Disrespected and Disregarded: Racism and Psychological Distress
Your Weekly Newsletter on Designing Healthier Minds, Vol. 7
Photo by Morgan Vander Hart on Unsplash
My 15-year-old son is a magnificent chocolate specimen of a human being who attends a PWI. Last week, some of his “white” school mates served up a nasty dose of hate to him and several other students of color. In this unprovoked attack, they hurled racial slurs, proclaimed “white" power, and professed that the south would rise again. Massive understatement: this caused a colossal amount of pain for my entire family. We were not only left nursing hurt feelings but had to wonder if my son’s safety was now compromised.
There’s a lingering feeling of hopelessness in recognizing that you can’t protect your child from being othered. However, in the aftermath of this event, the school administration and others of the community, although not all, have been partners with us in continuing to work towards creating an environment where people of color can feel safe and welcomed.
Let’s Talk About Race, Baby
Twelve years ago, when America elected a “black” man as president, a myth was born. Much like the campaign slogan that heralded that eventful night, news outlets tried in earnest to infect us with the hope that we were entering into a post-racial society.
My heart expanded as the news broke of the racial hate in my son’s school and members of the community stepped up to stand with us as allies, declaring there is no place for that in their neighborhoods and schools. Removed from the 1950s and 60s in temporal distance, we understand that in that world, we would’ve been left grappling with our grief in insolation as little if any support would’ve been received from those outside of our ethnic community.
But let me tell you what else happened in this so-called post-racial world of 2020. Parents of the “white” children in this incident lawyered up and defended their kid’s right to freedom of speech. One parent went so far as to describe the administration’s efforts of diversity and inclusion as “ludicrous.”
It’s hopeful to see those who identify as “white” standing alongside people of color as allies, saying this isn’t right. It’s hopeful to see that it’s at least publicly recognized that you can’t treat people as inferior or less worthy of respect based solely on the visual difference of their skin. But you realize outside of a date on a calendar; we haven’t come that far. The balloon of hope has been popped; sixty-six years later, racism still lives.
Post-racial America is a myth, an illusion.
Racism is a system of oppression built on the fabricated idea of race as an advantage. Race is an unimaginative American-centered social construct, not a biological fact.
Were there “white” people in antiquity? Certainly some assume so, as though categories we use today could be read backward over the millennia. People with light skin certainly existed well before our own times. But did anyone think they were “white” or that their character related to their color? No, for neither the idea of race nor the idea of “white” people had been invented, and people’s skin color did not carry useful meaning. What mattered was where they lived.
Nell Irvin Painter, The History of White People
And although I use them in this article for clarity as I understand most Americans believe race exists, the labels of “white” and “black” are not historically accurate. We can’t cling to the hope of a post-racial present or future without challenging and dismantling the ideologies and laws that single out a group of people as superior while positioning everyone else as inferior.
So, while I’m displeased, I also understand that the insulting behavior of the kids at my son’s school, and later the parents, is born out of a lack of knowledge and is an indicator of a larger systemic illness.
Life is inherently risky
While the scientific community at large no longer argues for the existence of races, they recognize the enduring dominance of racism. And the trauma of racism presents more than the likelihood of physical harm. It also has been shown to cause psychological distress for those for whom it’s directed.
Racial discrimination as a risk factor for detrimental effects on mental health has long been recognized. African Americans who reported experiences of racial discrimination also reported lower levels of psychological well-being than those who did not experience discrimination. There is not only a significant relationship between racial discrimination and poorer mental health, but it is cumulative and results in poorer health over time.
Verna M. Keith, In and Out of Our Right Minds: The Mental Health of African American Women
African Americans maintain a heightened state of anxiety and vigilance that has implications for mental health because of the ever-present threat of racial discrimination. Furthermore, race-related stress has established detrimental influences on physical health as well.
It's the Little Things in Life
As an African American woman, I face little incidents of racial discrimination, microaggressions, almost daily. More so perhaps than someone who doesn’t inhabit a space in which only a handful of people look like you and most of them share your last name.
It’s these microaggressions like not being treated respectfully by the person checking you out at the market, after seeing them smile and make small talk with the “white” lady who was in front of you.
Or while as you wait in your car for your kids to get out of school and someone comes up to your window, singling you out of all the other idling vehicles around, to ask you if you were lost or needed something.
Or when you pick your child up from practice and the other parents barely look in your direction as they give you an obligatory hello while physically moving themselves away from you, forming a silo of commonality, while you, the only brown-skinned girl around, stand off by yourself as they enthusiastically ask each other “which kid is yours?”.
Little incidents, daily.
All incidents of racial hate are cruel, yet studies show that it’s the small daily hassles that cause the most psychological damage to women of color.
Racial and ethnic discrimination occurs more often than gender-based discrimination for black women. The chronic stress of everyday discrimination is more detrimental to the mental and physical health of black women than more blatant incidents. There is a positive relationship between internalized racism and symptoms of depression.
Verna M. Keith, In and Out of Our Right Minds: The Mental Health of African American Women
We’ve Come This Far by Faith
While we’re addressing myths, here’s another we should expose: “black” women are physically and mentally stronger than “white” women or just other people in general. False. We haven’t been given some unnatural ability to endure pain. We bleed too, we hurt too, and racism and other acts of hate perpetrated against us because of the gorgeous skin that God has wrapped our souls in stings, a lot. To all my sisters of color, we need to take measures to cope with this trauma so that we can keep ourselves as sane as possible.
Racial and ethnic discrimination occurs more often than gender-based discrimination for black women…There is a positive relationship between internalized racism and symptoms of depression. Encounters everywhere resulting in depression, anxiety, mental fatigue, and eating and sleeping disorders. Women who get upset or angry in response to experiences of unfair treatment sometimes do worse than those who do not get angry. There is no statistically significant relationship between depressive symptoms and being hassled because of gender.
Verna M. Keith, In and Out of Our Right Minds: The Mental Health of African American Women
So, if we fair worse when we get angry (as much as I hate to play into that trope), then where do we go from here?
I want to offer a neat tidy little “How to Try This On,” but I honestly don’t have the answers. As I channel Oprah, what I know for sure is that we begin by armoring ourselves against internalizing the racist beliefs and behaviors of others. We self-protect by refusing to absorb the racist propaganda that wants us to hate the physical features that make us beautifully distinct. Our nose, our hair, the shape of our bodies and yes, our skin color in all the magnificent shades that it presents itself.
And as one who hails from a strong legacy of faith, just like my mother and her mother before her and so on, I do possess a supernatural strength that has nothing to do with the color of my skin or what continent my ancestors came from. Anchoring my identity in the One who created me reminds me that He is the only one who gets to define me.
We also protect our mental health by forming a collective with others who share our struggle to support each other. It’s been a salve to be able to talk things through and know that I’m not alone. Especially when trying to process the onslaught of microaggressions that are often so subtle that you fight to understand what exactly is happening.
As I said, I don’t have a tidy answer for how to cope with the psychological distress of racism, as I’m still trying to trespass this road myself. But the first step in healing is honoring your pain. I would be lying if I told you that my heart didn’t squeeze in on itself every time the incident at my son’s school is played out on the news or in my mind. Or that my thoughts don’t automatically go to “what’s wrong?” when one of my kids comes to the car and they’re not smiling. Or that I don’t experience anxiety every time I walk into a restaurant or store in that neighborhood.
And after honoring my pain, I know all too well the mental anguish that comes from ruminating on things outside of my sphere of control. I can’t control how those who identify as “white” see me and my loved ones. I can only control my response.
Reading List: