Breaking Barriers: Black History Month and the Intersection of Mental Health and Substance Use Disorder

Nick Dansby, RCP • Feb 23, 2024

February marks the celebration of Black History Month, a time to recognize the invaluable contributions of African Americans throughout history and today. Beyond the achievements and milestones, it’s imperative to shed light on the intersections of mental health within the black community. First-hand experience has exposed the gaps in access to treatment. Historical adversities like slavery and systemic exclusion from leverage, equity, inclusion and basic human rights have left a lasting impact, manifesting as socio-economic disparities and barriers to mental health treatment today.


The Connection Between Black History and Mental Health:

While mental health conditions don’t discriminate based on race, the challenges of accessing adequate mental health treatment are more common for people of color, particularly African Americans. Misdiagnosis, limited access to healthcare, and the scarcity of African American mental health professionals contribute to a significant disparity in mental health outcomes. After an unprovoked assault in 2017, I was told by a therapist that I had exhibited symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). However, the follow-up, specialist referral, an official diagnosis and treatment were all lacking. 


Key Trends:

The statistics reveal a harsh reality. African American adults are 20% more likely to experience mental health issues than the rest of the population. Black young people face challenges in accessing mental health services compared to their white counterparts. Only 25% of African Americans seek treatment for mental health issues, in contrast to 40% of Caucasian individuals. Socioeconomic factors further propagate the situation, with those living below the poverty line being three times more likely to report severe psychological distress.


The Role of Stigma and Lack of Representation:

Misdiagnosis by healthcare professionals, societal stigma, and a shortage of black mental health practitioners contribute to the current plight of access to mental health resources in the black community. The underrepresentation of blacks in mental health professions, as highlighted by the statistics, creates a significant gap in culturally competent care. 6.2% of psychologists, 5.6% of advanced-practice psychiatric nurses, 12.6% of social workers, and 21.3% of psychiatrists are members of underrepresented groups. Remember my therapist who informed me about my PTSD? Well, she was also black. I’ve often wondered if she was equipped to complete a full diagnosis, with recommended treatment. Or did she face barriers in performing her professional duties? 


Paving the Way for Change:

Black History Month serves as a reminder to work continually towards breaking down those barriers for the underrepresented, ensuring equal access to mental health and substance abuse resources. Notable figures like Dr. Solomon Carter Fuller, Dr. Paul Cornely, and Mamie Phipps Clark have paved the way for equitable healthcare, making significant contributions to psychiatry, public health, and psychology, respectively.


A Call to Action:

As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. wisely stated, progress requires relentless forward movement. Beyond February, it is our collective responsibility to advocate for equal access and dismantle the barriers preventing adequate mental health care. By building awareness, supporting initiatives that promote inclusivity, and demanding change at all levels, we can contribute to a society where mental health is prioritized for everyone. And, hopefully, we may all experience a world where all voices of positive self advocacy are welcomed and encouraged. 


Sources:

Excerpts and data used from Discoverymood.com, National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), American Psychological Association,  American Psychiatric Association, and Plymouth Psych Group

Marking Women's History Month: A Reflection on Sobriety, Self-Acceptance, and Shaping My Legacy

By Nicole Benoist, CPS, CCAR • 29 Mar, 2024
As we conclude Women's History Month, I have been thinking about what being a woman means to me at this stage in life. In just a few weeks, I will (hopefully) enter my fourth year of sobriety, a journey that intersects with another milestone: my 50th birthday in November. Reflecting on the woman I have evolved into, I am at peace. The false sense of all-knowing that once dominated my youth has given way to a welcomed uncertainty. My heart is open to the possibilities that life has yet to unveil—undiscovered people, places, and experiences. The path ahead is a beautiful unknown; I'm meeting it with open arms. My sobriety has been transformative, illuminating the brighter paths in life while diminishing the darker trails. Most importantly, it has taught me that my history does not dictate my destiny. My journey through life has given me invaluable lessons about my limitations and the beauty of accepting them. The jewels of my existence—faith, family, career, a close circle of friends, and self-care—finally have the focus they deserve. Through forgiveness, I have learned to cultivate love and compassion for myself. I have discovered the strength to alter the course of my life through persistence, discipline, and patience. My spiritual connection has deepened in unimaginable ways, offering a new perspective on my relationship with God. The complex challenges of parenthood have revealed themselves as both the most demanding and rewarding endeavors of my life, underscoring the inevitability of imperfection. I've found vulnerability is not a weakness but a conduit to genuine connection, understanding, and profound love. As I navigate through life, the narrative of my personal history continues to unfold, prompting introspection about the legacy I aspire to leave behind. The impact of my place in the world becomes of utmost importance—what does legacy mean to me? This question often guides my advice to my children: "Did you leave that conversation, person, or situation better than you found it?" My ambition is that my legacy will be the sum of positive daily interactions and acts of kindness that collectively contribute to a more compassionate world. This reflection is not just a personal testament but a universal invitation to embrace the unknown with grace, to recognize the transformative power of self-acceptance, and to acknowledge the profound influence of individual actions on the fabric of our shared humanity.

