By Andrea Stevens
AFRO Staff Writer
astevens@afro.com
Mental health professionals are calling attention to the urgent need for culturally competent care, open dialogue and systemic reform as it relates to suicide in the Black community.
Black men, specifically, are rarely given safe spaces to feel vulnerable—and have even fewer opportunities to build emotional intelligence. Now, advocates say it’s time for a change.
Jason Jennings-Wright, a traveling hospital social worker, psychiatric rehabilitation therapist and adjunct professor, said many Black men are suffering in silence.
“We don’t give men– especially Black men– space to say, ‘I’m not okay,’” Jennings-Wright said. “We’ve internalized this idea that vulnerability is weakness. But that silence is costing lives.”
According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, “the suicide rate among males in 2023 was approximately four times higher than the rate among females. Men make up 50 percent of the U.S. population but account for nearly 80 percent of suicides.”
Jennings-Wright believes part of the issue lies in stigma and a lack of culturally relevant information.
“If we don’t have enough messaging highlighting the importance of mental health in Black communities, our own thought processes won’t allow us to even recognize what’s happening inside of us,” he said.
Mark E. Carrington, a Black man who began therapy after experiencing severe panic attacks, said generational silence shaped his early understanding of mental health.
“Growing up, nobody talked about therapy. You just went to church and tried to pray it away,” Carrington said. “But that wasn’t enough. Therapy helped me get to the root of issues that started in childhood.”
Both Carrington and Jennings-Wright emphasized the importance of judgment-free spaces where Black men can express themselves without fear of being labeled weak.
“It’s not a weakness to ask for help. If anything, it’s a strength—it shows self-awareness, discernment and the critical thinking skills we should be encouraging in every Black man,” Jennings-Wright said.
Carrington said therapy helped him build coping tools to manage anxiety and emotional distress.
“You have to go at your own pace. Therapy isn’t a race,” he said. “You need to feel comfortable with your therapist, or you won’t see results. It only works when you’re honest—with yourself and with them.”
Jennings-Wright also warns against viewing mental health as a purely individual issue.
“We can’t just focus on personal responsibility. That’s a Band-Aid,” he said. “We have to talk about systemic issues—poverty, racism, and capitalism—that make life feel unbearable for so many. It’s not just about fixing the person. It’s about fixing the conditions they’re living in.”
That message resonated with Carrington, who said his own journey began when he saw peers making the choice to seek help. He said community plays a vital role in shifting attitudes.
“It helps when you have friends who are already in therapy. They make it easier to open up—and help break the false stigma that Black men don’t need an outlet. We absolutely do,” he said.
Both men agree that healing can’t happen in isolation. Lasting change requires cultural and institutional commitment.
“There are people like me—Black men—creating spaces where others can show up fully, with all their pain and questions, but we need more,” Jennings-Wright said. “We need families, schools, churches, and policymakers to show up too. Until we treat Black men’s mental health as a collective responsibility, we’ll keep losing lives that could have been saved.”