Black Girl, you don’t have Mental Health Problems.

*Content Warning: This piece contains references to suicide, which may be triggering to some. 

“Today, I am a black woman in a body of coal I am always burning and no one knows my name. I am a nameless fury, I am a blues scratched from the throat of Ms. Nina—iIam always angry”

Black girl, you don’t have mental health problems. You are going through changes. You are fine. The stress you feel is within normal limits. What happened to you must have been so scary, but you should be fine now. You are safe so why are you so worried? Black girl, you seriously overreact to circumstantial facts of the past. Why are you crying? You are fine. Why are you so angry? You are fine. Why do you want to be medicated? You are fine. Why are you so quiet? You are fine. You have no reason to be so sad. You are fine. Why are you so anxious? You are fine. Black girl, calm down—you are fine. Black girl is an infinitesimally small beam of light in this cold and darkening world. Black girl walks through life with a smile on her face regardless of the complexities of human experience. Black girl gets hurt time and time again, but still finds the strength to push forward. Black girl doesn’t get broken-hearted, she drinks Hennessy with her friends and dances out the pain while internally bleeding.

Something happens to black girl one day, but she doesn’t say anything. She washes off the shame and washes down the guilt with yet another shot to overcome the blame. Black girl gets tired. Black girl gets tired and relocates. Black girl runs and leaves the pain behind, yet it only follows and changes shape. Black girl wastes years upon years running and self depreciates.

Black girl sees the doctor again about being so sad. The doctor reminds her about being codependent and releasing things of the past. Black girl pretends to understand. Black girl carries on with sessions. Black girl deems herself “well.” Black girl keeps on keeping on as she does best. Black girl is fine again. Black girl is fine. The sadness bubbles up from time to time, but that is okay because Black girl is fine. Black girl buries herself in fiction because it is a portal outside of this existence. She can be anyone, anywhere, at any time through those literary pages. She finds joy among the classics, the poets over time, and the romance of all fashions. She reads of time travel and love and she imagines—she is everyone she reads about and she is happy. Black girl sings out of tune. Black girl reads articles and writes pages upon pages. Black girl sees her loved ones and serves happily for the King of Kings. Black girl seems to finally be happy.

Something happens to Black girl. Black girl is triggered. Everything black girl has stored away behind the locked doors of her soul, begins to seep over. Black girl can’t sleep. Black girl wakes throughout the night frequently checking locks, lost again among somber thought. Black girl is fearful. Black girl tells her loved ones that she is not okay. They think she will be because the offender is in custody, yet they do not know of her fractured mental capacity. Black girl is frightened, but she can’t let anyone know this because black girl is fine. Black girl begins to panic. She can’t handle stress anymore and won’t stop shaking. Black girl is praying for rain to come because that always brings her back to herself again. Black girl is shaking. Black girl asks the police to help, but is left without answers. Black girl hears another sound at the door and jumps out of her sleep because black girl is triggered. Black girl is triggered. Black girl can’t stop imagining what those grubby hands would feel like if she wouldn’t have woken up. Black girl remembers washing off the shame and swallowing the guilt once before. Black girl is angry. Black girl is anxious. Black girl is shaking. Black girl knows this isn’t normal. Black girl calls the doctor and asks for help. Black girl waits. She waits for a response. Black girl gets ignored. Black girl calls again saying she needs help. Black girl is struggling and doesn’t know how to be strong right now, she asks, “Please, somebody help.” Black girl goes to the doctor. Doctor says, “Why didn’t you go to psychiatry?” Black girl is shaking again. Black girl says, “I can’t sleep, please look, I’m shaking.” Black girl says, “Something happened, I need help. These things keep happening that I can’t handle.” Doctor says, “Call this number and make an appointment.” Black girl says, “But my blood pressure and pulse were high. Can’t you see I’m shaking? Can’t you order some medication? These panic attacks, I can’t take them.” Doctor gives her a number to call and says schedule an appointment. Black girl is once again blown-off, because, of course, she is a black girl. Black girl calls the number trying to make an appointment. Black girl hasn’t left the parking lot and is still uncontrollably shaking.