EDUC 220
Date: July 19, 2019
Points Received: 34/35
July 9, 2013 I would receive the call that would change my life forever. “Hello Meghan,” the receptionist said, “I have called to inform you that you have been diagnosed with ADHD. You will receive a formal letter stating your diagnosis in the next few days. What time are you available next week to come in for an appointment to discuss treatment?” I was shocked yet relieved and at the same time, defeated. Having this diagnosis, I initially believed, not only help bring me clarity, but also prove to my parents that my brain works differently than theirs. Defeat because my whole life my parents inadvertently instilled in me that ADHD isn’t real. They would casually say that it is an excuse for white children to act however they want without being disciplined. Mental Health issues were made up and all I needed was Jesus to help me get through this. I began to struggle and feel ostracized with this new diagnoses. Growing up in a Black middle class family, I was always taught that I had to work twice as hard to be seen almost equal to my white counterparts. They had the opportunity to fall back on mental health issues as an excuse, but for a Black American, I would be seen as lazy and incompetent. With all of that in mind, how is one to open up to their parents about having a mental condition? Mental health in the black community is a taboo subject that is often deemed made up and nonexistent. Yet the US Department of Health and Human Services Office of Minority Health claims “African Americans are 10% more likely to report having serious psychological distress than Non-Hispanic whites” (OMH, 2017). I began to wonder why these issues are not brought up and dealt with in the Black community. As I began to navigate this new territory of my diagnosis, it dawned on me all that I was fighting against. From deeply rooted family issues, generational racial disparities, and faith in my God, these aspects have helped shape how I tackle mental health.
My mother, a Canadian-born America citizen, was raised on her family farm in Tuskegee, Alabama. Her father’s side is was well educated consisting of teachers and entrepreneurs. Her mother, on the other hand, a licensed vocational nurse, was an immigrant from Jamaica, by way of Canada. She and her siblings moved to Canada in their late teens/early twenties to seek a better life. After she met my granddad and had my mom, she moved to the United States, leaving her 4 year old daughter behind in Canada to be raised by her daughter’s father and my grandma’s siblings. To this day, the relationship with her eldest child is almost nonexistent. (I will say, I do believe my aunt had the opportunity to move to the states to be with her mother but for reasons I was not made known of, she chose to stay in Canada.) Being an immigrant, especially during the Civil RIghts Movement in the 1960’s, was not always received with open arms. Though the Immigration Act of 1965 was passed when she arrived in the states, her multiethnic and bilingual background was still shunned within the U.S. as well as her husband and his family. My mother and her siblings were not raised with their mother’s French-Jamaican background and my grandmother was forced to assimilate to American culture and neglect her own. Throughout my grandparents 27 year marriage, my mother and her siblings have often alluded to alcoholism and verbal abuse being prevalent in their home, however, it is usually overlayed with a joke. “Remember when daddy would tell mama to speak clearly because he couldn’t understand that mess she was saying?” they would recall in a laughing matter. “Y’all remember when Mike,” her younger brother, “would get a whoopin about twice a week because he forgot the trash!” These statements are said lightheartedly, yet the repercussions of the actions are still apparent in their lives. My grandfather lost his life to Type 1 Diabetes in 1992, yet the memories and thoughts of him still haunts my grandma. I will jokingly ask her “Nunuk, are you going on a date this weekend?” She will reply back with her soprano, country, Jamaican accent “Oh no! Mi never do dat again!” For my cousins and I, we are able to see how these circumstances affect us, the next generation, and how we process and deal with our parents issues that can damage our mental health. Our parents have placed their suppressed issues onto us in how they raised us. Whether that be through over controlling, anger issues, mistrust towards others, we are now having to fight through and overcome our parents’ undealt with issues. Though I never asked my Nunuk about this, I can only imagine what she has mentally fought through her whole life. She sought a better life in a foreign country, had a child, met my grandad, had my mom, then moved to the United States in the middle of the Civil Rights Movement in Alabama to marry my granddad to have 5 more children with, who ended up being verbally and possibly physically abusive. That is a lot to process, and I know she does not like to talk about it. Talking about it to her and how it has affected her makes her feel weak. She instilled values of education and success into my mom and her siblings. Even with this as her foundation, my mom went on to have a successful career as a nurse in the Army and now as a nurse educator with a Doctorate in Nursing Practice.
