Category: Blog

By Chase Breimeier

In the first part of this two-part blog series for Black History Month, we explored the personal lives and mental health challenges of two historical Black activists—Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Maya Angelou—in order to highlight their character, courage, and honor them beyond their accomplishments.

As the second part of this series, we hope to accomplish the same goal but this time with some contemporary figures in Black and African American culture. In light of this, here are the mental health experiences of two influential Black entertainers:

Oprah Winfrey (1954 – Present)

Most frequently known for her engaging and caring personality on television, Oprah Winfrey is also an actress, entrepreneur, and writer. But—beyond all of that success and fame—she is a regular human with real emotions who has struggled at various points throughout her life. During her childhood, Winfrey was abused by relatives starting at the age of nine. The trauma that she endured took a mental and emotional toll on her well-being and eventually caused her to consider taking her own life when she was 14. Although she was able to fight through this period in her life, she encountered more mental health challenges later on in her career. Winfrey battled with depression following her film adaptation of Toni Morrison’s “Beloved” in 1998. She described her experience with mental illness as feeling as if she “‘was behind a veil’”.

The fact that Winfrey was able to overcome the difficult circumstances and mental health challenges of both her childhood and adulthood—let alone still follow her dreams and succeed—is a testament to her resilience, perseverance, and courage. Moreover, it is inspiring to think about her generosity, desire to give back, and all the lives that she has positively impacted—both directly and indirectly—throughout her career. Recently, Winfrey has even demonstrated a commitment to mental health advocacy. She is currently working alongside Prince Harry (the Duke of Sussex) to produce a documentary series surrounding mental health that will premiere this spring.

Alicia Keys (1981 – Present)

Often recognized for her powerful vocals and soulful music as a singer-songwriter, Alicia Keys is also a record producer and actress, among many other things. Yet, few people know Keys’s personal story and mental health challenges. Keys struggled with depression during a period of her career. In describing her experience, she said, “‘I was feeling so sad all the time, and I couldn’t shake it.’” Keys has also shared how her depression affected her relationships with friends, family members, and even her significant other. She describes how she was emotionally holding back, stating, “‘I became a master of putting up the wall so that I was unreadable.’”

Keys’s perseverance in navigating her mental health challenges—while carrying out a successful music career—is inspiring. She did not let her mental illness define her as a person nor prevent her as a musician from sharing her passion with listeners all over the world. Not to mention, Keys has showcased immense courage by speaking publicly about her depression and mental health, despite all of the stigma present in society. It is clear that she believes that mental health challenges are universal and therefore, discussions surrounding them should be as well.

While we often—and rightfully so—praise historical and contemporary figures for their achievements, it is important that we also spend time appreciating who they were/are. Each of the four Black figures that we have explored in this two-part series—Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Maya Angelou, Oprah Winfrey, and Alicia Keys—has their own unique story and experiences surrounding mental health. However, all of their stories speak to their character and courage and serve to further remind us of their greatness.

Journal questions to #takethewheel:

1. What do the personal stories of Oprah Winfrey and Alicia Keys mean to you as we celebrate Black History Month? 
2. How do the mental health experiences of Oprah Winfrey and Alicia Keys shape your perspective of mental health?

By Jason Frederick

“Black Lives Matter!” 

There’s no way you haven’t heard the phrase, especially since, after the death of George Floyd, there were protests on all 7 of the Earth’s continents (yes, even Antarctica). While people have all different types of opinions about the movement, I find myself more interested in the psychology of the phrase itself. As I thought about the phrase and the fate of the Black people that it represents from a mental health standpoint, a question emerged in my mind: How do people who have been made to feel that they must defend the value of their lives to others truly feel about themselves? I would expect that living under these circumstances would have some kind of impact on self-esteem. Wouldn’t you?

I turned to the world of research and found something that was very counterintuitive for me. Black people consistently report the highest levels of self-esteem in multiracial studies on this topic. Trying to reconcile what I expected with what I discovered, I remembered my dad telling me, “When I was little, it used to be an insult to call somebody Black. But then, James Brown told us, ‘I’m Black and I’m proud’ and we became okay with it.” Cautiously optimistic, I began to think that maybe Black History Month and other representation campaigns have accomplished their intended result! Maybe Black pride is on the rise! Other researchers pointed to factors like finding strength and support in communities of faith and musical expression as playing a role in bolstering self-esteem.

