Demons In The Cut, That’s A Scary Sight
Now that the dust has settled and Fredo Santanna has been laid to rest, it seems as if the world has forgotten about him and his untimely death.
A local icon and pioneer in Chicago’s Drill Music scene, Fredo solidified himself as a heavyweight in the rap scene, releasing numerous projects with prominent artists such as Kendrick Lamar.
When everything first happened, I foolishly tweeted my thoughts about his death without having any real context.
At that moment, I thought Santana’s death should be a wake-up call for those that willingly abuse drugs and/or alcohol. To me, 27 is far too young to be dying from a seizure, said to be brought on by his kidney or liver problems.
Upon deeper reflection, I realized that it’s deeper than that.
Fredo didn’t do that to himself because he wanted to. I’m sure he wanted to live a full life with plenty of children, riches and the friends he grew up with. However, when you’ve seen the things that he has seen and experienced so much trauma, demons develop. And these demons are hard to defeat.
Trauma is odd. It may not directly affect you, but once it does, its similar to the devil: only coming around to kill, steal and destroy. It sneaks up on you and chokes you until you feel paralyzed. Desperately wanting to scream out, to cry, to fall out in pain.
But sometimes, you can’t.
And when you can’t, sometimes those demons haunt. Sleepless nights turn into an idle mind. Some may start off with weed, a natural healing substance many have self-medicated with for centuries. Others develop a taste for alcohol or start to pop pills recreationally. And unfortunately, the rap industry also has a fascination with lean.
When the high comes, you temporarily forget about the pain and trauma that plague you. You forget about the demons that haunt you.
But when the high is over, many have a tendency to chase that temporary pain-reliever over and over again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
At this point, some of us develop habits: some we can control and some we cannot.
I. You. Me. We.
We judged Fredo for his addiction.
But did he really have a choice? Hell, do Black men anywhere have a choice?
According to the Office of Minority Services for the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, the death rate for African-American males by suicide is four times greater than African-American women in 2014.
I’m not a psychiatrist, so I cannot without a doubt say Fredo and so many like him suffered from severe mental health issues. However, I do know what racism, patriarchy and the mental health stigma mixed in with untreated trauma look like.
R A C I S M
From schools to neighborhoods compromised of predominantly Black or Latino people, there are common trends: schools being under resourced, socially constructed cycles of poverty, food desserts galore, and medical and mental health facilities being severely underfunded and eventually cut. Let’s not even talk about the high volume of police misconduct, housing discrimination and the over policing of certain neighborhoods. If Chicago is truly the war zone many say it is, then we must acknowledge the racist policies, laws and institutions that made us this way. Going through all of this on a daily basis will eventually take a toll on a person’s psyche.
P A T R I A R C H Y
While Black men benefit from patriarchy, there are many ways in which they are hindered by it as well.
Society’s traditional patriarchal mindset teaches boys that showing any type of emotion besides anger is weak. It teaches boys that violence is the only way to assert one’s self to appear strong. It teaches boys that crying is for bitches and honestly, what’s more damaging to common conventions about masculinity than to be labeled girly or a bitch?
Patriarchy places boys and men into this tight box of gender norms and unrealistic expectations and accepts toxic masculinity as the only form of masculinity.
Our boys in the hood don’t get to be sensitive. They don’t get to cry. They have to suck that shit up. They have to be soldiers well before their brains and bodies are fully developed.
MENTAL HEALTH STIGMA
The stigma that is associated with Black folks receiving help for mental health issues and trauma is so unfair if we are to properly heal. At the same time, us being disproportionately misdiagnosed in comparison to other groups doesn’t help either. Just because you may suffer from PTSD, depression, anxiety, etc., doesn’t mean you should be written off as crazy and thrown away.
It’s deeper than that.
Tell me, how “normal” would you be if you saw your friends murdered or loved ones constantly locked up? How normal would you be if you had to endure cycles of poverty your whole life or fear police violence simply for existing?
The stigma is a part of the reason why so many of us suffer in silence and the silence makes it easier for us to self-destruct.
To the public eye, Fredo was probably seen as nothing more than a demon, whose lifestyle handed him exactly what he deserved. Crude lyrics, and arguments with people over the internet made a lot of people write him off as nothing more than another angry black man from the hood who had more money than he knew what to do with and more access to drugs than he should’ve. To others, Fredo was much more than that.
He was loved by family and friends.
He was someone’s companion and someone’s father.
He was someone who had demons just like all of us yet his life still mattered.
His death doesn’t have to be the poster child for “This is what happens when you do too much drugs and alcohol.” We don’t have to harshly judge him, I’m sure he was well aware of his fuck-ups.
But when it’s too late, it’s just too late.
Now a young man is dead, physically never to be seen by anyone who loves him ever again.
He’s not a poster child for the next D.A.R.E campaign but maybe with his death we can finally start having serious conversations about Black men, their trauma and the unhealthy coping mechanisms of it all.
