Showing posts with label suicide. Show all posts
Showing posts with label suicide. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Black suicides: tragic, but not epidemic

Is it just me, or is suicide in the news a lot lately?

In August, there was the suicide of Lee Thompson Young, the actor who first came to fame as the child star of "The Famous Jett Jackson." In response, Ebony magazine featured a piece by psychologist Donald E. Grant, Jr., "BLACK SUICIDE: When Prayer Is Not Enough," calling for Black Americans to acknowledge the reality of mental illness among us.

On November 11, the title of Dr. Grant's article was underscored by the suicide of a pastor in Macon, Georgia, the Rev. Teddy Parker, Jr. 

A week later, Merrick McKoy, of Westminster, Colorado, broke into his ex-girlfriend's apartment and shot their 22-month-old daughter and himself - but only after taking a picture of himself and the toddler and posting it on Facebook.

His last status read, "Don’t judge me had no choice."

By this time, I was remembering the suicides of Don Cornelius, and of Jovan Belcher. And starting to wonder if Black America was in the midst of some major cultural shift. You see, in my youth, it seemed to be a given that suicide was for white people - that it was most commonly an outworking of the misery evoked by having wealth but not having God. And since black people had God, but didn't have wealth, we were, you know, safe.

Yeah, that's simplistic. But that was then. This is now. And now, in December, 2013, the Rev. Ed Montgomery, pastor of a church in Hazel Crest, Illinois, shot himself to death in front of his son.

What in the world is going on?

Better reporting, maybe... While it feels like suicide is becoming more common lately among Black people, especially Black men, the data suggest otherwise. If there was a time when time when Black people didn't commit suicide at all, it was before 1992. But between 1992 and 2007, an "African American Suicide Fact Sheet" from the American Association of Suicidology shows a long-term decline in suicides among black Americans, while a more recent chart from the Suicide Prevention Resource Center shows black suicides remaining virtually flat between 2001 and 2010.

And while the constructs of my youth were simplistic, the AAS chart does show that suicide rates among black Americans have remained significantly lower than among whites.

But there is a troubling wrinkle in all this: suicides among the young. According to the AAS, suicide was the third leading cause of death among African-American youth ages 10-19 in 2007. The SPRC report named it as the third leading cause of death among blacks aged 15-24.

What contributes to suicide among the young? It seems that for everyone, the biggest risk factors are obvious ones like prior suicide attempts, alcohol and drug abuse, mood and anxiety disorders and access to lethal means. For black youth, the SPRC says that additional risk factors include parental conflict, perceived racism and discrimination, and the lack of mental health services access and use.

Conversely, "protective factors" include effective mental health care; connectedness to individuals, family, community, and social institutions; problem-solving skills; and contacts with caregivers. "Orthodox religious beliefs and personal devotion" and "Participation in organized religious practices, such as church attendance" were also cited.

I came to this topic in a state of agitation, based on the news of the past few months. But while suicide is always tragic, looking over the data leaves me feeling better about Black folk in America in that regard. We're doing better than might be expected.

Just imagine how much better we could do when we remove the stigma around mental illness. If we do that, and strengthen our young people's sense of community, their problem-solving skills and their faith...I'll go ahead and say it: we could set the example for developing a culture that affirms the goodness and value of life itself, no matter what.

Thursday, February 02, 2012

Thinking about suicide (again).

Suicide is in the news.

First, "Soul Train" creator and host Don Cornelius was found dead in an apparent suicide. Then the Huffington Post reported that actress Keke Palmer is reaching out to teens after the suicide of 17-year-old Ashley Duncan in Houston,Texas.

This is striking for me because about two weeks ago, I considered writing a post that would open like this:

I'm not sure how old I was when I first considered suicide.

Something like that. I played with different phrasings, trying to find the string of words that would roll off the tongue most pleasantly.

Anyway, I'm not sure how old I was, but I think I was in 10th grade. And I don't remember exactly why I was considering it. What I do remember is why I decided against it.

I decided against it because I felt it would be the ultimate in ingratitude and in dishonoring God.

That has held up over time - in all the times that suicide has crossed my mind, it has merely crossed, not stayed - because the refusal to dishonor God that way has not allowed it to stay.

So when it pops into my head, it doesn't scare me. I reject it, and keep going.

I decided against writing that post a couple of weeks ago, because I feared that it would make someone panic, when my only reason for mentioning suicide would be to re-affirm my rejection of it.

Indeed, after that first time, I concluded that contemplating it, and deciding against it, might have made me stronger in some sense than someone who has never considered it at all. I have decided to live, in a way that most people haven't.

And most emphatically, in a way that Don Cornelius and Ashley Duncan didn't.

Writing at www.thegrio.com, Ronda Racha Penrice says that Don Cornelius' death in particular, should serve as a wake-up call for the Black community regarding mental health issues. I couldn't agree more. But how do we acknowledge that call? How do we wake up?

I think the first step is to spread one simple idea: it's ok to need help. If your car's not working right, you take it to a mechanic. If you suspect that your mind's not working right, you take it to a therapist. And it's ok.

Or if that seems like too much, you at least talk to...someone. Parent. Teacher. Minister. Friend. Bartender. Somebody. Face-to-face. Not to the world on Twitter or Facebook. To a real live person who can look you in the eye and tell you that it's ok to need help, and who just might help you find it.