But despite what the studies were showing me, I couldn’t shake this feeling of distrust with the numbers. I mean, are we really going to act like 180 years is enough time for a people’s collective identity to go from “I am property, used and abused by white men as they see fit” to “I feel better about myself than anyone else”? It’s only been 53 years since Dr. King was killed for his role in the struggle for racial equality, and we’re still reminding others (and maybe ourselves) that “Black Lives Matter.” I couldn’t make sense of it.

That’s when I came across a study done by Zeigler-Hill, Wallace and Myers in 2012 that revisited the “Black self-esteem advantage.” They had 95 undergraduate students complete a measure of their self-esteem, and then had them come back later to complete the same measure. The difference was that some of them were hooked up to a fake lie detector (referred to as a “bogus pipeline” procedure) while others were not. In the words of the researchers, “Black participants with high levels of self-esteem were found to report more modest feelings of self-worth in the bogus pipeline condition than in the control condition. The results of the study suggest that impression management may be an important consideration when examining the feelings of self-worth reported by members of stigmatized groups.”

Think about that. These Black students who originally spoke highly about their self-esteem gave lower answers when they thought the researcher would know whether or not they were answering truthfully. Why would they feel the need to report higher-than-actual self-esteem to a perfect stranger? I can’t answer for these students, but in my experience with my culture, a Black person’s image and the impression it leaves on others is fiercely protected. Sometimes, Black people feel like their image is all they have! Listen to a hip hop station for an hour and count how many times you hear a rapper compliment himself – his money, his cars, his sexual escapades, etc. Look at how flashy the music videos are and all the jewelry the artists are wearing. Why do so many black artists feel a need to show or tell the world how awesome they are? And why does that idea sell so much?

I remember a chart-topping rap song entitled “This Is Why I’m Hot.” The beat was pretty average and its lyrical content was on par with a nursery rhyme (listen to Hickory Dickory Dock and then play “This Is Why I’m Hot” – you’ll see what I mean). The artist literally said “I can make a mill saying nothing on the track”! But a lot of Black folks loved the song! I can’t speak for all, but I think one of the reasons why some people loved it is because it resonated with their own desire or even need for impression management. 

I’ve seen a lot of Black people who live in dilapidated homes with fancy cars riding on plus-sized chrome wheels parked outside. When these people go out into the community, they appear as though they have reached some level of status or financial security based on what the average person sees. They are managing the impressions that others have of them. Critical thinking will reveal this pattern of displaying virtual strength and wholeness in a variety of ways throughout the African American community.

Of concern to me is my belief that this phenomenon absolutely plays itself out in terms of mental health. Research and my lived experiences show that a strong cultural value of African Americans is to not show any signs of weakness or vulnerability. Last February, I saw a meme that showed an illustration of what it might have looked like on a Transatlantic slave trade ship. The exact words of the caption escape me, but a loose paraphrase would be, “Our ancestors did not survive slavery, Jim Crow segregation, being attacked by police dogs, sprayed with fire hoses, etc. only to have you give up because you’re having a bad day.” The punchline was “It’s not in our DNA to quit!” 

Obviously, the post was intended to celebrate the resilience demonstrated in the African American heritage and instill a sense of pride and strength, but I’m concerned about how messages like this reinforce a belief that we should be (or at least appear to others that we are) strong enough to handle whatever we’re up against on our own by virtue of our own internal strength of will. That is simply not true.

Mental health is not a matter of willpower any more than overcoming a cold is. There are any number of social, genetic and biological factors that can converge on and wreak havoc against a person’s psychological well-being. Whether it’s self-esteem, depression, anxiety, or just feeling stuck in life, there is no shame in asking for and seeking mental health support any more than there is in going to the hospital to treat a broken arm. 