Embracing Our Essence: A Women's History Month Reflection on Rediscovering and Celebrating Authentic Womanhood

By Ailish Abbate, PRC • 22 Mar, 2024
To all the women reading this, it's clear that the mantle of womanhood carries an immense burden. Our surroundings incessantly dictate the essence of being a woman, often presenting a paradox: to embody everything yet simultaneously embody the antithesis. The act of womanhood propels us far from our origins, to the extent of erasing the memory of our childhood streets. It nudges us toward oblivion, making us forget our desires, preferences, and identities. Navigating womanhood correctly seems an unattainable feat, pushing us to seek love, acceptance, and validation externally. I, too, succumbed to these norms of womanhood, adhering to expectations that dictated my body size, compliance, and emotional expression. I was taught that self-prioritization is selfish, that expressing emotions is overly dramatic, and that any display of humanity is frowned upon. I believed that to fit in, I had to diminish myself—altering my appearance, interests, and essence. In a world where self-love is an act of defiance, I desperately sought validation elsewhere. My encounter with drugs and alcohol falsely promised me inclusion into the desired mold of womanhood, allowing me to display the traits I believed were necessary. However, this pursuit led me to a breaking point, bending over backward to conform to an imposed standard. Sobriety became the key to liberating my true self, embarking on a journey back to my roots. It has allowed me to reconstruct the meaning of womanhood, celebrating qualities like compassion, strength, intelligence, bravery, sensitivity, and wisdom. The burdens I once bore have been replaced with profound gratitude for the honor of belonging to the extraordinary collective known as women. In celebration of International Women's Day, let's embrace the diversity and strength inherent in womanhood, forging a path of empowerment and self-discovery.

Nicole's Story: The Unseen Faces of Addiction: From High-Functioning to Healing

By Nicole Benoist, CPS, CCAR • 05 Feb, 2024
Addiction doesn't always look like the bottom of the barrel. It can appear as high-functioning, happy, fortunate, and "doing all the things" (as my home group says). In my adult life, I was always an after-five drinker. I didn't drink during the day, had a career, was a mom to two great kids, and was highly productive — so I conveniently figured it wasn't a problem. When I talk to people about addiction, I always go back to the why. For me, it went through stages of excuses — in my teen years, I wanted to control my high anxiety; in my early 20s, I felt alcohol made me a better person — funnier, more interesting, and more creative; in my 30s, it was a bandaid for boredom. Yes, addiction can be genetically predisposed, but it is also sneaky, persistent, and unrelenting. Addiction loved my cognitive cracks. It did not give a f*** how much I had to lose. The disease is progressive, and the more time and space I provided it to grow, the more it wreaked havoc on every part of my brain, body, and soul. In my late 30s/early 40s, it reached what I consider the most dangerous level — to escape and numb. When I think about my first year of sobriety, the vision that comes to mind is not of my outward appearance. I see a snapshot of my insides in boiling water. My head is cut open, exposing live electrical wires sparking and flailing in an attempt to get out and disconnect from my brain and heart. I drank for 30 years (with the exception of two pregnancies), and everything inside me had to learn how to do life without an altering substance. What does that look like? It is a slow roll. It is not an overnight process. I despised the process at times, but I had people around me who held all my pieces together and connected me back to gratitude. It was a rebirth — of EVERYTHING. It was uncomfortable (physically, emotionally, and mentally). It was awkward. It was humbling. It was scary. In the beginning, I did not believe any of the promises people told me would come with sobriety. My new life began on April 13, 2020. As with many, I reached a point where I had enough. My come-to-Jesus moment was in a fetal position on my kitchen floor (unintendedly, but appropriately on Easter Sunday — thank you, God). I took the photo on the left to remember the last day of my former life, 4/12/20. The image on the right is two years later, in the summer of 2022. As the days, months, and years of sobriety click forward, it is not about the drinking. I don't miss the booze — truly, I do not miss it or think about it (a possibility I thought was a total lie before sobriety). I am not as raw as I was in the first couple of years of sobriety, but I do keep learning about possibility, love, and my place in the world. I live in a constant state of discovery. All of the excuses I used to stay in addiction are, ironically, what has been cured in sobriety. With booze in hand, I had no idea what I was capable of, and now it seems I find out a little more each day. The future is bright, my friends. That doesn't mean perfection. For me, it means peace in all the feelings, from joy to discomfort to downright pain. The best news is that I'm feeling it all. I look forward to continuing my work in helping others navigate through their recovery as I join the You Are Accountable team. If you or anyone you know/love/care for needs help, please message me.
Share by: