In a candid discussion, Dr. Sandra Banjoko unpacked the complex issues surrounding mental health in the Black community. From addressing the lingering stigma around seeking support to exploring how systemic racism and socioeconomic disparities impact wellbeing, this conversation offers invaluable insights for universities, healthcare providers, and the broader public looking to better understand and support the mental health needs of the community at large.
How do Black students respond to discussions about mental health and trauma, and then how can universities support them better?
It varies from gender to gender and then the age group. I think generational things play a role in how they take in the information, make sense of it, and practice it. But in general, it's very interesting. I think there is this underlying knowledge of like, Did I put this of the struggle of being Black in America? I think they all can speak to it to some level. But I think what I love about the work that I do and in the conversations that I engage with them, in the topic, especially about mental health, is getting them to understand the nuances and recognizing that even within the Black struggle, there is still privilege. And what does your privilege look like within your story? And so yes, we could come and be like, well, you know, as a Black man, and all the things I struggle with, and all the things I face, and those things are true. What parts of your story, your experience, and your culture give you a sense of privilege and allow you to move in the world and occupy spaces in a way that is unique to you? Because of those things, how can you give back? How do you serve? How do you show up when you eventually become a mental health provider in a way that is so nuanced, so particular, but also so open and engaging, and you in your special way, get to be another individual that can also further and expand the idea of mental health in our communities as well.
We both know that there are stigmas around mental health in the Black community. How does that stigma affect people seeking help? What do you think can be done to break down some of those mental barriers in our community that lead to how we feel about mental health?
It's hard to embrace something you don't understand. I am very privileged because of my level of education and all that. So of course, I see this differently. I do recognize that even as I engage with my clients and as I have conversations in the community, and not just in the US, but internationally as well, there is the fear of the unknown and the fear of what you don't understand. Depending on how you have been exposed to the idea of mental health or therapy, they’re coming into the conversation with a bias already. So I believe that, as a professional in the field, my utmost goal when working with people within the Black community is educating them on what therapy is and what mental health looks like. The idea of someone being struggling with depression doesn't mean that they can't function. Someone being asked to be on medication to support their treatment doesn't mean you're weak or a failure or you can't do the things. Depending on the culture you come from, there is this idea that you're supposed to pick yourself up. I think it's also recognizing that mental health and God, or the higher power or whatever divinity that one worships can both coexist. I think it's really about the miseducation of mental health.
Life is hard, and different people deal with life in different ways, so it'll be inappropriate for me to compare you to the other person who went through the same thing, but maybe handled it differently. I wish as a community, we had more grace for the fact that everyone struggles differently, and just because my struggle doesn't look like their struggle doesn't make my struggle any less worthy. I could see all the things, and I can give free therapy, and I can teach my students and do all the great stuff, but at the end of the day, it comes down to being afraid of what we don't understand.
How do things like racism and socioeconomic disparities affect mental health?
I think something to recognize is that for every Black story that we listen to or engage with, there was a whole life before that story. Since every story is just a continuation of the stories that have gone before, depending on the level of trauma and other things that you have inherited from the people that have gone before you, they will, unfortunately, show up in the present. It's our job to look at the things that have gone on before us, and be like, okay, based on the information I have today, what does it look like to move forward? How can I move one step above those that have gone before me? I think that's just the whole experience for every human, especially in the Black narrative, because when you think about systemic oppression, we're talking about generations that have gone through some level of slavery, of rape, of Jim Crow, of being lynched for no reason, and living a life in total fear, while having to engage in life at the same time. Depending on if you're from the continent or the Caribbean, you're also inheriting things. For the African experience coming from having generations before you that knew what it was like to have a land, then having the colonizers come in and take that land from you, and make you work and live in the land that is yours, but give up all your fruits to them. So all these little bits of the stories that have gone before us show up in the story that we currently live in, in a way. Unfortunately, we're just trying to do better than the generation before us.
But we cannot deny that what has happened before us shows up today, and when we think about socioeconomic status, all the things that we mentioned also affect the resources that are available to us. We know of redlining and things that happen with how urban developments are planned. Depending on what community you're in, decides the available resources. Are you a food desert? Are you not? If I’m struggling to get food on the table, I'm not talking to you about feelings. Are you kidding me? I'm trying to be fed. These things play a role in how you can even look at mental health. That's why it doesn't surprise me sometimes when I have conversations with people in our community where they're like, “You do a white person's job for a living. What a privilege." If you're somebody who's just trying to survive and just have your basic needs met, mental health seems like a luxury. To a certain degree, to be very honest with you, it is. But it can still be helpful. But again, it's how we share. It is how we advertise. It is about how we let other people know that different ways can be accessible. Some different projects and grants and clinics have opened up and popped up in different places that are providing some form of mental health to the community, but it would be inappropriate for me to also not recognize that accessing mental health with all these other limitations that an individual may face, does seem like a luxurious thing to get.
One of the classes that you teach deals with abuse. When looking at issues of abuse, are there any cultural or familial dynamics in the Black community that you have to consider when you're looking at interventions?
I just want to say that I recognize that Black people are not a monolith, and there's diversity within diversity. All of these are, of course, generalizations based on data that have been published over the years. But I do know that depending on your data source. We do know for a fact that within the Black community, there tend to be high rates of domestic violence. In terms of physical and emotional abuse, I think a big part is our culture of secrecy. There's one thing to be private, there's another thing to be secretive. When we're talking about privacy, there are some things within the relationship that you know should keep to yourself. You don't want to tell everybody all the stuff. Secrecy goes a step further, where it's that now for the sake of the unit or the couple or the family. We don't snitch. We don't give out stuff. You don't do things like that. And depending on the dynamics in which you're in, it keeps us even more stuck in an abusive cycle. Our community has the mentality of keeping things at home and not telling people what's going on. Family stuff is family stuff.
This is compounded with the culture of over sexualization. The culture around us sexualizes Black women, on top of Black boys and Black girls at risk of being abused. We've seen the cases. We see the numbers, and I guess it's just the idea of the secrecy that is keeping us stuck. We're so big on keeping the community together that sometimes it’s at the risk of somebody else's life.
We don't take mental health issues seriously, so a kid telling their parent they’re depressed is just whatever. We don't talk about mental health issues. We don't take it seriously. If we take it seriously, we believe Jesus can fix it, and that's it. We don't need anybody else. We don't trust each other. We don't believe that other people have our best interests at heart. We have all these things going against us, plus the layer of keeping everything in the house. When you think about the level of distrust and suffering and the consequences of trusting people in the past and where it's brought us, it makes sense. Of course, we have to consider the American medical culture in the past and how it has also done Black people wrong on so many levels. So our distrust of the system makes sense, but our distrust of ourselves is also hurting us as well.