pressures of racism constantly stabbing us in our backs, with the stereotypes that creep from under our beds like monsters. If anything, black people deserve therapy.

Black people have mental illnesses.

Why can't we say that without it being a shock?

stigma
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