My dad’s side is simpler than my mom’s yet the pain still runs deep. He was raised in a small rural town of Allendale, South Carolina where his parents still live and have been married for almost 61 years. Even though both of his parents were raised in poverty, they were able to graduate from college and eventually receive their Masters degrees in education. This gave my dad the ability to continue his education at The Citadel: Military College of South Carolina, to become an officer in the US Army which led to eventually being a CEO of a multibillion dollar corporation. My paternal grandmother, a feisty, quick-witted 84 year old, was raised by her grandmother and aunts. Her mother had her mother had her young, by a man my grandma has never met. After her mother gave her up, my great-grandmother went on to marry and have about 5 more children and lived until 101 years old, never once returning to the daughter she gave up. Without ever verbalizing it, I could sense that my grandma felt neglected and abandoned because I am able to see how situations that trigger her past memories affects her today. If she ever talks about her mother, she begins to have a somber disposition. When around her, she is always correct and in control. If not she will distance herself from people and could go on without speaking to them for weeks and possibly months if allowed. As I have gotten older and began developing opinions that oppose her opinions, I’ve been able to witness this side of her. At times she will make a comment of “Meghan when will you ever grow up. You act like a kid!” without understanding the symptoms of ADHD. I am saying all of this, not to demean my grandma, but show how her deeply rooted and unhealed mental health struggles affect me, her granddaughter. As I’ve gotten older, I have only seen her cry because she felt rejected or hurt by someone accidentally doing something to her. When I asked her if she was alright and wanted to talk about, she proceeded to silently cry, walk away, and seclude herself from everyone physically, for over 5 hours. She remained emotionally secluded for few days and never talked about the situation. Aside from the inner turmoil my grandma faced, she and my grandpa laid out a foundation for my dad to excel in life. From seeing the deeply rooted issues on both sides of my family, one could ask the question, “Why have they resisted treatment?” The answer, from what I have experienced, is a 3-fold answer: it is no one business, therapists can be racist, and I have Jesus.
Black Americans have been raised in a country where their existence is built on abuse, distrust, manipulation, and fear from white people. This can make going to the doctor an impossible feat. Many are forced to break down foundational barriers, lack of access to health care from living in poverty, or not wanting people in their personal business. My family, though coming from impoverished areas, had access to health care, because of their educated backgrounds. They were not afraid to visit the doctor for a normal check up. When it comes to seeing a psychologist, however, fear begins to set in. We are taught that “no one needs to know our business” and “whatever happens in the family stays in the family”. Black Americans already had to fight against people viewing them as 3/5th of a human, they did not want to be labeled as delusional to their own race. So pride made its place in the home, people kept their mouths shut, and generations of mental issues were passed down. With having this generational stigma of mental health, could be an explanation why Blacks “are more likely to have feelings of sadness, hopelessness, and worthlessness than are adult whites.” (OMH, 2017). In the article “African American Men and Women's Attitude Toward Mental Illness, Perceptions of Stigma, and Preferred Coping Behaviors” 63% of of Black Americans believed depression to be a personal weakness and that mental health problems could improve on their own (Ward, 2014). This means that depression is just a mindset and has nothing to do with circumstances or environment that has aided in creating the depression. It was also shown in the article that older generations were less likely to be vulnerable about mental health struggles than younger generations. It is evident within my family how the older generations, my grandparents, are less likely to share their experiences or struggles or how their upbringing negatively affects them today. They are more likely to hold onto and internalize negativity instead of expressing to someone how and why their feelings are hurt. As I see myself and how I dealt with being diagnosed with ADHD, it allowed me to open up about other mental health struggles I face because I know it is normal for a person with ADHD. Through my vulnerability in informing my parents of my ADHD, I was initially met with resistance from my mom but acceptance from my dad. Over the years I have witnessed my parents being more open and honest with me about their struggles and challenges. It has allowed us to reduce the stigma in our home and not be as afraid to let people in. We realized we would rather get the healing we deserve than live in fear of being perceived as crazy.
