How Mental Health Myths Shape Black Women’s Care
How one harmful belief continues to shape mental health care and what we can do about it
Content Warning: This post discusses suicide and suicidal thoughts. If you or someone you know is in crisis, please reach out for help immediately. Support is available 24/7.
“Do you think I’m crazy?”
I could hear him swallow hard as I calmly replied, “No, Dad, I don’t think you’re crazy. I’ve been going to therapy for a few years now, and it’s really helped me. I think it can help you, too.”
My pitch wasn’t exactly the best, but my father did eventually start regularly seeing a therapist. His initial skepticism wasn’t surprising given that I’d grown up hearing him say we should “bring our troubles to the Lord.” While I wholeheartedly believe in the power of prayer, I also believe in the power of therapy to support our mental health.
When I started going to therapy regularly, it was after moving to Massachusetts for graduate school. Despite serving around the world during my time in the Marine Corps, transitioning back to civilian life was hard. Halfway through my second semester of graduate school, I had a mental breakdown that “pushed” me to seek support from the Veterans Administration. Luckily, I had an excellent VA counselor who did not let me leave my appointment until she had me scheduled to speak with a therapist.
Unfortunately, I know that not everyone has the positive experiences I’ve had when it comes to seeking support for mental health. Pervasive mental health myths have made it difficult for those - especially Black women who come from faith backgrounds - to seek care. We are often carrying the weight of mental health myths that have shaped generations in the Black community. For that reason, mental health struggles were usually ascribed to not trusting enough in the Lord.
Even though today, I know that couldn’t be further from the truth, it doesn’t remove the tension that can arise when we feel like we must choose between trusting God and receiving clinical care. My experiences have taught me that you can trust in God and go to therapy. However, I’ll leave my thoughts about therapy not conflicting with theology for another date.
What I want to dive into specifically today is one of the most dangerous mental health myths affecting Black women: the Strong Black Woman myth.
The Strong Black Woman Myth
There’s a quote attributed to Nakeia Homer that says: “Behind every strong woman is a story that gave her no choice.” That quote hits home for me because I think about the mental health struggles of Black women who didn’t have the choice but to be strong. When being strong is a necessity, it’s not surprising that Black women are not seeking the mental health support that they need.
I’ve seen it in my own story, but I’ve sadly seen it in the stories of others. One of which feels very resonant as we’re coming upon the first anniversary of the death by suicide of Dr. Antoinette (Bonnie) Candia-Bailey, the former vice president of student affairs at Lincoln University. Her tragic passing not only shook the Historically Black College and University (HBCU) community, but it brought home the harsh reality that bullying and harassment in the workplace contribute to mental harm. Even the “strongest” women are going to be impacted by constant bullying and harassment at work.
I know because I was once seen as one of those “strong” women. I was also experiencing intense bullying at work, so I know on a personal level that Dr. Bonnie’s story isn’t an isolated incident. When I was dealing with a boss who regularly belittled me and mispronounced my name, I began to dread going into work. It had gotten so bad to the point where I contemplated taking my own life. I don’t share that lightly, as I know it can be activating for those who’ve been there before or have lost someone who has died by suicide.
However, I share this part of my story for a particular reason. One day, while a group of us were waiting for our “reviews” with said boss, one of the women spoke up and said she was dreading talking to her. She just knew it would be 15 minutes of hearing everything she was doing wrong. It was like a lightbulb went on for all of us as we realized we weren’t alone in our experiences. More importantly, WE were not the problem. Our boss was just a mean, vindictive woman who got her kicks by degrading her subordinates. The sad part is that she’s pretty well known in the women’s studies field, which is why we all wanted to work with her. That experience was a painful lesson that not all women are for women.
That experience also taught me that I would NEVER AGAIN allow any job to compromise my mental health. The time I spent working for her and the subsequent months that followed after leaving that toxic work environment would be the darkest period of my entire life. And I’ve faced some pretty dark times in my life. I’ve engaged in self-harm in my life, but that was the first time I truly made a conscious plan to end my life. For me, that was the catalyst that pushed me to say that I’d rather be unemployed than employed by a monster. I know in these economic times that might sound like a bold statement, but it’s because I know my mental health might not survive another dark time like that.
That’s why I know all too well that, even in spaces where safety is assumed, we must be intentional about holding those accountable who engage in (deliberate or unintentional) harm. The person that I am today knows that silence truly is violence. When we were silent about how our boss was treating us, we carried the weight of being strong because we didn’t want to be perceived as weak. The moment one woman dared to say the quiet part out loud, it gave us all permission to do the same.
Key Takeaways
Even if you’ve never worked in a toxic workplace, it doesn’t mean mental health myths haven’t impacted you. I share the Strong Black Woman Myth because it’s one of the most pervasive, and it creates harm in ways that we often don’t talk enough about. It’s not just about burning out, but getting to the point where we want to check out for good.
I understand that calling someone “strong” might seem like a compliment, but I hope sharing Dr. Bonnie’s story and my own has given you another perspective. The baggage that comes with being strong all the time is too heavy for any of us to bear. If you’re feeling that you need to be that strong woman (or person) today, I want you to take the cape off and burn it!
Our mental health is too important to keep putting on the back burner. We all deserve care, so it’s time for the myth that we need to be strong all the time to go.
Here’s what that can look like for you:
If you’re a patient, it means speaking up when you’re struggling. I know it’s not easy to speak with your providers, but your silence is not serving you. No one can help you if they don’t know that something is wrong.
If you’re an advocate, it means sharing your story. I know it can be uncomfortable to talk about the complex parts of our mental health journey. The more we are open to talking about it, the more we normalize the fact that it’s okay not always to be OK.
If you’re a provider, it means creating a welcoming environment where people can be open about their mental health. Even if you’re not a therapist, you can provide a referral if appropriate, so they can get the help they need.
The point is that, like many things, mental health isn’t a solo journey. It’s something that requires outside support, and many resources can help you along the way. If you know of any that can be of support to this community, drop them in the comments!