Keeping Our Sisters
We contemplate suicide, too.
I wrote and shared these words 8 years ago. Given the recent apparent suicide of Cheslie Kryst, Miss USA 2019, I have decided to share them here as a balm for Black women who may be suffering silently. Some words have been slightly edited.
The news of her death hit me like a ton of bricks. At first, I didn’t know what to say or feel. All I could do was think about what was running through her head when she made the final decision to end her life.
Karyn Washington, founder and creator of For Brown Girls — an online community spaced dedicated to dark skin girls and committed to the promotion of self-love — died recently, at the young age of 22, from an apparent suicide. Her death is both shocking and devastating to those who knew her personally and those who knew her because of her presence in the Black blogosphere. What makes Washington’s death so shocking is that many viewed her as a positive, cheery, and most importantly strong Black woman. In a society that continuously values white beauty standards, For Brown Girls represents the voices of Black and brown girls with darker skin complexions who are told everyday by family members, friends, and the media that they aren’t pretty. If they are pretty, they are “pretty for a dark skin girl.” Through FBG, Washington helped thousands of girls and women overcome their insecurities and find value in their God-given beauty.
Washington’s death reminds me of a conversation I had with my mother a few months ago. “You know what I dislike most about Black families?” I said, “It’s the fact that we don’t really deal with our issues. Someone is always telling us to pray about it. Telling us that God will take care of it. But you know what, sometimes prayer and God aren’t enough! We have real issues that we are suffering from, and we need to do more than pray and talk to God about them.”
Because of Karyn, I stand behind these words. I don’t doubt that someone told her to pray, read her Bible, go to church, etc. While these things may help (temporarily at best), they don’t address the issues that sit deep within our spirits. We need ways to talk about what we’ve been through. We need to figure out how to talk to the people who have hurt us the most, the people whose actions may be the source of our hurt and sorrow. But most importantly, we need ways to change the way our community views the inability to effectively cope. Being unable to mentally and emotionally deal with all the things we’ve experienced isn’t a sign of weakness. It doesn’t make us any less strong than we already are. Instead, it makes us simply human.
When I was 11 years old, I lost my father to suicide. Twelve years later, I am not so sure that I have comprehended nor coped with his untimely death. It does not help that the conversation around mental health issues in the black community is often avoided or dismissed. Right after my dad took his own life, I remember being teased. I remember other Black kids teasing me by saying “That’s why your dad killed himself” or “Your dad was crazy!” Thinking about these comments hurts not because they are riddled with hurtful things, but because they reveal the lack of understanding mental health issues within the Black community.
Black girls are constantly told that they have to be strong. Not for themselves, but for those around them. Unfortunately, many of these Black girls grow up into Black women who sacrifice their mental health in order to be the backbone and rock of their families. There are Black women who carry the emotional burdens of their families, but neglect their own. This can be extremely difficult and lead to depression and suicidal thoughts. This can lead to a suicide realized.
The reactions to Karyn’s apparent suicide have been on both sides of the spectrum. While many of her supporters have expressed empathy and devastation over the loss, there are those who find her death an act of selfishness and can’t seem to understand why a young woman — who appeared to be strong — would take her own life. The reality surrounding Washington’s unexpected suicide is this — Black girls and women are suffering. No matter how strong we appear to be. No matter how many obstacles we overcome. We have struggles too. We cry real tears. We feel real depression.
Now that I’ve begun to process my dad’s suicide a little bit further, I don’t see his decision as necessarily selfish. While I may find myself angry and confused as to why he did what he did, I understand him. I understand the pain and darkness he must have felt in his last hours. I miss him, but if he was truly unhappy and saw no light at the end of his tunnel, how could I possibly ask him to keep living a life unfulfilled?
Karyn Washington’s death scares me. It scares me because I know so many Black girls and women like her. I’m one of them. I have friends who are just like her. Trying to be that strong Black woman our community expects us to be. Seeing our inability to solve our problems through prayer, Bible versus, and our pastor as a sign of weakness, not strength.
We, the Black community, have to do a better job of talking about our problems. We have to change the stigma surrounding mental stress, anxiety, and depression. Even more, we, Black women, have to continue to support each other. We have to let each other know that it’s okay to feel what we feel. It’s okay to want other ways to deal with our mental health besides religion.
It’s okay to be human.
Qubilah is a self-care and personal growth strategist who helps Black women who do too much, do less. She envisions a world in which Black women trade in their superhero or magician capes for radical self-care, rest, and joy.
If this article resonated with you, please clap for me. And if you know a Black woman who could benefit from reading this article, please share. Many thanks.
