I feel honored to participate in this year's One Minute for Mental Health campaign as part of Mental Health Awareness Month!

Anyone who knows me personally or follows my work knows how much mental health is a central part of my life. I feel fortunate to have the opportunity to share that message within this platform.

Thank you to Lizzie Schooler and Reggie Wideman for the opportunity to talk about something many of us grapple with and encounter daily: feeling like we have to say we're OK when we're far from it.

Please feel free to share your thoughts below. Let's talk about it!

A Message to Black Professionals and Working Folx During a Moment of Trauma

TW: Murder, trauma, police brutality, and anti-Blackness.

Black professionals and working folx: it's OK not to be OK. I don't care what your employer says or how they feel about you needing time to grieve and heal after another high-profile murder of a Black man by the white supremacist system of policing civilians and its accompanying video footage. I hope beyond hope that you did not engage with that footage. If you did, I hope for peace for your mind, body, and soul. Regardless, you have the right to take some time today, this week, to breathe and center the health of your body and brain. You have the right to care for your mental, emotional, and physical health and navigate a new but familiar trauma this week.

F--- that spreadsheet. You matter more than anything going on at work this week.

You're experiencing the weight of a seemingly never-ending and constantly reinforced collective trauma that your ancestors endured and passed on to you through genetics. It wasn’t their fault they passed this genetic trauma on to you. They were enduring constant visceral harm that created the byproducts of familiar harm we’re enduring now. Your brain and body are exhausted. They've been exhausted because new traumas emerge every time they dive into healing traumas, and old traumas get reignited due to the explicit message that Black lives don't matter in the United States. Add to this the feeling of powerlessness that comes from watching white supremacy "empower" members of your community to wantonly harm and kill your people in the name of white supremacist ideology. That's why you feel heavy. This sh-- takes an almost immeasurable toll on our brains and bodies, and we've resigned ourselves to "pushing through it" when all we're doing is wading through quicksand with ankle weights while still processing the shackles of our ancestors. Don't "push through."

Pause.

Breathe.

It’s OK to call time out.

That meeting can be postponed.

That conference call ain't that important.

That "urgent task?" It wasn't that urgent before now, and it won't be that urgent later this week when you get to it.

Please do what you can to take care of yourselves, my people.

I wish you wellness this week in whatever form it may take.

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.]