Without question, the African American community has shown incredible strength and resilience to accomplish what members of our community have accomplished in the face of overwhelming odds and opposition. Without question, the men and women of color who fought for equality and achieved excellence in their various spheres of society deserve to be honored and celebrated as their lives teach us about perseverance and character. But their progress was not the result of superhuman lone rangers who were single-handedly strong enough to carry the world on their back like the Titan Atlas. No, they were collaborative efforts of individuals working together and supporting one another.

So don’t let your Black Pride keep you from reaching out and receiving the support that you may be in need of. You are not doing a disservice to your heritage or misrepresenting your people to admit that you’re having a hard time with something and need some assistance. It’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to admit to yourself and to others that you’re facing something that you’re finding it difficult to cope with. There’s healing and strength in letting your guard down, accepting where you are, and being vulnerable. Denying or hiding your struggles does not produce the virtue of pride; it produces conceit. Pride comes when you honestly face all of you – the good, the bad, and the “Help wanted” – and accept yourself for where you are with compassion.

The Health and Human Services Office of Minority Health reported that Black adults are more likely than white adults to report that all or most of the time, they feel sadness, hopelessness, or that everything is an effort, yet only one in three Black adults who need mental health receive it. While there are many barriers standing between Black people and quality mental health, I’m urging you to help me remove the stumbling block of “Black conceit” (i.e., the impression management that causes people to hold themselves back from a path to healing). 

Let’s be honest – America has given us enough history and images in the news to affect our view of ourselves and disturb our mental health. It’s okay to own that and/or any other mental health concerns you may be experiencing. But it starts with letting go of our tendency towards impression management and embracing ourselves in vulnerability and compassion. That’s the only way we really can “Say it loud” (and honestly):

I’m Black and I’m proud!

Questions to journal about and #takethewheel:

1. How did your family deal with situations that were emotionally challenging when you were growing up? Do you still subscribe to those “rules” now?
2. What types of things have you done, or do you do to protect your image?
3. Who are the people in your life who you can be completely real with, no matter what you’re feeling or facing?

By Jason Frederick

I grew up the youngest of three sons. I’m guessing that by the time I was 12 years old, both of my big brothers had told me on separate occasions that they didn’t see any point in emotions or that emotions make you weak. My dad characterized taking actions based on your emotions rather than logic and reason as the negative side of being a female. Now, it may be that my developing mind interpreted into these interactions a meaning beyond their original intent, but I know that for me, these statements established or reinforced a notion that men are not supposed to have or listen to their emotions. 

I don’t think my experience was all that unique. Maybe you had an older brother, uncle, or father who told you that boys don’t cry. Maybe you were or saw someone else who was picked on, ostracized, or bullied for being emotional. If you’ve heard it said that a guy was “in his feelings,” was it a compliment? I’m sure you’ve heard the expression “man up” used to encourage someone to suppress their emotions so that they can focus on and accomplish the task at hand. In 21st century America, you’ve been exposed to the idea that having emotions is a sign of weakness for a man. 

It seems as though the archetypal alpha male – the tribe’s lead hunter who went out to kill game, defend the tribe, and enjoy the status that his successful ventures were met with – is still alive and well today. It’s just more sophisticated. We may not be taught to be the best hunter or warrior, but our society is enthralled with the idea of the self-made man. Independence, success, strength – these are the types of traits that a man must have to be acceptable by society’s standards. Therefore, any notion or semblance of weakness must be jettisoned from the body as quickly as possible by any means necessary.  

So what do we do with those “weak” emotions? What do we do if we’re just sad? What if we’re not just sad, but depressed? How does a man, who is supposed to be adequate enough to handle any situation life throws at him on his own, deal with the anxiety that keeps him up at night? What do we do with fear, overwhelmedness, self-doubt or any of the rest of the whole host of unpleasant human emotions? For a lot of men out there, the answer is simple. Deny, deny, deny.  

I was volunteering at a nonprofit organization that helps men, most of whom had a criminal record, to get back on their feet with a job placement and life skills coaching. We had breakout groups where we discussed various topics concerning manhood. One week, we were discussing the topic of emotions. I don’t remember very clearly what question I asked one of the participants at my table regarding how he dealt with his emotions, but I may never forget his answer. Very nonchalantly, almost as if he thought he was sharing common knowledge, he said, “That’s what the drugs are for.” 

