Somebody must go first

[Music]

when it comes to mental health

the conversations are usually

not so simple and within the black

community the conversations

are usually non-existent

black and ethnic minority groups tend to

be less likely to seek

mental health support why

because we are fine take me for example

dad’s really sick i’m fine

dad’s dead okay so

i was sad for a moment there because you

know it’s socially

acceptable to be sad when someone dies

and i was only 18 but now

i’m fine daughter’s dad left me

i’m fine child’s life-changing diagnosis

i’m fine miscarriage one

i’m fine miscarriage two i’m fine

miscarriage three

i’m fine i’m fine i am

fine except i’m not fine of course i’m

not fine how

could i be fine i am rachel

i have anxiety and depression and i

stand before you today as an example of

a black woman a black person

who did not seek help until i hit

rock bottom and even then even though

i was living proof of the fact that

black women

are more likely than our white

counterparts to experience mental health

issues

if you had asked me how i was i would

have told you

that i am fine i told the first doctor

who tried to give me a stress related

sick note that i was fine too

and i got away with it overly

emotional things like depression aren’t

really a black thing

in fact the idea is memeable

depressed who where for what

but i knew some things didn’t didn’t

quite feel right

my supplement drawer was overflowing

with

all of the vitamins and minerals under

the sun because i knew that whatever it

was

that needed to be fixed was inside me

but i woke up one morning with a really

terrible headache went to the gp

expecting to be sent away with some

painkillers and some sleeping pills

because i was

very tired

but instead i left with a sick note

an antidepressant prescription and a

little card

with the contact details for counselling

it has been proven that black

communities are less likely to be

referred to

talking therapies and more likely to be

medicated

when it comes to mental health issues

but i was one of the lucky ones because

i

was offered both my mum

flushed away the antidepressants that

her doctor tried to give her

many years ago when she came to england

from the caribbean

and she rebuked the entire

depression thing in the name of jesus

there was no mention of talking

therapies for her and

even if there had been the offer would

have been declined because she

was fine you see my mum grew up with the

belief that to have mental health issues

meant that you were crazy and the crazy

people got locked up in the asylum

that had bars in the window and they

received electric shock therapy

there was absolutely no way

my mum was going to associate herself

with any of that when

britain’s best love boxer in my humble

opinion

suffered a nervous breakdown in 2003 the

sun

newspaper decided it would be a

brilliant idea to run with the

front page headline bonkers

bruno locked up and according to them

he was locked up because he was

depressed

my mum grew up with this story

different country different time

same narrative the crazy people

get locked up

i grew up surrounded by what i perceive

to be

strong black role models just getting on

with life

and that is what i tried to emulate

my sister went to university passing

with a

two one what i saw was her just getting

on with it

what i did was compliment her on her

figure

what i missed was the fact that she was

hearing voices in her head

and her drastic weight loss was due to

stress

but she said she was fine we were all

fine apart from the fact that we were

all

most definitely living

with high functioning depression

let me explain in public i was great at

being fine

i pretended to be fine really

really really well to the outside world

i was in control i had it together

i was the epitome of

black girl magic because that

is what i was supposed to be

for me the hashtag created on twitter in

2013

had become both a badge of honor that i

did not

ever want to lose and a

noose around my neck that i wanted

to loosen just

a little pressure

how could i be seen to have

issues and also

be magical the captions posted for the

world to see

never said had a mental breakdown black

girl magic

that was not a thing

the breakdowns would happen alone

mentally and physically drained from

having been

normal all day

i would step out of my clothes and into

my bed

wake up freshen up slay the day all

black girl magically

come home and repeat

but the inside of my brain was like an

unstable mental health edition

of jenga which i continued

to stack up until it all

came crashing down

my dad was a part of that tower

he’d retired early due to ill health and

as a result he was usually home when i

got home from school

he couldn’t walk very far or even

talk towards the end and

there were oxygen tanks dotted around

the house that he would hook himself up

to

when he found it really hard to breathe

and there were the times when i would

come home from school

and he’d be sitting in his armchair

alone

in the dark but he said he was fine and

i chose to allow him to be

just that because he was my dad

a good strong proud

black man i used to avoid visiting him

in hospital

because i didn’t want him to have to be

vulnerable

in front of me and i definitely

did not want my last image of him

to be him hooked up to machines

in a hospital bed

on the night i ran out with my friends

dad had made a huge pot of chicken soup

with extra dumplings and

he was sitting in his armchair when i

left

and he was fine

and then he was dead

and the next day or maybe even the day

after that

i sat sipping on the last ever

chicken soup that my dad would ever make

and after 18 years of living in the same

house as him i was forced to admit

just how far from fine

he had been but not me though

at the funeral i was strong

i was even proud of the fact that i’d

been brave

and not made too much of a scene i just

added the event to the ever-growing

jenga tower in my head

and persevered

it wasn’t the first but the second

attempt at calling a spade a spade

that saw me accept the depression

diagnosis my first counselor was another

black girl who appeared to be

around my age and although most would

assume

that these similarities would have been

a comfort for

me they were a nightmare it was

embarrassing

i felt ashamed and i wanted to leave

immediately the

thought of her knowing that i

wasn’t the stereotypical

strong black woman oozing

an endless stream of black girl magic

out of my paws made

me feel sick

far as i was concerned she knew the

narrative that i was supposed to be

living by

like maya angelou said in her poem we

rise no matter what’s going on

we rise i have the word

tattooed onto my wrist a permanent

reminder of the

fact we rise

if i opened up to this counselor

fully then she would know

that i was failing so i didn’t

she didn’t catch me at the right time in

my journey

the second counselor was a much better

fit for me

then perhaps i could speak more openly

to my kin

now i’ve done the prep work

there are levels to this so many

of the bumps in my road involved

conversations with healthcare

professionals

but we will never know for sure

if any of them would have caught me

before

i fell i have had multiple miscarriages

i

am one in 100 but

every time after carefully making sure

that there was definitely

no remnants of what was supposed to be

my tiny baby

left in my room nobody checked on my

brain

i lived in a children’s hospital with my

daughter

for six months commuting from there to

work

and back again after being discharged as

a single mom

i was expected to administer her daily

painful injections by myself

i couldn’t cope so why

did i have to fight for the right to

change her treatment

the doctors and nurses were outstanding

with my daughter she was so happy

in their care but nobody checked in with

me

i often wonder if the people caring for

my dad

knew that i was there at home

was anybody wondering how i was feeling

what the impact of seeing my strong

proud

loving dad deteriorate might be

probably not because we were all fine

and the right questions

weren’t being asked at the right time

when i first called to book my

counseling sessions

i remember being asked have you

had suicidal thoughts and of course i

said no

because i had no intention of killing

myself

but if i’d been asked

if sometimes i wished i wasn’t

here

or if sometimes i thought that maybe

it might be kind of

wonderful if i just

happened to go to sleep

and just not wake up the next day

then my answer would have been

yes often

when it comes to suicide in the uk

middle-aged men are at highest risk

my dad never made up the numbers

that make up that statistic because

his suicide attempt failed

i didn’t even know it happened

i wasn’t even too young

it’s just that not visiting him in

hospital was my normal

and we didn’t talk about it and now

we can’t talk about it

there are so many conversations that i

wish i’d had with my dad so many

conversations

i wish i’d had with my dad

and so many questions that i wish i’d

asked

so many things that i wish

i’d explained one in four

adults and one in ten children

experienced mental health issues

he was one in four

and i was one in ten

there are so many conversations i wish

i’d had with my dad

but somebody needed to go first

i am now one in four and my

daughter is eleven i am

hoping that if she is one in ten

she will know for sure

that she can talk to me

i try to lead by example i can do this

we can do this

when i ask how are you feeling

i mean how are you

feeling i’m fine

is not the full stop i’m fine is just

the beginning my daughter

is the beginning of a new narrative

for us or maybe

[Music]

the news story started with me

the i in the word rise that i have

permanently etched onto my skin

is a semicolon

a semicolon is used when an author

could have decided to end their sentence

but chose not to i

am the author and the sentence

is my life i

persevere i am

strong enough to be vulnerable and

brave enough to go first

i am rachel

i’m not always fine and still

i rise i have

anxiety and depression

and still i rise

sometimes the world feels

a little bit heavy

and still i rise

isn’t that just a little bit

magical

[Applause]