By Alexa Peters

To learn more about the local and national resources available, or how you can show up as an ally for black healing, watch Converge’s full interview with McGirt.

According to data from the Center for Disease Control, as reported by the Suicide Prevention Resource Center, Black suicide appears to be less common than white suicide.

 “At 7.2 per 100,000, the age-adjusted suicide rate for Black populations in 2018 was approximately half the overall U.S. suicide rate of 14.2 per 100,000,” the longitudinal study reports.

But, according to Ashley McGirt M.S.W., a Seattle-based therapist who specializes in African American suicide, this data may be misleading, particularly when you factor in the stigma around mental health care in the community—and the effects of COVID-19.

“Suicide is the third leading cause of death for African American male youth and we don’t talk about it,” McGirt said. “When it comes to the Black community, what I see is we don’t want to acknowledge it, we don’t want to say what it was that lead that person to harm themselves, or how they died...We keep it within our inner circles and we don’t talk about it and share our stories because there’s so much guilt.”

As a result, depression and suicide rates in the Black community are often underreported, and those who are suffering continue to suffer. Sure enough, one 2000 study found that African American youth are less likely than youth of other backgrounds to disclose thoughts of suicide. 

Fast forward to 2020 and 2021, McGirt says COVID-19 and the George Floyd protests have brought even more Black patients to her doorstep. McGirt’s seeing increased substance abuse throughout the community, people talking about death more often, and other indicators that depression and suicide are looming in the community.

“A lot of the signs of symptoms we normally see for suicide we’re seeing just because of the conditions that COVID has placed on us. For instance, we are social beings and we were placed on this earth to be with other beings, and now we’re forced to isolate,” said McGirt.

Unfortunately, it appears research hasn’t yet caught up with the reality of Black mental health in 2021, highlighting another gap in awareness and research that can impact the access to quality care and mental health resources they desperately need.

“It’s interesting now with COVID we’re seeing an increasing amount of depression and mental health concerns, but the CDC just reported that suicide rates have gone down for the first time since the 1990s. So it will be interesting to see how those numbers are changed as more research and numbers come out due to all the things we’re seeing with the coronavirus.”

So, how can the Black community attend to its mental health, during the COVID era? And how can white allies actively support Black healing?

Firstly, McGirt encourages the Black community to look at cultural notions within the community that may be detrimental to mental wellness, like the idea that vulnerability is weakness and that Black folx must be strong at all costs.

“There is so much strength in vulnerability and in acknowledging I need help and I’m having a hard time,” said McGirt. “Honestly, what that [‘be strong’ mentality] does is that kills us. That’s why Black people are experiencing chronic stress-related illness and dying at disproportionate rates.

Sure enough, a wide variety of studies show that health differences among white and minority ethnic groups are largely dependent on the levels of stress that group withstands in their lifetime.

Additionally, McGirt encourages any black person who’s suffering to take advantages of the resources available to them—in particular, Washington Therapy Fund, which McGirt founded in an effort to provide free therapy to Black people in Washington State. Likewise, she asks allies to support Black mental health with their privilege

“With the coronavirus I’ve seen an uptick in individuals reaching out for therapy, stressed out, and then you add the George Floyd protest, and then unemployment, and many individuals did not have the funds to pay for therapy. And then I had white allies ask me, ‘how can I help?’ And I said, ‘You can pay for their therapy.’”

With that premise, the charitable organization has been able to foot therapy bills for 100 Black patients receive 4-6 free therapy sessions since 2020. To access funds, applicants must merely identify as a black person in Washington state and fill out an application for funds on the charity’s website. Donations are also easily processed on their website.

Along with getting involved with Washington Therapy Fund, McGirt says finding a clinician of color, if at all possible, and patronizing local community health agencies like Sound Health, many of which offer free or sliding-scale services, can be great resources to any Black person seeking mental health care. During COVID, McGirt also suggests getting creative and trying out several different avenues to attend to your mental health—as some methods may not be as accessible.

“I know often times it’s difficult to find a clinician, especially a clinician of color, so that may mean finding other avenues or a different type of clinician or a different type of support—you know, we talk about reiki, acupuncture, and if you’re faith-based, incorporating your spiritual practices,” said McGirt. “Another good one I’ve seen is Clubhouse, it’s all based through the phone and there’s group support chats geared around mental health.”

McGirt recommends anyone who’s depressed talk with someone about how they’ve been feeling, particularly if those feelings have lasted more than a few weeks. Your experience has power, she says, and sharing your story may not only help you and those around you heal, but it may also help to reduce mental health stigma in the Black community.

“It’s okay not to be okay,” said McGirt. “It’s so important as black people that we share our story and that we talk about it.”