The headline is as jarring as it is painful. In an essay entitled Mental Health in Black Communities: Challenges, Resources, Community Voices, the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), the leading grassroots organization on Black mental health, shared:
63% of African Americans currently believe mental health conditions indicate weakness.
Read: Religion can distort our mental well-being.
The aforementioned statistical fact is no anomaly. Although the polling does not indicate it, I believe it is just as evident in the Black faith community as it is in the general public. The logic is simple. Black people are the most religious ethnic group in America, according to Pew Research. We lead in weekly church attendance. We read our Bibles and pray more than any other group in America.
It stands to reason, then, that the Black religious experience is culturally and religiously aligned with the 63% of those who believe mental health conditions indicate weakness.
So, on any given Sunday, a pastor or layperson will mount the rostrum of any given Black church in America to an audience of which roughly one in every three persons believe if that they acknowledge a mental health condition - no matter how painfully evident such a condition portends - it points to personal weakness.
In light of this, what is the gospel of Jesus Christ in this situation and how do we apply it to this reality?
Scripture says,
"For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline." II Timothy 1:7 (NIV).
How, then, do we account for such a disparity between our actions and what God's word commands? It is easy to point to a shallow spiritual evocation and suggest that most worshippers simply do not practice what they profess.
Mental illness, though, touches us at the point of feelings, mood and behavior.
But a deeper analysis will point to the rampant social conditioning that has shackled Africans in America since our arrival upon these shores in 1619. It's called "bear up".
Let's be frank: slavery and its resultant racist aftermath has done a number on us mentally - both collectively and individually - through our psychological and emotional (and I'd even argue spiritual) gene pool.
Our "survival at all costs" mentality - where we remain staunch, confident and strong in the face of severe adversity - has produced the very effects it seeks to avoid: depression, suicide ideation and a sense of loneliness.
Black men lead in attempted suicides and report greater suicidal ideation than Black women.
Dr. Ruth White of USC's Suzanne Dworak-Peck's School of Social Work opines:
"A widespread survivalist mentality was borne from slavery and racism which oppressed Black citizens into silence; now, trying to raise mental health with African Americans may be taken as an affront to their survivability, as they have survived so much adversity and now someone is going to say there is something wrong with us."
Read: Don't call me "crazy"!
Back to the question. How does Black clergy minister to this bewildering circumstance? How do we convince the sixty-three percent of our congregants who occupy our pews each Sunday that they are not "weak" for getting the help they may desperately need?
We must ingrain this hermeneutical principle:
Seeking mental health treatment as a believer is a sign that your faith is strong.
This hermeneutic is guided by one thing: God's Spirit. (II Timothy 1:7)
It's a tough call for any member of Black clergy, but there are signs that this conversation is beginning. More and more are beginning to speak about the need for mental therapy and urging members not to be ashamed of it. A leading Black church in Phoenix includes a 'Mental Health Moment' in its video announcements.
This is good news; it may at some point usher us from "don't call me crazy" to "call me strong for seeking help".
Pastor W. Eric Croomes is a faith influencer and believer's coach. Contact Pastor C at: info@pastorwericcroomes.com or visit www.pastorwericcroomes.com
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