Over the years, I’ve sat in rooms full of brilliant, gifted, emotionally exhausted Black men. Whether entrepreneurs, creatives, or fathers, they shared a common thread. All of these men were suffering in silence.
When the laughs were loud, the weight was louder.
Even though they seemed good, deep down they were wondering:
Am I enough?
Will anyone care if I disappear?
How did I get so lost inside my own mind?
I want to speak to that version of Black men—those who quietly suffer. The ones who thinks healing is a luxury. For too long, we’ve been handed a blueprint for manhood that taught us to suppress, deny, and endure—but not to heal.
That has to change.
In the early 80s, the suicide rate among Black male teens (ages 15–19) rose by 146% over a 15-year span. By the early ’90s, we were seeing peak suicide rates—nearly 49 per 100,000 in some regions. That’s nearly four times the national average. Fast forward to now: from 2020 to 2021 alone, the suicide rate for Black males rose another 11%. Today, suicide is the third leading cause of death for Black youth aged 10 to 24.
The third.
Let that sink in.
These aren’t just numbers. These are our sons. Our cousins. Our brothers. Ourselves.
So what’s causing this?
It’s deeply rooted. I could take it back to slavery and epigenetics. But let’s start with structural racism, generational trauma, economic inequality, and emotional isolation.
In the ’80s and ’90s, it was the crack epidemic, mass incarceration, and welfare reform—policies that ripped through Black communities like hurricanes.
In the 2000s and beyond, it’s been technological shifts, the widening wealth gap, and the constant visibility of Black death on every screen.
We’ve been surviving in a system that was never built to support our wholeness.
But awareness is the first step. If we’re not aware, we can’t take action.
We’ve normalized emotional numbness. We’ve been taught to “tough it out” instead of talk it out. That kind of unchecked toughness becomes toxic. Until we learn to nurture ourselves—to embrace our wholeness, including our emotional and spiritual needs—we’ll keep breaking silently.
Healing isn't a weakness. It’s restoration.
It’s transformation.
It’s a repositioning of the soul.
I know because I’ve been doing the work.
I’ve leaned into therapy. Plant medicine. Healing retreats. Yoga. Eastern wellness practices like tai chi. I’ve cried. Journaled. Prayed. Asked for help. Worked out. And even after all of that, I still consider myself a work in progress.
Healing isn’t linear. It’s not a quick fix. Some wounds go deeper than others—and that’s okay. You’re not late. You’re not weak. You’re just in the process.
We need balance—especially for our young brothers. From the music to the algorithms, they’re getting hit harder than we ever did. We’re living in a new kind of crack era—but 21st century crack is the media that focuses on sensationalized clickbait on the internet. It’s pulling our youth further from self every single day.
That’s why we need more spaces where we can be seen and safe.
More Black male therapists. More culturally competent care.
More mentorship circles. More conversations that start with “How are you really doing, fam?” and end with “I got you.” — and actually mean that.
We need healthier media that speaks life into our people. That shows our young men they’re more than hustle culture or YN fantasies. That manhood isn’t measured in money or bodies—but in wholeness, wisdom, and emotional freedom.
And if you’re a leader, a mentor, a connector—your responsibility is even greater.
Your vulnerability is someone else’s permission.
Your healing becomes someone else’s hope.
Don’t wait for a crisis to make healing your priority.
Make it your daily practice.
We don’t have to keep dying with our silence.
Let’s speak.
Let’s share.
Let’s save each other.
Our lives—and our futures—are worth it.
Ways to Start Healing Today
- Talk to someone. A therapist. A friend. A spiritual guide. Just start.
- Journal daily. Morning or night—get the thoughts out of your head.
- Move your body. Walk. Stretch. Lift. Dance. Let the movement release what words can’t.
- Try breathwork or meditation. Give your nervous system space to reset.
- Limit social media. Detox your timeline. Protect your energy.
- Join a brotherhood circle or healing space. Don’t do this alone.
- Pray. Reflect. Return to Source. Your spirit needs food too.