Trigger Warning: This blog post mentions suicide, depression, and anxiety. Please proceed with caution, and take care of yourselves. - Love and light, Afiya
How do we, as Black people - as Black women - measure “strength”? I’d be willing to bet money that when we associate strength with Black women, it’s rarely about the physical. It’s about how much we can bear, and that’s seen as a sign of strength. It’s time to put an end to that.
I’m sure the intent is pure when people say “check on your strong friends,” but the impact is rather harmful, I’d say. To retort to the narrative of “strength” in the wake of a Black woman taking her own life, feels extremely tone deaf, and quite ableist. We need to get real and have open, honest dialogue about suicide and mental illnesses. So many of us as Black women are struggling, fighting to find reasons to stay alive.
Within the Black community, we need to educate ourselves about mental illnesses the best we can - being Black in this country is enough for us to have poor mental health, and it’s important that we recognize that. According to the 1974 Americans With Disabilities Act, Depression and anxiety are classified as disabilities. It’s a little tricky though, because they are also known as “invisible” disabilities, so that plus stigma makes it hard for most of the general population to understand. Not having the support we need from our communities can exasperate those feelings, but also not having the language to express ourselves and the resources to get professional help/medical care can also be very debilitating.
In my own experience, and I’m sure I’m not alone in this - dealing with an illness/disability like depression is so much more complex than the binary “strength” vs “weakness” or having those suicidal thoughts assuaged with a check-in from a friend. Not that having your loved ones check in with you is a bad thing, because for me, it does help to know that my people care about me, but if I’m really struggling to find reasons to live and am in a dark place mentally, it can definitely be hard to name that in a text conversation that is likely intended to be benign. Of course, mental illnesses look different from person to person, so this isn’t a guidebook on how to approach someone in your life who may be having a rough time mentally; What I am saying though, is that the notion of “The Strong Friend” needs to be excluded when we talk about Black women and mental health. “The Strong Friend” refers to a Black woman who seems to have it all together; successful in their career, nice house, fancy car, etc. (think Molly from Insecure, or Joan from Girlfriends). But if we look past all the material things these women have, they are very clearly dealing with the weight of existing as a Black woman in this society. “The Strong Friend” usually does not show emotions that we have learned to associate with “weakness,” which is where the problem comes in. When we say things like “check on your strong friend,” we continue to perpetuate the idea that vulnerability is equated with weakness or is an antithesis to strength.
In a tweet by user @blackgirlinmain, the prospect of depression and anxiety showing up as hyper focus/doing it all is highlighted- it’s important that we stop equating these symptoms with “strength.” It reduces the magnitude of these mental illnesses and also makes it seem like being able to present to the world as though nothing is wrong is a badge of honor. Alternatively, I propose that we adjust our language from “check on your strong friends” to “ask your friends how you can show up for them” or even “be compassionate when you check on your friends.”
Twitter user @_Sparkssflyy wrote a very timely and important thread about ways to intentionally check on our friends, which I think can be an extremely useful tool in having more honest conversations about our mental health.
Suicide is definitely a hard thing to talk about, but continuing to stigmatize it or make it taboo, is a missed opportunity to allow Black women to feel safe discussing how we feel. And of course, the onus isn’t solely on us as a community - the government needs to do better at providing mental health/crisis resources for Black people/Black women, and adequate access to care for our mental health. But until then, I think it’s imperative that we as a community do the best we can to hold each other down.
Black women deserve softness. We deserve safety. Vulnerability. Compassion. Understanding. But most of all, we deserve to be taken care of, especially mentally.
Sources & Resources:
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
Hours: Available 24 hours. Languages: English, Spanish.
800-273-8255
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