Black Experts Address Racial Trauma and Mental Health Equity

Though few in number, Black voices at a recent mental health conference articulated the unique challenges and systemic inequities impacting the well-being of their communities and emphasizing the critical need for culturally informed care and advocacy.

NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) California hosted its annual gathering last week at the Sheraton Grand. Speakers shared their experiences as mental health providers and as individuals with personal histories with mental illness.

Some, such as licensed marriage and family therapist Travis Nelson, shared how their lived experiences helped shape their desire to aid others in navigating their own journeys.

“Everybody’s got their story,” Nelson said. “How are we going to teach people something that we don’t know ourselves?”

Nelson is a father to two sons, a former basketball coach and retired Army officer.

“I went to war and dealt with divorce. I had to go through a lot of mental health treatment myself,” he continued.

Growing up in Oakland, Nelson’s mother kept him away from the drama and trauma that befalls many Black men in the Bay Area city. He wasn’t able to keep his own sons completely away from violence.

“In one year, one of them had seven friends that were shot,” Nelson said. “He’s still going through therapy.”

Nelson splits his time between maintaining a private practice and working at a local hospital, determining if patients meet the criteria for a 72-hour involuntary psychiatric hold, also known as a 5150. Nelson also counters community stigma though Cut to the Chase mental health support groups held at local barbershops and hair salons. The sessions were birthed out of the Greater Sacramento Urban League’s efforts to address the taboo nature of mental illness in the Black community.

Host Ronnie Cobb credited the growth of the shop sessions to their relatability.

“We meet them where they are,” Cobb said. “We pick topics like how to deal with not having a father. What do you do if their finances aren’t meeting their ends, the stress of trying to participate in Christmas and you don’t have anything else to give or just looking in the mirror saying, ‘Who is this that I’m hiding behind the mask?’ and ‘Who do I pretend to be to make everybody else think I’m OK?’”

Hosting the Crown Edition sessions for women has allowed Mia’sha Helton, owner of It’s My Hair in Natomas, to transition her business into a “wellness-centered salon.” Holding space for mental wellness also has opened the door to wider focus on health and other chronic diseases impacting the Black community, including hypertension.

“We’re using it through the vehicle of hair, but it’s so much greater than that,” Helton said.

She and her business partner have become certified health coaches and now have the ability to take clients’ blood pressure at the salon and connect them to much-needed follow-up.

“We have access to a doctor, pharmacist as well as a coordinator,” Helton said. “Whether you have insurance or not, they offer hypertension treatment.”

Advocating for Black mental wellness often means traversing in uncharted spaces.

“The people that provide the help or services don’t look like people that need it,” Nelson stated simply.

A lack of diversity has a direct result in the lack of equity, said NAMI Contra Costa CEO Gigi Crowder. 

“I name all the areas in Contra Costa County where African American males in particular are not getting the best outcomes, but they’re not on any of these committees. That’s probably true for many of our other county committees,” Crowder said. “The challenges that we face [with mental health] will be there until we have more Black males coming together in every county and saying, ‘See us.’ And it’s not just going to be them. It has to be the people in decision-making bodies going to find them too.”

Crowder unapologetically provides space for Black men, despite politics and pushback.

“If you look through our NAMI system, there’s not a lot of Black leaders who’re going to speak out. You carry so much more peace in the world when you don’t give a damn about what people think about you. It just frees you,” she said.

Crowder works to educate Black men to advocate for themselves at higher levels. That includes preparing them to speak at public hearings and even run for office.

“Sometimes it can be overwhelming for people to walk into a space where they feel unwanted and unwelcome. They have to carry the skill set,” she said. “We’re going to teach them about the Brown Act, Robert’s Rule of Order and all the skills that they need to carry in order to actively participate.”

Crowder led a conference session titled “Lifting Up the Voice of Those Most Harmed, the Black Male.” Among those sharing their journeys publicly was NAMI Sacramento liaison Mykel Gayent.

“I’ve had substance abuse issues. I’ve had mental health issues that I didn’t even know about,” Grant said. “All I knew was that something was wrong and I would have to grab a drink and fix it.”

Grant’s psychiatrist initially cautioned him against speaking openly about his mental health status.

“Once I got that diagnosis, I started telling everybody,” he said. “I went out the door, saying, ‘I’m in rehab.’ I told everybody because I felt free.”

“Black male voices are important because we are solely able to speak to our lived experience,” said Daryl Graves, a NAMI Contra Costa board member.

Graves remembered being pulled over by police in Walnut Creek 20 years ago.

“I have always been taught to respect law enforcement, to say ‘Yes, sir; no, sir’ when I’m pulled over. I was pulled over for a traffic stop. [This was] in the middle of the day. I didn’t have tinted windows and there were no crazy smells coming out of the car.”

Such reasons often are used by officers to justify racially profiling or harming Black motorists.

“I was pulled out of the car at gunpoint and sat on the curb,” Graves continued. “There’s this effect called weathering. Furniture starts off beautiful, but over time, it ages and it looks weathered. … In this case, weathering could be that traffic stop I had. I was handcuffed, but I didn’t get arrested. Most people say, ‘What’s the big deal?’ But I’m being weathered over time and that’s trauma over time. Now when I get pulled over, I’m tripping out.”

Culturally competent care won’t always mean one gets a therapist or other mental health provider who looks like them. Graves urges providers to be mindful of their Black clientele’s experiences.

“Anyone who’s been in a situation where they’ve been marginalized or made to feel like an ‘other,’ it’s important to hear that voice so that you can understand what that person is experiencing, so they can advocate for themselves and others like them,” he said.

Conference speakers shared a unifying message about the importance of collaboration.

“There’s power in partnership,” Helton said. 

Cobb said that’s especially true in the current climate of widespread layoffs and federal funding cuts to vital public health services, particularly those that were addressing disproportionality in communities of color. 

“There are not enough arms for all the needs,” Cobb said. “It takes all of us.”

“It’s a heavy burden to carry when you’re doing this work,” Crowder added. “The champions and the allies that we have make you breathe easier. Literally, I would have left NAMI a long time ago if I was doing any of the work I’m doing by myself.”

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