Dear (Depressed) Black Boy…

We had toiled over his missing assignments for several weeks with very little progress. Every conversation concluded with promises that never came to fruition, but I was being extra patient because I could see that he was earnestly trying and really wanted to get the work done. Something was happening, however, that just wouldn’t allow him to do it, and at first I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

One particular day, out of concern rather than frustration, I stopped the session, sensing that we weren’t going to get much further. I looked at him—exhausted, sluggish, slumped—recalling that he often dragged himself into the room (late, of course) as if it took everything in him to find the motivation to come class. This wasn’t cool pose, and it wasn’t dismissive disinterest, it was something else. In the quietness of that empty classroom with desks and chairs strewn about and thick unease filling the air, he came into focus a little bit more, and I saw the problem.

“I want to ask you a question,” I said. “And I hope you don’t take offense to this. Please know that I’m coming from a good place and asking out of genuine concern for your well-being.”

I was a bit nervous about asking because I didn’t want to cross the boundaries of professionalism or his own in any way, but I knew I would be doing the job and the student a disservice if I pretended things would somehow magically just work themselves out, or if I wrote it off as something he just had to work through.

He sat there, eyes averted to the floor, waiting for the question, body language suggesting a deep feeling of defeat.

“… Are you depressed?” I asked.

And when I did, he lifted his head a bit and a tiny light popped on in his eyes. After a brief pause, he quietly answered, “Yes,” then shared that no one had ever asked before and that in times past it had been worse, but that semester he just couldn’t seem to get it together. We talked about it a while and, of course, I encouraged him to take advantage of the university’s counseling services, impressing upon him the importance of being proactive when it comes to mental health. I also made it clear that I understood and would be a source of support. He was grateful and I was glad to finally know what we were up against.

Knowing this information allowed me to structure a different kind of success plan for him that took his current non-academic challenges into consideration. He is, after all, a whole person, not just a student. We still struggled to get through the semester, but at least now he understood what was standing in his way and could start doing something about it.

Over the years, I’ve seen countless students pass through my classrooms with mental health challenges. Predominantly, depression and anxiety prove to be leaders of the pack these days and I think the current ethos and values of our society certainly don’t do students any favors in this regard. According to recent statistics¹, “Black and Latinx children [are] about 14% less likely than White youth to receive treatment for their depression.” Additionally, “[i]n 2018, a study found that the suicide rate of Black children 5 to 12 was nearly twice that of White children of the same age.” RTOR.org also reports that “In 2019, suicide was the second leading cause of death for Black or African Americans, ages 15 to 24,” and “[s]elf-reported suicide attempts rose nearly 80% among Black adolescents from 1991 to 2019, while the prevalence of attempts did not change significantly among those of other races and ethnicities.”

These statistics are astonishing, but not surprising given that our students and children are confronted every day by stressors past generations weren’t really up against. Things like social media and other new technologies make it easier for them to be blind-sided by the consequences that accompany those enticing innovations—overstimulation, overexposure, constant comparison, body image issues, hateful rhetorics, bullying, etc. For everything good technology offers us, it also tends to take some things away. Thus, the mental health of students is an increasingly greater concern for teachers and parents because these factors impact their ability to thrive and learn. For college students, being thrust into new levels of independence with a million decisions to make and very little confidence in their ability to make them in the absence of guidance and information is often a big factor in the exacerbation of mental health related issues as well. It should also be considered that students bring past traumas and histories with them that impact their mental, social and academic experiences.

I am careful not to probe or overstep boundaries. This incident is the only time I’ve ever had to ask a student “the question” because usually they self-identify when I assign personal narrative essay—no matter what prompt I give. I have tried to design assignments that would steer them away from any triggers or sensitive information, but inevitably they find a way to work it in. I’ve learned over the years that this is usually a sign that they need and are search for space to say “it.” It can also mean they feel safe. I don’t question it anymore, I just do my best to protect whatever the students and whatever they produce.

This particular situation hit differently. Knowing how difficult it can be—especially for black male students—to speak up about their emotional needs, it was important to me to let him know that it’s really alright to not be alright. I saw the student a few days ago—smiling, thriving, and doing much better after a summer of rest. It made me want to send a message to all the student’s whose names I may never know, who feel the heel of depression pressing their necks as they go about the business of trying to learn, live, and build a future for themselves. So here it is …

Dear (Depressed) Black Boy,

YOU especially … because I know the world only built spaces of expression for you in the back of the classroom.

