"In every crisis there is a message. Crises are nature's way of forcing change--breaking down old structures, shaking loose negative habits sot that something new and better can take their place."
The sky is blue, that's what we know it to be right? The grass is usually green, unless improperly taken care of. An apple can be red or green, or are they yellow? But wait, no, bananas are yellow. But they're also brown. But how can a banana have the same color as an animal? Because, there are in fact, brown animals, but there's also white animals. However, there's also colored animals, or are those people? Or does it not really matter what's on the outside, but what's on the inside? Cause that's what we were taught growing up right? But how is it we allegedly see no color on the outside but see color on the inside?
"We see color on the inside?" Yes, we see color on the inside. Not just the fact that we have red and blue veins, or our hearts are pinkish, but that our brains are black and white. "Our brains are actually a light pink, though." We see our brains black and white.
Too often it's been said that African Americans aren't "allowed" to be sad and depressed, and upset or angry, or really display any signs of emotions, because "that's just not what we do". We're just supposed to talk to God about it and wash it under the rug and one day when we wake up our problems go away. We're supposed to just deal with it ourselves because "we don't need those folk in our business". Well, it's about time we get those folk in our business because we won't get in our own business. It's time that we finally allow our community to be heard, because if we don't listen to each other then how do we expect anyone else to listen to us? We can talk to God about it all day long but what happened to James 2:14-22?
Do people even know what it means to be depressed? Are we educated enough on the signs of someone with depression, whether chronic or mild, or do we just assume a depressed person is someone who's dealing with something that's "not that serious" and they'll be over it by the end of the week. But what happens when that person doesn't make it to the end of the week because they felt like nobody cared? Because nobody listened? Do you care then? But why? It's too late.
Do you even know what it's like to feel nothing? Not having enough energy to even roll over in the mornings. Not having the urge to even check your phone, even though someone has some good news for you. Imagine not even caring about something you've hoped for for so long because it just doesn't even matter anymore. Imagine not even wanting to shower and put clothes on, turn the TV, eat, or even walk to the kitchen. Remember when your friend used to do their make up every day? Or put on their freshest outfits for even the slightest occasion? But suddenly they stopped. Or when ya'll enjoyed movie nights every Saturday after work and those enjoyable nights decreased week by week. Or you even realized your friend stopped going to work. Stopped showing up to weekly functions.
Did you know that these are signs of a depressed person? Or do you assume they're just not feeling well and having a few bad days because they're black?
"Them being black has nothing to do with their behavior". Little do you know, it does. These are a couple of things we, as a black community aren't allowed to do. Many of our grandparents and even parents went through periods of times where they weren't allowed to really have emotions, especially men. They weren't allowed to be upset, and they definitely weren't allowed to express themselves, especially women. So we're expected to just charge our problems to the game and keep it pushing because other people are going through things worse than we are. Yet, somehow that doesn't fix the problem at hand. And isn't it crazy how now, in 2019 even, we STILL have issues with children and young adults expressing themselves out of fear that they won't be understood and especially not heard.
Understood that their lives matter, especially because they're black. Because if black lives matters when they die, why don't they matter when they're alive?
We could have cuts on our arms, rope burns on our necks, books full of cries, pillows full of tears, actions that speak louder than our words but our lives don't matter until it's no longer there. BUT WHY? Because black mental health does not matter until it takes a life of its own. Nobody cares about a black life and especially not a black mind until it's no longer able to function. So why does it get to this point?
Because we don't get help. We won't get help. Sometimes we feel like we can't get help. It's always "I'm here for you when you need me" but when we need you where are you exactly? Why can't you be found? And when you are found why is just a prayer supposed to keep us? Why when we come to you the bare minimum is done to help us just to get us away, but when we're lying in that hospital bed, or yet, lying on the floor dead that's when effort wants to be given.
Should've, could've, would've but you didn't. The signs where there yet now you wish there was something you could've done. And there was. You just didn't listen.
You noticed when drinking became nightly instead of every weekend, when it became 5 glasses instead of 2 but you just figured they became an alcoholic suddenly and they should get help for that but didn't dig into why they became an alcoholic. You noticed it went from marijuana here and there then they became addicted to crack cocaine and meth and they should get help for that but didn't wonder why the addiction came about. You noticed their one partner turned into what seemed to be a new partner every night and the only way they could even enjoy the sex was if they were drunk or high, or even both, and that they needed help for that but never asked why they indulged so much sexually and only when they're inebriated.
It's usually there. Some of us are good at hiding it though because we already have it set in our minds no one cares anyway so what's the point? I've been figuring it out this long I'll find a way to continue. But others, these are signs of cries for help. Sometimes we want help and just don't know how to go about it and so we act out in hopes someone notices but when you don't. When no matter how loud we scream. How many tears we shed. How many self harm scars we have. How many sad tweets and Instagram posts there are. When all of that is visible and it's still not noticed, the only solution we can think of is to become invisible.
- Susan L. Taylor
The sky is blue, that's what we know it to be right? The grass is usually green, unless improperly taken care of. An apple can be red or green, or are they yellow? But wait, no, bananas are yellow. But they're also brown. But how can a banana have the same color as an animal? Because, there are in fact, brown animals, but there's also white animals. However, there's also colored animals, or are those people? Or does it not really matter what's on the outside, but what's on the inside? Cause that's what we were taught growing up right? But how is it we allegedly see no color on the outside but see color on the inside?
"We see color on the inside?" Yes, we see color on the inside. Not just the fact that we have red and blue veins, or our hearts are pinkish, but that our brains are black and white. "Our brains are actually a light pink, though." We see our brains black and white.
Too often it's been said that African Americans aren't "allowed" to be sad and depressed, and upset or angry, or really display any signs of emotions, because "that's just not what we do". We're just supposed to talk to God about it and wash it under the rug and one day when we wake up our problems go away. We're supposed to just deal with it ourselves because "we don't need those folk in our business". Well, it's about time we get those folk in our business because we won't get in our own business. It's time that we finally allow our community to be heard, because if we don't listen to each other then how do we expect anyone else to listen to us? We can talk to God about it all day long but what happened to James 2:14-22?
Do people even know what it means to be depressed? Are we educated enough on the signs of someone with depression, whether chronic or mild, or do we just assume a depressed person is someone who's dealing with something that's "not that serious" and they'll be over it by the end of the week. But what happens when that person doesn't make it to the end of the week because they felt like nobody cared? Because nobody listened? Do you care then? But why? It's too late.
Do you even know what it's like to feel nothing? Not having enough energy to even roll over in the mornings. Not having the urge to even check your phone, even though someone has some good news for you. Imagine not even caring about something you've hoped for for so long because it just doesn't even matter anymore. Imagine not even wanting to shower and put clothes on, turn the TV, eat, or even walk to the kitchen. Remember when your friend used to do their make up every day? Or put on their freshest outfits for even the slightest occasion? But suddenly they stopped. Or when ya'll enjoyed movie nights every Saturday after work and those enjoyable nights decreased week by week. Or you even realized your friend stopped going to work. Stopped showing up to weekly functions.
Did you know that these are signs of a depressed person? Or do you assume they're just not feeling well and having a few bad days because they're black?
"Them being black has nothing to do with their behavior". Little do you know, it does. These are a couple of things we, as a black community aren't allowed to do. Many of our grandparents and even parents went through periods of times where they weren't allowed to really have emotions, especially men. They weren't allowed to be upset, and they definitely weren't allowed to express themselves, especially women. So we're expected to just charge our problems to the game and keep it pushing because other people are going through things worse than we are. Yet, somehow that doesn't fix the problem at hand. And isn't it crazy how now, in 2019 even, we STILL have issues with children and young adults expressing themselves out of fear that they won't be understood and especially not heard.
Understood that their lives matter, especially because they're black. Because if black lives matters when they die, why don't they matter when they're alive?
We could have cuts on our arms, rope burns on our necks, books full of cries, pillows full of tears, actions that speak louder than our words but our lives don't matter until it's no longer there. BUT WHY? Because black mental health does not matter until it takes a life of its own. Nobody cares about a black life and especially not a black mind until it's no longer able to function. So why does it get to this point?
Because we don't get help. We won't get help. Sometimes we feel like we can't get help. It's always "I'm here for you when you need me" but when we need you where are you exactly? Why can't you be found? And when you are found why is just a prayer supposed to keep us? Why when we come to you the bare minimum is done to help us just to get us away, but when we're lying in that hospital bed, or yet, lying on the floor dead that's when effort wants to be given.
Should've, could've, would've but you didn't. The signs where there yet now you wish there was something you could've done. And there was. You just didn't listen.
You noticed when drinking became nightly instead of every weekend, when it became 5 glasses instead of 2 but you just figured they became an alcoholic suddenly and they should get help for that but didn't dig into why they became an alcoholic. You noticed it went from marijuana here and there then they became addicted to crack cocaine and meth and they should get help for that but didn't wonder why the addiction came about. You noticed their one partner turned into what seemed to be a new partner every night and the only way they could even enjoy the sex was if they were drunk or high, or even both, and that they needed help for that but never asked why they indulged so much sexually and only when they're inebriated.
It's usually there. Some of us are good at hiding it though because we already have it set in our minds no one cares anyway so what's the point? I've been figuring it out this long I'll find a way to continue. But others, these are signs of cries for help. Sometimes we want help and just don't know how to go about it and so we act out in hopes someone notices but when you don't. When no matter how loud we scream. How many tears we shed. How many self harm scars we have. How many sad tweets and Instagram posts there are. When all of that is visible and it's still not noticed, the only solution we can think of is to become invisible.
"It's not the load that breaks you down, it's the way you carry it."
- Lena Horne
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