LAST WEEK, I bumped into an old-school mate I hadn’t seen in years. He had fallen on difficult times with substance abuse and bad luck. It was a sobering reminder of how many Black males of our generation had been shaped and stressed by societal demands. Growing up in the 1970s, Black manhood carried a great weight. Deep ingrained cultural norms existed laying out what it meant to be “strong”. Whether as sons, brothers, or fathers, we were urged to present a picture of quiet resiliency and values, regardless of the unfairness or difficulty we encountered.
Looking back, I recognise how harmful that silence was. Black males were supposed to carry their responsibilities without protest, hide evidence of weakness, and keep their stoicism amid trying circumstances. This frequently resulted in solitude, a nagging sense of alienation, and an unappreciated mental toll. The scars are visible now. Many of us have absorbed this concept of strength to such a degree that it now permeates our identities, and I, too, have found myself following those historic standards. Growing up in a different society, my sons cannot relate to the struggle that moulded me. However, in reality, my expectations of them are rooted in a need to lead them away from the suffering and struggles I went through.
Seeing my old school pal set off a chain of thought. Why is it that when Black males seek treatment, they still more often than White men be sectioned under the Mental Health Act? For many, this sadly makes mental health treatment seem like a hostile or unwelcome environment.
Men, Black and White, of my generation, were conditioned to feel that asking for help indicates weakness and, therefore, treat it as such. But for Black men, depression, anxiety, and an inability to communicate feelings might result from the inner struggle between preserving resilience and negotiating systematic inequality.
Within this introspection, I saw hope in the narrative of Curtiss Cook, the American actor who has deliberately brought attention to Black men’s mental health problems. Like many others, Cook’s life has been full of personal struggles, including the death of his mother and the change to an empty home as his kids grew up. He, too, struggled with emotions of emptiness and sadness even with his accomplishments. Cook sought treatment during these difficult times of hardship; this choice benefited him and motivated him to inspire other Black males to follow his example.
I related to Cook’s openness about his trip through mental health. Even at the height of his success, he talked freely about how treatment helped him negotiate severe depression. One story from his therapy sessions spoke to me: his therapist advised he have a pet for emotional support. Cook was initially dubious, but he finally welcomed Bolo, a Doberman, into his life. He says this choice changed him. Bolo started to provide Cook with emotional stability and company, guiding him through trying circumstances. In his words, Bolo gave him “emotional consistency” when life seemed impossible.
Cook’s narrative includes the bravery to welcome vulnerability. He emphasises the need to realise that vulnerability is a sign of strength, not weakness. Cook said in an interview, “If left unaddressed, pain, sadness, and frustration can lead to an emotional explosion.” His openness about his emotions serves as a sobering reminder that Black males, too, have to figure out how to communicate their emotions and get treatment free from worry about consequences or judgement.
Cook’s dedication to his mental wellness went beyond visits to a therapist. At 57, like me, he committed himself holistically to his well-being, incorporating exercise, diet, and mindfulness into his schedule to take care of his body, mind and spirit. His method is one example of how mental health treatment may be a comprehensive process covering physical, emotional, and psychological requirements.
When I consider our similar message, I realise how important Black men’s empowerment to speak up about their challenges is. Modern ideas of masculinity today have changed where it’s OK to be vulnerable. Asking for assistance is OK. With this, Black guys must understand the need of self-care whether via hobbies, therapy, or other activities.
Black men’s mental health issues in the UK are even more urgent because of the weight of history and continuous racial injustices. Though the scars of our past and the prejudices we still experience now go unacknowledged most of the time, Curtiss Cook’s openness offers hope. His path shows that healing is achievable, but it also calls for the bravery to start the path of treatment. More Black males should feel empowered to break the silence and give their mental health priority. We owe it to ourselves and next generations to question the established wisdom, communicate honestly, and heal.
