Three words stood out to me as I read Los Angeles Lakers coach Darvin Ham’s jarring account of his childhood: “Whoa.”
Those three words were in response to a 14-year-old Ham being shot in the face, resulting in a near-death experience that required an 11-day hospital stay. Those three words. No sweetness and simple. Short and unkind.
Those three words are the language of suppression, a generational tale that suggests one feels nothing. Pain is “weakness leaving the body,” not a signal to your nervous system that something is wrong. A few manage this numbness and shape themselves in a way that generates millions. We exalt these tragedies that presumably turn into triumphs, and are therefore bewildered when that emptiness cries out for help.
“As black people, we don’t get enough therapy,” Ham recalled in an excerpt from the interview that later went viral. “I have PTSD [post-traumatic stress disorder] to this day because of the gunshots that go off, I get shot, everything that happens in my neighborhood. And… we think that it is cowardice or that we are weak if we go to seek help. And we need a lot of help, brother.”
In March, another NBA name offered a perspective from the abyss. Michael Beasley, the No. 2 pick in the 2008 NBA draft, appeared to be in good health when he appeared on an episode of The Pivot podcast. While the 6-foot-9 Beasley towered over former NFL pros Ryan Clark, Fred Taylor and Channing Crowder, on the inside he was falling apart:
“Being black is so [expletive] fake right now. It’s like mother’s sons only care when it’s time for someone to die and the cameras show it. … Motherf—ers are showing every day that they need help. … Everyone here needs help and everyone walks around this other one like they have everything under control.”
Beasley’s comment explained how society not only trivialized black life and death, it commodified it. Even in the midst of other former professional athletes, he seemed isolated and alone. The response to his words was predictable: If Beasley, who made millions during his NBA career, really needed help, why didn’t he get it?
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Empathy eludes us, even as athletes continue to display that celebrity and the promise of financial security isn’t enough. Tyrell Terry, the 31st overall pick in the 2020 NBA draft, cited anxiety as the reason for his withdrawal from the game on December 15.
“Today I decided to leave the game that has formed so much of my identity. Something that has guided my path since I took my first steps. While I’ve made amazing accomplishments, made unforgettable memories and made lifelong friends… I’ve also experienced the darkest moments of my life. To the point that instead of building me up, it began to destroy me. Where I began to despise myself and question the value of myself, far more than those around me could ever see or know.”
For many of us, the personal tragedies of celebrities, which become fodder for public consumption, are a stopping point. We see them as the endgame, as the space for reflection pieces, thoughts and prayers, for controlling “strong friends.” When we do this, we neglect the plight of our neighbors, the people with whom we interact and share experiences far more than those who live in the spotlight. We ignore the stocking shelves of young brotha, or the homeless man who works 40+ hour weeks, and instead discuss mental health through the myopic view of celebrity worship.
Perhaps we should start the mental health discussion through the realities of unrepentant capitalism and, as far as black men are concerned, look at the effects of racism on our collective psyche. As a parent of young black children, I’m always ambivalent when people come up to me and tell me how cute they are, because I’m aware of the fine line between a toddler and 12-year-old Tamir Rice from Cleveland. who was shot by a police officer. The burden of adulthood imposed on black youth has in some cases become a death sentence. He talks about the stereotypes attributed to black men in general: wild, stupid, crazy about sex.
The cruelty of racism and the commodification of capitalism, where we treat human life as expendable, is wearing black men down. A heartbreaking headline accompanied a February report on the suicide rate for black men, which was rising faster than any other racial group: No Way Out? Therapist Nettie Jones explained how black men often “suffer in silence.”
“They don’t seek the help that women sometimes seek,” Jones said. “We will call our girlfriends, we will let them know that things are not good. Unfortunately, black men tend not to do that. They hold back, they self-medicate, they are workaholics. The kind of things that aren’t very healthy.”
There are few outlets that focus on the experience of black men in a way other than for entertainment, save for those that engage in the field of research known as black men’s studies. A compelling 2020 article in the Journal of Black Studies titled Premature Deaths of Young Black Males in the United States offered this caveat in its summary: “Mass suicide-homicide murders, premature deaths, and death disparities among young blacks , from 15 to 24, in the United States is not paranoid propaganda. Without question, it is a disturbing public health crisis that requires an urgent national response to reverse and ultimately eradicate the premature death of black youth.”
The article, which charted the death rate for black men from 1950 to 2010, noted that death rates rose after social justice movements and in the presence of race-based policies.
It makes me think that black men should prioritize community over competition and civil rights over celebrity. That is certainly difficult in a capitalist society, where we compete for finite resources. Even in the world of sports, which contains the rhetoric of brotherhood, we see the exploitative nature of the games we consume. “Only the strong survive,” we declare, which does not contribute to the healing work we need in our community. Instead, those words provide cover for the controversial practices that occur in professional and collegiate athletics.
Civil rights activist Martin Luther King said in 1958 that “profitmaking, when it is the sole foundation of an economic system, fosters ruthless competition and selfish ambition that inspires men to care more about earning a living than about earning a living.” for earning a living.” Fittingly, a decade later, King centered his latest move in Memphis, Tennessee, on four words: I am a man.
We need a lot of help, sure. Dignity is a start. We must treat mental health not as the failings of individuals, but as a clear indictment of a system that puts profit over people, and historically so with regard to the work of black men.
I think of a common greeting among strangers, particularly those of the black male variety: the nod. It’s a gesture of shared kinship and the calamity of being black in America. What is understood does not have to be explained, but it should be. A nod is humble, almost conciliatory. When it comes to our collective destiny, we must be stronger.
Ken J. Makin is a freelance writer and host of the Makin’ A Difference podcast. Before and after commenting, he is thinking of his wife and children.
An estimated 31.9 percent of today’s youth experience some type of anxiety disorder, according to “Challenges of Mental-health Issues in High School Athletics” on the National Federation of State High School Associations website. (NFHS).
What makes elite athletes different from everyone?
The result of your muscles firing in better sequences and in quicker succession to each other is what we call coordination. Elite athletes have excellent coordination and it is the main reason why they can perform very difficult tasks with such ease.
What differentiates elite athletes? What distinguishes the best athletes? To see also : ‘Art is History’: President of the National Endowment for the Arts Visits Alabama’s Black Belt Artists.
- Discipline. One of the most important qualities of an elite athlete is discipline. …
- Consistent Hard Work. All athletes work hard, consistently. …
- Sacrifice. All elite athletes sacrifice. …
- Honesty. The best athletes are honest. …
- Resume.
How are the athletes different from normal athletes?
Outward appearance and body shape may be different between an athlete and a non-athlete. An athletic body is comparatively more muscular and less fat than a regular body. The physical capacity and flexibility of an athlete can exceed the body, which is not in an exercise of daily sports activity.
What makes someone an elite athlete?
Successful elite athletes are inevitably naturally gifted and will likely have an underlying genetic predisposition for high-level physical performance. On the same subject : URL to IRL: Dirty Bird is building a dance music community, one beat at a time. However, success also requires countless hours of physical training and specific interventions aimed at maximizing performance.
What separates the elite athletes from the rest?
What makes the difference and launches athletes to the next level is WORK! Getting down to business is not limited to working hard in practice. Read also : Opinion: Boston’s checkered history with its greatest sports icon. The work also includes preparation (diet, flexibility, strength training) and, most importantly, mental work (confidence building, concentration skills, stress management, etc.).
Are pro athletes stressed?
Professional athletes are under so much pressure to perform that it can create a lot of stress. Many of them, however, have found tricks to manage stress.
How do professional athletes deal with stress? Healthy ways for athletes to deal with stress are to engage in enjoyable activities, take care of your body, maintain a positive outlook, laugh, practice relaxation techniques, talk to others, and get help from a professional.
Do pro athletes get anxious?
Sports performance anxiety, also called sports anxiety or competitive anxiety, is incredibly common. Estimates suggest that between 30 and 60 percent of athletes experience it, according to a 2019 review.
Are professional athletes nervous?
Professional athletes are human, just like the rest of us. They feel the same nervousness, “butterflies” or physiological stress that everyone else has felt in “pressure” situations. Pressure, no matter where it comes from, can have a direct impact on an athlete’s performance.
How stressful is it being a professional athlete?
There is no question, professional athletes are under an extreme amount of stress. There is a lot of pressure to perform like a professional athlete, put your personal problems on the back burner, be a good role model to the kids, and recover from injuries in the shortest amount of time possible.
Are elite athletes more prone to depression?
The top quartile of elite swimmers had depression scores that were nearly double those of their respective competitors. Athletes who fail or lose during a competition are also more likely to experience depression.
Are elite athletes more prone to mental health problems? Reflexes. – Current and former athletes seem more predisposed to both sleep and mental health disorders. – Involuntary withdrawal, high athletic identity, and social withdrawal after leaving the sport can trigger or exacerbate psychological distress and sleep problems.
Are athletes more prone to depression?
Depression. Athletes may be more predisposed to depression compared to the general population and suggests that this is due to the physical and psychological demands placed on them by the sporting environment [32].
Do elite athletes suffer from depression?
Research has suggested that professional athletes had the same or higher risk of depression than the general population [25â29,33,35,87â91].
How many elite athletes suffer from depression?
Professional and elite athletes also face mental health issues, with data indicating that approximately 35% of elite athletes experience disordered eating, burnout, depression, and/or anxiety.
What is the greatest fear of an athlete?
Most of the time, an athlete’s fear is to avoid bad results, either before or during a performance. Athletes often fear the negative consequences of poor or less than perfect performance. Athletes worry about letting down their team or coach.