You with the earbuds in—checked out because you’re afraid to say you don’t know how to check in.

You with all the jokes and pretend mirth, laughing to keep from crying—still somewhat function in the deep dark mire of your private dysfunction.

You with questions you don’t know how to ask because you’re afraid to let anyone know that you don’t know the answers.

You who have fought your way through masculinity and ideals of manhood that told you boys don’t cry—they do.

You who sometimes feels overwhelmed and swallowed up by unexplainable fear and worry, with no one to tell you that you don’t have to be.

Someone sees you. Some cares. Someone understands your struggle.

I have been where you are, except, back when I was a student, people didn’t talk about depression. I had honestly never heard of it and had no idea that I was experiencing it. I hid myself, the same way I see you hiding, because it was easier than trying to explain it—especially in a world where everyone expects you to be strong and people rarely seem to acknowledge that you actually have feelings. I struggled through it for quite a long time, so I know what it’s like.

No one asked the question back then, but I have asked you now, and somehow you found the courage to say the word. So I want to share a few things with you:

1. Feelings don’t make you weak, they make you human. Above all the things you are and all that people expect you to be, know that you are human first and in your humanity you don’t have to ask anyone for permission to express what you feel, or that you are struggling. Everywhere you are, you belong. You don’t need permission to take up space, you have the right … and the freedom, if you want it. The world will tell us that feelings are unreliable, unstable, unpredictable, and not to be trusted—unimportant. But that is a lie. Sometimes your feelings are your body’s way of telling you that something between the world within and the world without is out of alignment; that you need to change your conditions to change your condition. Sometimes feelings are the crumbs of undigested moments we have not yet wiped from the serving table of our experiences. And sometimes feelings just are. But whether anyone tells you this or not, every man has them, and every man journeys through an infinite litany of internal turnings and unsettled moments; YOU ARE NOT ALONE. “Manhood” and “Masculinity” are often quiet communities for the silently suffering. Free yourself from whatever holds you back from happiness. JUST BE YOU … in the fullness of yourself, unabated and held back by nothing. Your feelings matter.
2. One of my favorite authors—Audre Lorde—once said, “Your silence will not protect you.” I have tried to live by that, knowing how profoundly true it is. Silence, whether it’s because we are afraid, because we don’t want to be a bother, or because we simply don’t have the language to eloquently explain ourselves, can be our worst enemy. It doesn’t protect us the way we think, it only prolongs the suppression of our potential for happiness. Time doesn’t heal our wounds, proper care does—even the wounds of the spirit and the mind. So find yourself searching every day for proper care. You cannot ignore it. You cannot self-medicate it. You cannot transmute it to an “I’m alright” performance. Inevitably, we must confront ourselves out loud; we must find the language and the voice that allows us to disturb the peace of a world that does not see us. Make them see. Make them hear you. Tell them you hurt just like everyone else.
3. It gets better. Muster the strength to tell yourself that life is about building; that you are an architect, and every decision you make (or don’t make) shapes your construction. Right now you are faced with a lot of building material and a lot of decisions. You are capable and equipped to take what you’ve been given and use it—all of it, even the bad—to construct a formidable version of the life you want to live.
4. Remind yourself that if, as it has been said, the truth sets us free, then lies often keep us bound and confined. Root out the truths of you, because not everything we believe about ourselves or our lives is truth. A lot of it can simply be convenient lies that are easier to believe than the truth of possibilities we may never have been witness to. But the world is bigger than your past and your experiences. You are NOT alone. Help IS available. You were NOT meant to suffer in silence. There ARE options for care and support. People DO care. This is NOT the end.
5. Tears don’t undermine your manhood.

In Loving Support,

Your Professor

1. Leblanc, Danielle. “Black Indigenous and People of Color (BIPOC) Mental Health Fact Sheet.” RTOR.ORG. https://www.rtor.org/bipoc-mental-health-equity-fact-sheet/?utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=247031894&utm_content=136034655073&utm_term=black%20mental%20health&gad_source=1&gclid=Cj0KCQjwiuC2BhDSARIsALOVfBIBsnFSBgo-MKIUOHQXW50y4FJWGL-iQUwutB7Gpu6SCUummPIKk7YaAjqVEALw_wcB ↩︎