Here is the full text and summary of Sangu Delle’s talk titled “There’s no Shame in Taking Care of Your Mental Health.”
TRANSCRIPT:
Sangu Delle – Entrepreneur
Last year was hell. It was my first time eating Nigerian “jollof.” Actually, in all seriousness, I was going through a lot of personal turmoil. Faced with enormous stress, I suffered an anxiety attack.
On some days, I could do no work. On other days, I just wanted to lay in my bed and cry. My doctor asked if I’d like to speak with a mental health professional about my stress and anxiety.
Mental health? I clammed up and violently shook my head in protest. I felt a profound sense of a shame. I felt the weight of stigma.
I have a loving, supportive family and incredibly loyal friends, yet I could not entertain the idea of speaking to anyone about my feeling of pain. I felt suffocated by the rigid architecture of our African masculinity: “People have real problems, Sangu. Get over yourself!”
The first time I heard “mental health,” I was a boarding school student fresh off the boat from Ghana, at the Peddie School in New Jersey.
I had just gone through the brutal experience of losing seven loved ones in the same month. The school nurse, concerned about what I’d gone through — God bless her soul — she inquired about my mental health. “Is she mental?” I thought. Does she not know I’m an African man? Like Okonkwo in “Things Fall Apart,” we African men neither process nor express our emotions. We deal with our problems.
We deal with our problems. I called my brother and laughed about “Oyibo” people — white people — and their strange diseases — depression, ADD and those “weird things.” Growing up in West Africa, when people used the term “mental,” what came to mind was a madman with dirty, dread-locked hair, bumbling around half-naked on the streets.
We all know this man. Our parents warned us about him.
“Mommy, mommy, why is he mad?”
“Drugs! If you even look at drugs, you end up like him.”
Come down with pneumonia, and your mother will rush you to the nearest hospital for medical treatment. But dare to declare depression, and your local pastor will be driving out demons and blaming witches in your village.
According to the World Health Organization, mental health is about being able to cope with the normal stressors of life; to work productively and fruitfully; and to be able to make a contribution to your community. Mental health includes our emotional, psychological and social well-being.
Globally, 75% of all mental illness cases can be found in low-income countries. Yet most African governments invest less than 1% of their health care budget in mental health. Even worse, we have a severe shortage of psychiatrists in Africa. Nigeria, for example, is estimated to have 200 — in a country of almost 200 million. In all of Africa, 90% of our people lack access to treatment.
As a result, we suffer in solitude, silenced by stigma. We as Africans often respond to mental health with distance, ignorance, guilt, fear and anger. In a study conducted by Arboleda-Flórez, directly asking, “What is the cause of mental illness?” 34% of Nigerian respondents cited drug misuse; 19% said divine wrath and the will of God; 12% witchcraft and spiritual possession.
But few cited other known causes of mental illness, like genetics, socioeconomic status, war, conflict or the loss of a loved one. The stigmatization against mental illness often results in the ostracizing and demonizing of sufferers.
Photojournalist Robin Hammond has documented some of these abuses in Uganda, in Somalia, and here in Nigeria. For me, the stigma is personal.
In 2009, I received a frantic call in the middle of the night. My best friend in the world — a brilliant, philosophical, charming, hip young man — was diagnosed with schizophrenia. I witnessed some of the friends we’d grown up with recoil. I heard the snickers. I heard the whispers.
“Did you hear he has gone mad?” “He has gone crazy!” Derogatory, demeaning commentary about his condition — words we would never say about someone with cancer or someone with malaria.
Somehow, when it comes to mental illness, our ignorance eviscerates all empathy. I stood by his side as his community isolated him, but our love never wavered. Tacitly, I became passionate about mental health. Inspired by his plight, I helped found the mental health special interest alumni group at my college.
And during my tenure as a resident tutor in graduate school, I supported many undergraduates with their mental health challenges. I saw African students struggle and unable to speak to anyone. Even with this knowledge and with their stories in tow, I, in turn, struggled, and could not speak to anyone when I faced my own anxiety, so deep is our fear of being the madman.
All of us — but we Africans especially — need to realize that our mental struggles do not detract from our virility, nor does our trauma taint our strength. We need to see mental health as important as physical health.
We need to stop suffering in silence. We must stop stigmatizing disease and traumatizing the afflicted. Talk to your friends. Talk to your loved ones. Talk to health professionals.
Be vulnerable. Do so with the confidence that you are not alone. Speak up if you’re struggling. Being honest about how we feel does not make us weak; it makes us human. It is time to end the stigma associated with mental illness.
So the next time your hear “mental,” do not just think of the madman. Think of me.
Thank you.
Want a summary of this talk? Here it is.
SUMMARY:
In his speech titled “There’s no Shame in Taking Care of Your Mental Health,” Sangu Delle delivers a powerful message about the importance of addressing mental health issues, particularly within the context of African culture. In this summary, we’ll explore the main points of his talk.
Delle begins by sharing a personal story about his struggle with anxiety and stress, which led to an anxiety attack. He admits that he initially resisted seeking help for his mental health issues due to a profound sense of shame and the weight of societal stigma. This sets the stage for his exploration of the cultural and societal perceptions of mental health in African communities.
He vividly describes how the concept of “mental health” was foreign to him as a young Ghanaian student in the United States. In his upbringing, mental health was often associated with images of madmen, and African men were expected to neither process nor express their emotions. This led to a reluctance to acknowledge or seek help for emotional struggles.
Delle points out a stark contrast in the allocation of resources for mental health, with African governments investing less than 1% of their healthcare budget in mental health services. He highlights the severe shortage of psychiatrists in Africa, resulting in a lack of access to treatment for the majority of the population.
The speaker touches on the negative stereotypes and misconceptions surrounding mental health in African societies, where mental illness is often attributed to divine wrath, witchcraft, or drug misuse. He emphasizes that this stigma leads to the ostracization and demonization of individuals with mental health issues.
Delle’s passion for the topic is deeply personal, as he recounts receiving a call about his best friend being diagnosed with schizophrenia. He witnessed the derogatory reactions and whispers from their community, illustrating how ignorance erases empathy when it comes to mental illness.
The main message of Delle’s talk is clear: it’s time to break the silence surrounding mental health in African communities. He calls for open conversations about mental health, urging individuals to reach out to friends, loved ones, and healthcare professionals. Delle believes that acknowledging mental struggles is not a sign of weakness but of humanity. He advocates for mental health to be treated with the same importance as physical health and encourages an end to the stigma associated with mental illness.
In essence, Sangu Delle’s talk serves as a powerful call to action, urging everyone, especially Africans, to prioritize their mental well-being and to create a more supportive and empathetic society where no one has to suffer in silence.
