In the wake of the horrific massacre in Buffalo, I was driving, thinking of the 10 Black lives cut short by a white supremacist, and I suddenly burst into tears. A few days later, at Mass, the same tears returned. As the priest raised the host, I resisted the inclination to hide my tears—an inclination that has allowed the scourge of racism to fester in this country for far too long.
By the time the chalice was raised my tears were freely flowing. I have a lot of feelings about the murder of 10 innocent people, motivated by the evils of racism and white supremacy, not only because I am a Black woman but also because I am Catholic. My participation in the sacramental life of the church requires that I be moved by experiences that painfully obstruct the kingdom of God’s love. So even as I seek to help others heal in my vocation as a licensed counselor, I too am in the process of healing. That wound was ripped open just 10 days later, this time by a gunman who killed 19 children and two teachers in Uvalde, Tex.
When we talk about protecting mental health in the wake of yet another extreme manifestation of the evils of racism and white supremacy in our country, it must be noted first and foremost: Your emotional distress is a normal response to terribly abnormal experiences. Grief, loss, hopelessness, anger, rage, loneliness, feeling isolated, confusion, self-doubt, feeling unsafe, or wondering, “Am I overreacting?”—these are all normal responses to abnormal experiences, especially when there are people around you who are saying absolutely nothing about the fact that people were quite literally hunted down and murdered for having dark skin.
Your emotional distress is not the pathology here. The pathology is white supremacy and racism.
Your emotional distress is not the pathology here. The pathology is white supremacy and racism. The pathology is a mild and mediocre response from some Americans to racism and white supremacy. You need to attend to your emotional distress so it does not overwhelm you, not because there is something wrong with you.
What are some things you can do to protect your mental health as we walk the road to racial justice and peace, while continuing to experience the fruits of racism and white supremacy?
1. Be intentional about media exposure. We need to know what is going on in the world, and we need to find trustworthy sources for our news. We also need to be intentional about the amount of media we take in. There is still a debate within the mental health community about whether the effects of exposure to traumatic content in the media can meet the criteria for PTSD. But we know media can be traumatizing; the only debate is to what extent.
You don’t have to read every article or respond to every tweet. Prayerfully discern what your limits are. Limits are good; they remind us of God’s providence. Once you have discerned your limits, intentionally fast from media at the level you need to safeguard your well-being.
What are some things you can do to protect your mental health as we walk the road to racial justice and peace, while continuing to experience the fruits of racism and white supremacy?
2. Express your feelings in a supportive setting, and name the experience. I know this sounds like an elementary intervention, but when I ask adults to name three feelings they are having after a traumatic event, most need a feelings chart and a few minutes. We all struggle to be present to how we are feeling. Naming our feelings, writing them down, sharing them with a supportive person or submitting them in prayer to Jesus actually helps us access more of our God-given ability to regulate our nervous systems when experiencing distress. These feelings are deep, complex and need to be reverenced by being brought to the light. Silence can exacerbate distress.
We need to call traumatic events what they are. I constantly do this in the counseling room. My client may describe something as “the bad thing that happened,” but I insist on calling it what it is: “the abuse.” I do not do this to torture my clients but to prove to them that they do not have to hold this experience alone, they do not have to be ashamed; it can be spoken. Name your feelings and do not let anyone stop you from saying what happened on May 14: racism and white supremacy, murder and terrorism.
3. Make meaningful connections and contributions. You are made in the image and likeness of God and are called to community. That is always true. It becomes an increasingly important truth in the wake of events that leave us feeling isolated and alone. It is important to consider who in your support network you can connect with in a meaningful way. It is also important to realize that while social media is good in some ways, it is not the type of connection that the human person is made for. There is so much that is perceived from a person when we see them face-to-face, and the brain uses that perception to build empathy. We need to encounter each other.
Name your feelings and do not let anyone stop you from saying what happened on May 14: racism and white supremacy, murder and terrorism.
All of us also need, and want, to make meaningful contributions to the work for justice and true peace. Discern that work in prayer. Contributions that are the fruit of prayer will give you a joy that cannot be taken away.
4. Dealing with the naysayer. You are going to hear it from people: “You’re overreacting.” “Why don’t you seem to care as much about abortion?” “Why don’t you mention other acts of violence where the victims were another race?”
I am often asked why people respond this way to those who speak out against racism and white supremacy. Mental health professionals are not mind readers, but I have some educated guesses about what might motivate the naysayers.
The kingdom of God is not the priority when sins like abortion, the death penalty, racism and white supremacy are spoken of as though they are somehow in competition with one another.
First, I am convinced that while America is struggling with a multitude of sins, the sins of racism and white supremacy have the deepest root in the soil of this land. When you pull up deep roots it feels like the land has been damaged. If I have failed to firmly root myself in the kingdom of God, if I have inadvertently collapsed my faith with my country and rooted myself in America, it will not be pleasant when someone tries to uproot the deepest root.
When we as a country face these realities, we are confronted with a troubling reality: Not only are Black Americans, African Americans and other non-white communities unsafe, but no one is safe. No one is safe in a country where white supremacy and racism are not vehemently rejected by all. In the blink of an eye, the same violence can arrive on the doorstep of any one of us, white and non-white alike.
Lastly, I feel confident that the kingdom of God is not the priority when sins like abortion, the death penalty, racism and white supremacy are spoken of as though they are somehow at odds or in competition with one another. Surely, we know all of these things inflict grave wounds on the sacred heart of Jesus.
As we continue to work in the name of Jesus for justice, let us remember: We already know that Jesus has the final say. Remain in his love, as he asks of us in the Gospel of John. Do not lose sight of the good of face-to-face encounters—the power of being incarnationally present to one another—when working for justice and racial reconciliation. This is where the battle is best won. And above all, let us take time to spend face-to-face with Jesus in the Eucharist. The more of us who abide there, the more this world and this country will look like the kingdom.
