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But Black Mental Health Matters Too. . .

Drew Ferebee,
Norfolk, VA

What are some character traits you think of when someone ask you to describe a black man? Whats the first thoughts that pops into your head when you think of a black woman? Strong. “He was a strong, easy going black man.” “Behind every man is a strong black woman.” For years society has categorized us as the strong ones. So growing up you had to look up to your “Strong Black Daddy” and not feel fear or show emotions, you’re the man of the house you don’t have time to be sad. or you have to be the “Strong Black Woman” your mom is to the world. You have to be superwoman you don’t have time to be a sadwoman. You have to be there for everybody else, and make sure everybody is okay before yourself. I have some good news. Everything you just read wasn’t true. You don’t have to be superwoman you can be superwoman and sadwoman at the same time! Society has put this false reality into our heads that showing your emotions are a sign of weakness and that talking about your feelings is a bad thing. I’m here to tell you they’re not. Supressing your emotions only leads to a life of suffering in silence, which then leads to depression and eventually a life thats going to need serious healing. Truth is we all need healing. We are all dealing with something whether it be self esteem, depression, or even grief. Most people don’t know that your most traumatic experiences will stem from your childhood. “What happens in this house stays in this house.” Is a term often said by black families, meaning that no matter what happens to you in this house, what ever happens to your siblings in this house, whatever happens to me in this house remember it stays in this house and stays in your head. Not understanding that this philosophy is creating a lot of broken, hurt, fearful, as well as terrible memories for children around the world. Your memories are what shape your thoughts about the world. Imagine living in a world where you’re carrying around the weight and hurt of your childhood because you were trying to fit this unrealistic identity of “Strong” because you’re told to NEVER be weak, and being weak is a wrong thing. Maybe you are living this life, maybe you’ve been superwoman all your life as well as sadwoman on the inside. Today, I encourage you to be free, I encourage you to speak your truth! Free those thoughts that are trying to control your thought. Release every hurt that has held you hostage. And let go of every memory that has molded your view or bad perception of the world. Your mental health matters, and yours does too. Black Mental Health Matters too.

You’re Invited! You’re not a minority?

Rafael Rosato,
Berwyn, PA.

This is my college graduation picture from 1988. I received a bachelor of arts degree from an Ivy League University and a short while later was traveling to New York to join a management training program at a prestigious Wall Street Bank. There were 34 of us in that class and we would be together for 18 months. On the first day of work I received an invitation to a reception with executives. How exciting!

But, I quickly became aware that many others had not received the same invitation. A few of my colleagues were invited, but I did not immediately put together that they were minorities. As the day wore on, that became the common attribute of those invited (about 5 of us). I was really uncomfortable about being classified as a minority, so I called HR to inquire about the real reason I was invited. Why? As my photograph illustrates, I am white and of a predominantly Irish heritage with an Italian grandfather. While at some point in American history my ethnic background could have been considered a minority, this was decidedly not the case in 1988.

The woman from HR that I telephoned was very nice. She quickly informed me that new minority employees can have problems adjusting to the predominantly white male environment of the bank. Therefore, they wanted to assign each of us a mentor to help us adjust and settle in. Also, if we were to have any problems, there would be someone looking after us. I guess they assumed my white colleagues could handle things themselves, so no mentors for them. I mentioned to the woman from HR that I thought this might seem like a good idea, but I did not understand why I was invited.

There was silence for an uncomfortable 5 seconds. “Well, what do you mean?” she asked.

“Because I am white and I don’t understand why the company thinks I am a minority”, I said.

“But your name is Hispanic… we just assumed.” she said

“No, my name is Italian”, is all I could say.

I told her I would not attend the reception. I went on to successfully finish the program and enjoy a successful career in finance. So have many of my colleagues. A few were terminated during the program for inability to grasp the work, some were lazy and were let go, and, one was fired for cheating. It is a shame that those qualities don’t show up in your name or in your skin color.

It did not dawn on me until much later in life how difficult it must be for people of race or color. When people see me in person, they judge me on the content of my character and my achievements, the way things ought to be. It may be good or bad, but I am in control. I am who I am. In this instance during my past, I was judged based on assumptions and misplaced stereotypes. I was sized up before I arrived and thought of as “less” even though I had a degree from one of the best universities in the world and was hired to work at one of the most prestigious banks in the world. I still struggle to imagine what it would be like to deal with that type of judgment from people everyday.

It was a lesson. I always try to remember it when I meet new people. I hope platforms like these open up the conversation and the world continues on a path to becoming a better place.

PS: I still get some Spanish language mail, it’s tough to get off those lists.

My dear friend’s current life below

Susan Nickason,
Penfield, NY.

Listening to the news this evening about the Charleston shooting, I hear “what harms our neighbor, harms us”

This speaks to me as it wasn’t even 2 months ago that I left Kemmerer, WY, under the cover of darkness because of the harassment and inexcusable behavior that seemed, well, normal. To them. A state that prides itself on equality.

While I was only there a year and some odd days, I quickly learned the values of Mormon speak, which was loud and in my face about my differences. I learned that God, while he was very present in almost all conversations, did not protect my kind as I was, am and always will be a sinner. I learned how officers of the law, who are supposedly held to a higher standard, nodded their often familiar bobble heads saying, they would keep watch. Yet, dead animals were still put on my porch, air was let out of my tires among other things and the night I left was harassed by two women who let me know of their intentions by keeping a gun in plain view of my sight. What did the police do? They patted them on the back and said, go home. Each time they came by house.

Knowing how small the town is, of course it was gossip by the next morning, and yet the Chief only made a call to me after he got a report from a community member saying it happened. Not that he was being updated that night by his officers the entire time it was transpiring.

It’s these moments that a community has the opportunity to stand up and say enough is enough. But instead they stayed silent, and when the city council who is supposedly leadership of the community, as they are voted in to be representatives were questioned, they said, we didn’t do anything wrong.

Your silence and doing nothing, is plenty…

While I share a summary of my story, there are so many others that have their own stories. Stories of how this land of the free home of the brave, has simply; Forgotten.

I watch my fb feed fill with intellectual discussions of how to come together and begin this exchange that has been pushed aside by mainstream media, because it’s hard and they are trying to avoid – the anger…

And I will say it for no one else but me, the anger will never go away. And the more these sensationalized stories about how these race related situations are not really about race, makes me even angrier. However, it is in my anger that I find logic that the only way to start fixing these problems is to start talking about a plan, to have a future that begins with admitting, we have a f****** problem.

I’m ready, are you?

Even a poor conversation beats silence.

Nicholas Howe,
Northhampton, MA.
Smith College

I attended a mixed-race suburban public high school in Connecticut, where I competed on both the swim team and the track team in the late 80’s. Only one member of the swim team was African American, and his race was the elephant in the room that nobody would talk about. As a result, while I recall no overtly racist incidents, a feeling of suspended tension always hung about his interactions with the rest of the team. By contrast, the track team was more racially balanced and issues of race were unavoidable. The conversation wasn’t always pretty, with plenty of teasing on all sides and probably a good deal of stereotyping as well. But the atmosphere was good-natured for the most part and certainly felt to me a whole lot more healthy than the nervous silence in the locker room by the pool.

Speak if silence is a privilege.

10524970_750374361683463_1066974071_nAnnie Berman,
Northhampton, MA.
Smith College

This is what it means to be a good ally. It is not POC’s job to be the only ones constantly asserting that their lives matter. Silence can be a powerful tool of resistance and empowerment, but not when white people who think race does not concern them choose it. (Smith College)

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