On tWitch, Trauma, and Being a Black Man in Peril

Image description: a picture of Stephen "tWitch" Boss. He is wearing a yellow beanie and a red and green plaid shirt with rolled sleeves. He is smiling at the viewer.

TW: Discussion around suicide and Black trauma.

With the passing of Stephen "tWitch" Boss, I found myself thinking again this morning about the weight many Black men carry in their brains and bodies.

I think about depression, anxiety, and how Black men and Black bodies have been conditioned to "just deal." In concept and conversation, I'm reflecting on the taboo treatment of mental health in many Black communities. I'm thinking of how my family scoffed at me when I brought up my struggles with depression as a teenager and adult. I think about how I was a functional alcoholic from 15 to my early twenties to dull the pain of feeling inadequate and unable to help my family rise from poverty. I look back on how my family and parents reacted when I mentioned one or all of my siblings possibly struggling with depression and anxiety. I find myself in my teens again, watching my father block out his depression and childhood trauma with gambling and alcohol. I reflect on how my father was in a near-constant state of unhappiness for most of my childhood and adult life and finding out about his decades of drug abuse a few years ago. And while mulling over all of these things, I can't help but wonder how many Black men might still be here if our community cultures didn't deter Black men from being vulnerable and more open to taking care of themselves and asking for help.

I wish being a Black man could include being a human being grappling with your trauma and emotions and seeking help and support from other Black people without being looked down on and being called a "sissy" or "punk."

I wish being a Black man didn't come with the spoken and unspoken shackles of "just deal" ideologies.

I wish being a Black man came with the option to believe in self-care and therapy and talk about it out loud to show other Black men, Black people, that you don't have to be afraid of being a multi-layered being.

I wish being a Black man didn't come with so many ingrained and societally-driven ways to die.

To my fellow Black men: it's OK not to be OK. It's OK not to "be hard" and walk around with a facade masking your pain and trauma. It's OK to ask for help. It's OK to prioritize your mental and emotional health. It's OK to be vulnerable and open and honest. It's OK to believe that you deserve to feel better because you do deserve it.

If you need help, please do not hesitate to seek help. Go to https://www.sprc.org/populations/blacks-african-americans for resources and information. Call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-TALK (8255) or text the Crisis Text Line at 741741. Find a Black therapist in your area at https://www.psychologytoday.com/us and schedule an appointment as soon as possible. Get the help you deserve. Your life and health matter.

Black Mental Health Matters.

Rest well, tWitch. Rest well.

[Image description: a picture of Stephen "tWitch" Boss. He is wearing a yellow beanie and a red and green plaid shirt with rolled sleeves. He is smiling at the viewer.]

A Shout-Out To My Homie, Therapy

I want to take a moment to give a huge shout-out to my homie and road dog, therapy. Good lookin' out, homie!

Real talk? I've been having a difficult last few months. A difficult 2021, to be honest. White supremacy and racism have been beating me down after years of doing the bare minimum to take care of myself mentally, emotionally, and physically. Working in white supremacist workplace cultures trying to push for meaningful and deep long-term work had taken its toll on me. By the summer of this year, I was drained. I found myself falling into old patterns of wanting to overdo it, fight harder, with no support system in place in the workplace in the face of white fragility and white violence. I saw my feelings of failure and blaming myself for why things aren't moving forward reacquaint themselves in my life as a familiar albatross on my neck after countless years of fighting it off. I felt like I wasn't of any help to anyone with melanated skin. It took some hard conversations with myself to realize that I had to stop thinking that I had all the answers and that I could "fix it on my own" and finally seek therapy from a Black therapist, someone who would understand me and the complexities of being Black. And honestly?

I cannot hammer home how essential the need for therapy for Black folx, for people of color, is y'all.

Therapy has helped me be firmer with my boundaries than ever before. It's allowed me the space to truly think about embracing joy and engaging in mindfulness and self-care in better ways. It's given me an increasingly important set of tools to center myself in the face of whiteness and oppression. Most importantly, I feel like the weights that have been on my ankles for years are finally unshackled. I feel more and more mentally and emotionally free with each passing session. I have a new focus on my personal and professional goals and now believe more than ever that I can attain those goals.

If you're Black, if you're a person of color, and you're struggling right now please know that you're not alone. If you are privileged to be able to do so, please use sites like Clinicians of Color to find a therapist of color in your area and get the support and validation you deserve. Prioritize yourself. You can't help anyone if you aren't willing to help yourself.

https://www.cliniciansofcolor.org/