The problem is that emotions are not like a water faucet that can be turned off and ignored at will without consequence. No, emotions are much more like a raging river that is, at best, only going to be dammed up for a limited time until the flood waters breach the dam and it bursts. And if men are being taught to deny, suppress, numb out with drugs and alcohol, or any other form of avoiding those emotions, it’s only a matter of time before the dam breaks.

My point is simply this – in an effort to embody what our society has told us is what the ideal man is like, many of us have conditioned ourselves to deny a foundational part of what it means to be human. We are rational and emotional beings, every last one of us. While it is true that women are more likely than men to be diagnosed with depression (10.4% vs. 5.5%), anxiety disorders (23.4 vs. 14.3), and other emotional disregulation disorders, men are more likely to commit violent crimes (research in New York shows 97% of domestic abuse perpetrators are men), abuse drugs and alcohol (11.5% men vs. 6.4% of women have a substance abuse problem), and commit suicide (men died by suicide 3.56x more than women). Any good counselor will tell you that trying to intervene on these types of behaviors without addressing the underlying emotions is a waste of time. 

I wonder what would happen if more men were given the space, validation, and encouragement to learn how to process and express their emotions. What would happen if men who exhibit sensitivity, tenderness, and compassion were lauded commonly rather than shamed? Can you imagine the pervasive impact that would have on our society as a whole? Do you think that impact would be positive or negative? 

Maybe you think that this would result in a generation of weak men who are too emotional to make the decisions that need to be made and win the battles that need to be won. However, I have two rebuttals to that idea. First, choosing not to be aware of or accepting towards your emotion does not mean that it does not exist, nor does it mean that it is not affecting you. Accepting your feelings doesn’t mean that they have to control you. And that leads to my second point, which is this: there is a difference between weakness and meekness. Weakness is the absence of power. But in some senses, meekness is the restraint of power. Said differently, weakness is the inability to exercise power. Meekness is the ability to not exercise power. 

For those who follow it, the Bible describes Jesus as being meek, meek enough to enjoy spending time with little kids, weep at a funeral, and be overcome by compassion many times. However, he was still strong enough to speak truth to power, boldly confronting the leaders of his day and sparking a movement that still stands for justice towards the oppressed 2,000 years later. He was meek, sensitive, and comfortable with his emotions, but he was still able to fight the battles that needed to be fought. Emotional awareness and acceptance are not opposed to strength. In fact, being emotionally aware is a necessary component for being able to use your strength most effectively and productively. It’s only a matter of time before your emotions pull the trigger – the question is whether or not you know what you’re being aimed at and why.

For men like me who were conditioned to suppress emotions from an early age, the journey to emotional awareness isn’t easy. If you want to start, though, I have a few suggestions for you. 

1. Find a counselor who creates space for you to explore the real inner you and process your emotions. It might seem a bit self-serving of me to say it, but your journey can be accelerated under the guidance and support of a trained professional. I always feel like my sessions with my counselor are worth the time and money when I have that “Aha!” moment where I finally can put words to something that’s been hovering just outside of my conscious reach. 

2. Keep a journal. You don’t have to write pages upon pages if you don’t want to. Just review your day and think about a couple highlights, whether your day was chill or uncomfortable. Then write out what you felt about those highlights. I use an app called Daybook because it makes this process very manageable and undaunting. It has a ton of prompts just to get you thinking, writing, and, most importantly, processing. Just go to daybook.app or download it in the app store. Alternatively, there’s always the tried-and-true method of pen and paper. Whatever works for you, taking 5-10 minutes a day to listen to your feelings and write what you hear will pay dividends. 

3. Take your emotional temperature every once in a while. I’m at my healthiest when I take time at least once a day to identify 5 feelings that I’m experiencing. Sometimes it’s less than 5, and sometimes it’s more. The main thing is about being honest with myself and accepting what I’m feeling without judging or censoring the feelings. Identifying emotions in the moment was hard for me at first, but someone taught me to just sit in silence and notice any sensations in my body. Pressure or tightness in the chest, discomfort in the stomach, a drained feeling in the back of my eyes, etc. Over time, I started noticing that these sensations were related to certain emotions. Pressure in my chest means I feel stressed or overwhelmed and am having a hard time relaxing. Discomfort in the stomach means I’m afraid that I have or will let someone down and they will be mad at me. The tiredness behind my eyes means that I’m feeling burned out and irritated with someone or something. As you can imagine, this awareness gives me the option to choose healthy ways to take care of myself and respond to what I’m dealing with rather than just reacting. In other words, I can aim before the trigger is pulled.

