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I dont believe in telling people my business.
Courtesy of Sherri Williams
But I also believe in storytelling and the power of personal narratives.
After all, the article was about howwe don’t talk aboutmental health in the black community.
I didnt want to write a story using an anonymous source, or someone hiding behind a pseudonym.
With a deadline looming, I thought, Too bad I cant use myself as a source.
I’ve lived through the very things I wanted to write about.
But I couldn’t expose my experiencesmyselfthat way.
And why would I?
Why open myself up to potential ridicule and judgment?
When employers Google me I didnt want my name anddepressionto be the first thing that popped up.
What kind of impression would that leave?
I am already a woman who is black and overweight.
I am all of those things.
Why would I take that chance?
Discrimination in the workplace is bad enough as it is.
Sometimes it’s too much to bear.
We talk about relatives and neighbors who were touched in the head or had prolonged cases of the blues.
In small hushed circles some of us were having discussions about our mental health.
But why werent we having these discussions more openly?
Why wasnt I talking about my mental health history publicly?
I talked to a half dozen friends and relatives about the potential fallout of revealing my depression so publicly.
All of them said I should.
They assured me that I shouldnt be concerned about career backlash.
I also thought about other black women who publicly talked about dealing with depression.
But I was still reluctant to share my story and be vulnerable.
For years people told me they saw me as a strong black woman.
I know that experiencing depression or any kind of mental distress isnt weak, its part of being human.
But we live in a society that doesnt allow black people to be human, vulnerable or have emotions.
The 22-year-old created the online platform For Brown Girls and the #DarkSkinRedLip project to uplift black women.
She took her life in 2014.
I also thought about one of my idols,Phyllis Hyman.
In 1995, the supremely gifted singer and Broadway actress committed suicide at age 45.
She died when I was 23 and moving through a bout of depression.
Our lives depend on it.
So while wading through tears and years of painful memories I startedwritingabout my history of depression for SELF.
Writing about my depression for the story was cathartic for me.
Throughout this process I also had important conversations with friends about their experiences with depression and anxiety.
Some revealed episodes of mental distress I never knew about.
The story wasn’t even written yet, and already it was helping people open up.
I knew I was doing the right thing, no matter how hard or scary it was.
I hope that more black people start having conversations about mental health so we all can start healing.
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