By Tynesha M. McCullers
Just a few weeks ago, singer/songwriter, Michelle Williams, posted on Instagram that she had taken her own advice and sought out mental health professionals for her well-being. With Williams’ most recent revelation came an outpouring of love, support, prayers, and appreciation from family, friends, and fans alike. This type of support is what I believe to be critical when committing to a journey of self-care.
However, what this moment has me grappling with is how self-care is being defined and what forms are being applauded. When considering money, time and access, I wonder if there are ways in which we affirm certain forms of self-care and invalidate others. In the case of Michelle Williams, having money to hire mental health professionals and having the time to focus on her mental health is what’s being valued. Yet, I wonder what it would look like if we also applaud the everyday, less expensive ways we care for ourselves.
As I reflect on my journey living with depression and anxiety, all I can think of is the messages I have received about self-care. While consistently seeing a psychologist and psychiatrist, both of them would tell me that going to therapy and taking my meds were my primary methods of self-care. But, as someone who had a hard time coming to terms with her mental illness, I always wondered about what I was doing before therapy—before the meds. I asked myself if I was getting weaker because I didn’t feel able to manage my well-being without the assistance of others.
A little over half a year ago, I made the decision to get rid of my social media accounts, particularly Facebook because I used it more than anything. I remember the time I spent weighing the pros and cons of not having the account anymore and thinking about the type of impact it would have on me and the relationships I had built on the platform. I spoke with different family members and friends about the choice I was going to make and recall mixed but mainly negative views of my decision. Even with the reasoning I gave about needing to take care of myself, I was still shamed for not wanting to stay on the site.
Friends said I would miss out on event invites and lose opportunities to share ideas and network with people. Family argued I wouldn’t be able to keep up with what was going on in their lives and they wouldn’t be able to keep up with me either. The people closest to me were using different aspects of my life that they knew were important to me to shame me into staying as opposed to disconnecting and taking care of myself. In their own ways, they implied that leaving Facebook would do me more harm than good and used shame as a way to get me to rethink my decision.
For such a long time, Facebook had been causing me mental and emotional aches and pains. Between witnessing people on my timeline achieve milestones (read: getting married, having kids), argue about beliefs, or the constant anti-Black violence through the sharing of posts and videos—I was exhausted. I was tired of feeling shitty about who I was becoming so I decided to opt out of Facebook in order to take better care of myself.
According to Raphailia Michael, self-care is “any activity that we do deliberately in order to take care of our mental, emotional, and physical health.” I appreciate this definition because it speaks to deliberate actions and mentions different types of health that are considered when taking care of yourself. What I also like is that the definition doesn’t name a specific act—meaning that almost anything can be considered self care.
We applaud people like Michelle Williams for recognizing an issue and working to resolve it because we’ve been socialized to think that seeking mental health professionals is the only solution to the problem. And yet we don’t acknowledge and applaud ourselves and those around us for our self-care efforts, even with less money, access, and fewer resources.
In doing self-care, I have to ask myself what systems am I continuing to perpetuate when I expect people to seek medical attention, go to church, spend time with family, etc. Because I do not know everyone’s experiences or trauma, I cannot expect for the solution to it all to be the same thing. I am a firm believer that Black people doing anything to make sure that they’re mentally, emotionally and physically well, in a society that works against us, are actively resisting systems that expect us to fail. Therefore, whatever my people are doing to take care of themselves in this world that hates us, I’m here for it and I’m going to celebrate it!
That means:
- Gassing up my people when they come from getting their hair done or a shape up.
- Liking, retweeting, and sharing Black joy in gifs, memes, new dances, and/or funny videos.
- Letting them know I’m thinking of them when they take a day to stay in bed and binge watch a show.
- Not shaming my people for eating what they want, drinking, getting high or having a lot of sex.
- Supporting my people who don’t attend family gatherings to avoid being lectured about their life choices.
And the list could go on…
When I was on Facebook, I contemplated suicide at least once a day because I was not happy about what I was seeing on my timeline. I made a choice to walk away from it in order to better care for myself. Although I was not met with positive regards for my choice, some days I fantasize about what it would’ve been like if I had been given credit for taking care of myself—a true act of resistance as a Black woman in America.
Self-care isn’t a one size fits all type of concept and it shouldn’t be treated as such. We need to shift language and be more cognizant of who and what we are affirming and inadvertently invalidating in conversations around mental health and self-care within the Black community. We have to celebrate our people taking care of themselves whether big or small especially when considering the trauma we experience on a daily basis because of the bodies we occupy. In the context of America, every Black person taking care of themselves needs applauding, period!
Suggested Readings
“Black joy is resistance: Why we need a movement to balance Black triumph with trials” Black Youth Project (2017)
“For Black women, Self-Care can be a radical act” OkayAfrica (2017)
“Because Sometimes “Doing the Work” Takes Work: Reclaiming My Self Care Beyond Baths & Wine” The Body Is Not An Apology (2018)
Tynesha is a strong-willed higher education professional in the DMV with a passion for social justice. Born and raised in North Carolina, Tynesha is true to southern roots. Tynesha has a B.S. in Human Development and a Master of Education. Tynesha’s interests include watching documentaries, listening to podcasts, singing, painting, traveling, writing and making everything about race.