I won’t claim that I have arrived at mastery when it comes to emotional integration with myself, but I will say that I don’t regret anything that I have gained along the way. I’m more able to release the feelings that would lead me to do things I would regret. My interactions with people feel like more of the real me is coming out rather than me going on auto-pilot. It’s just a different, more authentic way to live. To be honest, it’s a harder way to live. And that fact makes me think that maybe we’ve gotten it backwards all this time. Because what if the presence and influence of emotions doesn’t make a man weak, but rather our unwillingness to be “in our feelings” shows that we fear we are too weak to face our emotions? If that’s you, I’d like to encourage you with these 2 words: 

Man up!

Questions to journal about and #takethewheel:

1. Describe any occasions where you witnessed males demonstrating strong emotions (especially an emotion other than anger). What emotion was shown, by whom, and how was it received by those around him?
2. How have you encouraged (or discouraged) the boys or men in your life in expressing their emotions?
3. As a man, who do you share your emotions with? What is it like, or what do you think it would be like – to be emotionally vulnerable with others?

By Chase Breimeier

During Black History Month, we have the opportunity and privilege to celebrate and honor the Black and African Americans who have worked courageously to push our nation toward a brighter future. In remembering these individuals, however, our society tends to focus primarily on their accomplishments while often neglecting to understand their personal stories. In other words, we likely know much more about what they did than who they were.

In order to understand a couple of these social justice leaders on a more personal level, showcase their character and strength, and honor them beyond their accomplishments, here are the mental health experiences of two key Black activists:

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. (1929 – 1968)

Arguably the most notable figure in the Civil Rights Movement, Dr. King is often known for his role as an activist, minister, and advocate of peaceful protest. However, most people are less familiar with his personal life. Throughout his childhood and adolescence, Dr. King struggled with his mental health, especially pertaining to the loss of his grandmother. In adulthood, Dr. King continued to struggle with his mental health and experienced periods of severe depression.

The power in Dr. King’s story resides in the fact that despite his own personal battle with mental illness, he continued to lead the fight alongside Black and African Americans with the hopes that they could change the future of their country. His steadfast commitment to his vision of equality and equal treatment for all is a testament to his character, determination, and perseverance.

Moreover, some historians believe that Dr. King’s success can be partially attributed to an extreme form of empathy that he possessed, which is sometimes found among those with depression. With this in mind, it is clear that mental health challenges can be sources of strength and provide individuals with opportunities for growth and success.

Maya Angelou (1928 – 2014)

Often remembered as a poet and memoirist, Angelou was an activist who also struggled with her mental health. The physical and psychological trauma of her childhood caused her to have an anxiety disorder known as selective mutism. This disorder limited her ability to speak, and she was mute for a period of almost five years. It was during this time, however, that her memorizing, observing, and listening skills improved. She also began to develop a more intense love for books.

Just like the story of Dr. King, the story of Angelou is very powerful because of her refusal to let her challenges with mental health define her as a person. She fervently pursued her passion for the arts and literature into adulthood, which ultimately speaks to her perseverance, tenacity, and talent. She ended up having a successful career and played a substantial role in the Civil Rights Movement.

While it is incredibly important to recognize and celebrate the accomplishments of Black and African Americans during Black History Month—as well as during the other eleven months of the year—I believe that it is also truly worthwhile to take time to better understand their personal stories. By learning more about the lives of Black activists, such as Dr. King and Maya Angelou, we can gain a newfound sense of appreciation for these individuals and find inspiration to act with courage and resilience in our own lives.

Journal questions to #takethewheel:

1. What do the personal stories of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Maya Angelou mean to you as we celebrate Black History Month?
2. As you continue to navigate your own personal mental health journey, how can you learn from and draw upon the mental health experiences of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Maya Angelou?