Normalizing Black Men’s Mental Health, One Story At A Time

By Sterling Davies | OBSERVER Staff Writer

For Terry Sharp, growing up in Queensbridge, New York in one of the nation’s largest housing projects – surrounded by domestic abuse, gun violence, and drug use – the door seemed closed on discussing the negative impact his environment was having on his mental health.

Although Sharp, now 34, knew from a young age that he struggled with depression, there was never a moment to stop and process the cause and the weight of it all. “I always dealt with feeling like there was something wrong with me or like I’m not enough,” he said. “I just didn’t know how to address it.”

Sharp moved to Sacramento in 2018, and his depression persisted. It wasn’t until he faced an all-time low that his approach to life shifted. In October 2022, Sharp was shot multiple times by police officers and was incarcerated for six months.

“They took money, they took my car. I couldn’t get the keys to my house,” Sharp said. I literally came out of jail with the clothes I wore in the hospital.”

Sharp’s story mirrors the mental health struggles of Black men across the nation. As of 2024, suicide is the second-largest cause of death for Black men between the ages of 15 and 24. And suicide rates for Black men are four times higher than for Black women.

Many African Americans, including Sharp, gathered June 29 at The OBSERVER’s “It’s OK Brotha” Mental Health and Resource Fair in Oak Park to discuss resources and advice surrounding Black men’s mental health. Throughout the event, men of color across different ages and backgrounds shared their mental health journeys, shedding light on the highs and lows.

Many African Americans, gathered June 29 at The OBSERVER’s “It’s OK Brotha” Mental Health and Resource Fair in Oak Park to discuss resources and advice surrounding Black men’s mental health. Throughout the event, men of color across different ages and backgrounds shared their mental health journeys, shedding light on the highs and lows.

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The event, organized by The OBSERVER in support of Senior Staff Writer Genoa Barrow’s Head Space series, was supported by The County of Sacramento and the USC Annenberg Center for Health Journalism. The series featured more than 30 stories addressing the mental health needs of Black men. Several of the men featured in the series participated in the event, including social worker LaVontae Hill, local activist Stevante Clark, Jabari Rahotep and others.

The rise in suicide and mental illness underscores the need for Black men to join the discussion on declining mental health as a first step towards minimizing the deadly consequences.

Within the African American community, Black men often feel pressured to suppress their emotions and remain “stone-faced” as Cameron Sykes, 34, puts it. Sykes, a member of Stop Stigma Sacramento, a county-funded mental health initiative, spoke at the event on how older generations of Black men have passed down the notion of needing to withhold emotion, whether positive or negative, closing the conversation on mental health altogether.

“When I was young, [mental health] wasn’t really emphasized at all,” Sykes said. “We were actually encouraged to not talk about it, whether it was our fathers or coaches or something like that.”

For Black men, exposing feelings of despair can be viewed as weakness and call into question their manhood, Sykes said. Oftentimes, suppressing emotions leads to suppressing childhood struggles, creating larger issues down the road.

“It’s a different trauma for Black children,” Sykes added. “Growing up in underfunded neighborhoods, we’re shown stuff that we’re not supposed to see … having absent family members, having brothers or sisters shot. Those are the types of things that we see in the Black community far more than you see in other community groups.”

Struggling with trauma internally can naturally lead to mental illness. Suppressing emotions, however, is often interpreted as being resilient, especially within the Black community. This creates a harmful representation of resilience, which more and more voices hope to rewrite.

Paul Moore, the partnership development manager for ONTRACK Program Resources, a nonprofit dedicated to improving services for diverse communities, spoke at the resource fair about his mental health journey. Moore, 60, developed anxiety after incarceration due to substance use. “I think a lot of people who were in jail develop some form of anxiety because you’re constantly looking over your shoulder, and that continues once you’re out,” he said.

Moving forward was a matter of being strong enough to reach his goals without distractions, Moore said. “I don’t quit, and nothing was going to get in the way of me wanting to help others with their mental health, so I became resilient enough to push past the distractions.”

That resilience led Moore to share his struggles with anxiety and help others do the same. He now facilitates ONTRACK’s support group for Black men and continues to voice the importance of normalizing discussions on mental health.

The event also brought various speakers who highlighted the necessity of Black-focused spaces for African American men to gather and feel a sense of understanding.

Brothers Marichal and Rodney Brown spoke to share how they use their barbershop as a place for young Black men to feel comfortable and open up about themselves and their mental health.

Marichal and Rodney Brown shared their unique approach to mental health by offering free therapy sessions while cutting clients’ hair at their shop, Hairitage Barber Shop. This initiative was showcased during The Sacramento Observer’s ‘It’s Ok Brotha: Black Men’s Mental Health & Resource Fair’ held at the Oak Park Community Center on Saturday, June 29, 2024. (Photo by Madelaine Church)

The Browns, owners of HAIRitage Barbershop on Broadway and partners of The Confess Project of America, were “raised in a barbershop.” Their father was a barber and owned a shop in Sacramento. They grew up seeing how barbershops serve as a space for “Black men to come and have conversation away from society,” Marichal, 59, explained. “When you’re amongst your people, you can kind of relax.”

When the Browns took over their father’s business and later opened their own barbershop, they continued to reinforce this idea and created a space where young Black men could learn from the experiences of people they relate to. Instead of turning to social media or relying on their own thoughts, they hope more young adults can open up to barbers and mentors who understand them, but more importantly, want to help.

For Black teenagers finding the right person to talk to becomes increasingly essential, but also increasingly difficult. Lorreen Pryor, Brandon Trowel, Carlos Simpson Jr., Fxxi Irvin, and Da’Monik Millan of the Black Youth Leadership Project spoke at the resource fair. During their panel, they discussed how many traditional institutions and safe havens, such as schools and homes, lack people who are willing to talk and listen to those who need help, which leaves children to deal with issues on their own.

“Kids left to their own devices don’t always yield positive results,” Trowel explained. “We need to do our part as elders to make sure we get our kids to these safe spaces where positive growth can be encouraged … that they have a community of Black men who were once Black boys that they can rely upon.”

When there are more opportunities for African American men to find someone to talk to, whether it be in a private or group conversation, it normalizes mental health discussions for Black men and allows young adults to discover the form of help that works best for them.

“I don’t think there’s a one-stop-fits-all type of thing,” said Pryor, founder and CEO of Black Youth Leadership Project. “Everyone has to be judged on their own merits.”

As for Terry Sharp, he “created a new value system” for himself, and has since begun helping formerly incarcerated men find stable resources, jobs, and housing. “I just had to really dig and find myself within,” he said.