Another fear that strickens Black Americans from seeing a therapist is the racial and cultural disconnect. If the doctor has not lived a familiar experience, it becomes difficult to empathize with a client. For many Black Americans, the causes of their mental health issues are a direct result of the racism that plagued their communities. In the rural south, it was common for KKK leaders to also be doctors. For those individuals who had access to health care, they would not feel safe knowing their doctor was determined to end their life. For older generations, being a product of racist attacks and having their grandparents born into slavery, there is a resistance to treatment for mental health issues from a white doctor who reminds you of your family’s oppressive past. In the article “How Therapists Drive Away Minority Clients”, the author points out various instances in which therapists minimize a person’s experience and claim that their life as a certain race does not create more health problems. Therapists have made statements such as “I’m not sure we need to focus on race or culture to understand your depression.” (Psychology Today, 2013). In other words, a White therapist would deem that Black patient as being sensitive and perceiving something that doesn’t exist. The patient’s racially driven mental health issues are made up feelings. This creates an anxiety driven wall that inhibits an individual from opening up about their life of oppression that has affected them because of the racist foundations of the country they were born into. According to OMH “Black Americans living below the poverty line are three times more likely to report psychological distress than those who live above the poverty line.” (OMH, 2017). If the therapist is not able to empathize with the fears of living in an unsafe, gang-infested, working just so your children can eat, the advice of “get a better job and live in a better environment” would not resonate well. It is unfortunate that we run into circumstances as these, however, I firmly believe that without proper treatment, therapy, or a safe place for someone to discover the roots of their issues, healing cannot happen. While it is important to note that “Black Americans are 3x more likely to suffer from mental health struggles, they are 70% less likely to commit suicide than there white counterparts”. (OMH, 2017). Even though the suicide rate is far lower, there is still a substantial amount of people living hopelessly in their lives. Finding a way for people to connect with what is supposed to be their source of hope and healing, is far more challenging to find. There is a form of therapy, however, that many older generations claim to rely on: God.
Black people in older generations who grew up without access to healthcare, God was all they were able to afford as there method of peace and hope. This mentality of “God is my therapy” has been passed down to those of us who have access to quality healthcare. What I have noticed in my family, however, is God is used as a scapegoat for not wanting to be vulnerable with others. “It’s between me and God” I often hear, yet, for years, the problems do not cease, and continue to affect other people. I, on the other hand, stand firm on the importance of therapy (group, individual, or both) coupled with relying on God. The Bible even states that we must “confess [our] sins to one another and pray for one another so that [we] may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great effectiveness.” James 5:16. In essence, the bible is saying that we should rely on God along with seeking help from a physical being as another beam of support and comfort. Healing comes from believing in the power of the blood of Jesus along with having people to go to that can help you get through adversity. The purpose of the Christian church is to create a community that can function, at times, like a support group. This type of atmosphere is beneficial in creating a loving, non-judgemental, grace-filled environment that helps one another heal and focus on God. However, they tend not to be used for this purpose. At times, we still carry the “no one needs to know my business” mentality. This can make the church community and the total essence of Christianity ineffective. Since my diagnosis, I have had the opportunity to see a therapist, along with having supportive friends who I can be honest with, will pray for me and point me back to Jesus.
My ADHD diagnosed has been the greatest blessing and downfall at times. My parents both made it out of their impoverished areas, and went on to have successful careers in the respective fields, so I had no excuse other than to succeed. What I have learned over the years, however, is we often raise our children with the values we were raised with. My parents, both from working class families, raised their two middle class daughters with a working class mindset. What I am referring to is the circumstances that my parents were faced with in their work-class homes, eventually turned into insecurities that they did not want my sister and I to have to deal with in our childhood. Though we did not experience the same childhoods’ as them, the mentalities they adopted from those environments, carried on to what they impressed on us. Success was advocated, while mental health was a taboo and difficult concept for them to grasp as it was not a subject that was cultivated in their home.
My initial motivation for getting tested was to set out to prove a point to my parents that ADHD is real and that I have it. Once I was diagnosed, I felt as though I had let my family down, in the same breath, I felt as though I found myself. I felt incompetent that I was not able to use the trial and tribulations that my ancestors went through to motivate me to succeed. I also realized I had a different hurdle to jump over. Not only am I working twice as hard as a Black American to be seen equal to my white counterparts, I have to work twice as hard to be seen as normal to society. ADHD cannot be used as an excuse for Black Americans because people will still deem them as lazy and incompetent. Though my ADHD can become unbearable and make the most benign tasks seem daunting, it has given me the eyes to be empathetic and gracious towards others. Most importantly, it has given me the confidence to not be afraid to admit when something is wrong. With the help of my support system and my faith in Jesus Christ, I am able to see the importance of communicating my issues. Instead of suppressing situations, which can increase my mental health problems, I allow my vulnerability to prevent my issues from getting passed on to future generations. To me, that is success.
Sources:
Black & African American Communities and Mental Health. (2017, April 03). Retrieved from https://www.mentalhealthamerica.net/african-american-mental-health#Source 5
The Holy Bible. James 5.
Ward, E. C., Wiltshire, J. C., Detry, M. A., & Brown, R. L. (2013). African American men and women's attitude toward mental illness, perceptions of stigma, and preferred coping behaviors. Nursing Research, 62(3), 185-194.
Williams, M. T. (2013). How therapists drive away minority clients. Psychology Today.
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