Thanks For (not) Understanding: Microaggressions & Mental Illness
How Well-Meaning People Invalidate And Further Marginalize Mental Illness
When Good People Do Bad Things
I live with mental illness — depression and anxiety to be precise — and I try my best to be transparent about that experience. I understand that not everyone would, could, or even should be so open, but I do so in order that something good might come of my struggles. I’m sure some of my family and friends would rather I keep my diagnoses under wraps, but my belief is that I have nothing about which to be ashamed. Mental illness isn’t a moral failing or a character defect. It’s an illness.
Sure, society claims that stigma should be removed from mental illness and seeking treatment. That’s certainly progress, I guess. However, the careless words and actions of even the most well-meaning and supportive folks still cut deeply and show the disdain with which society continues to view mental illness.
For example, when I shared that I had a history of depression with one mental health professional, he asked, “Why?”
Why? Really? It’s an illness, you ass-hat. My brain functions differently than most brains. It’s not that there’s something I’ve said or done or experienced that caused my illness. It’s not my fault! I shouldn’t have to prove that I have a right to experience depression. Where did you get your credentials — a Cracker Jack box? Geez!
Here’s another example: after more than a year of therapy focused on a toxic situation, I (in consultation with my therapist) decided it was time for a difficult, but necessary change. Then two loved ones tell me that based on what they’ve read, they think it’s the depression causing me to make this decision and that maybe I just need to “pray on it” some more.
I know they’re trying to be supportive. I know they want the best for me. Yet somehow, they believe I should put their opinion (based on Google searches and a couple of self-help books) above my own (nearly two decades of) experience and the education and experience of the licensed therapist treating me?
Again, I totally appreciate any time spent attempting to understand my mental illnesses — I really do. However, they don’t seem to realize that their “advice” implies:
- Living with a mental illness must mean I’m incapable of thinking critically and coming to a sound decision. (Somehow, they know better than I do what I need, want, and feel.)
- My mood disorders somehow cancel out all my other abilities (but only in the case where I’m making a decision that makes them uncomfortable).
- Everything I do and every emotion I feel must be attributable to mental illness. (Grieving a loss must mean I’m having a depressive episode. Being nervous about public speaking must be a sign that my anxiety is out of control.)
- My depression and anxiety persist because I must not be spiritual enough.
Once More For Those In The Back — It’s An ILLNESS
When someone breaks their arm, do we suggest they shouldn’t talk about it in public? Would we tell them they’d get better if only they’d stop babying the injury — just take of the cast and “fake it ‘till you make it”? Would we recommend an herbal supplement, tea, or dietary change as the cure? Would we chastise them for not having enough faith to be healed?
Of course not!
We’d expect that person to seek treatment from a medical professional. If there’s a diagnosis of the arm being fractured, we’d assume the injured person would follow the medical professional’s guidance based on their expertise as well as the unique specifics of this patient’s case.
Yes, there are commonalities amongst patients with fractures. However, some injuries are so minor as to require very little medical intervention, and some are so complex, they require pins and screws and multiple surgeries. Just knowing a patient’s basic diagnosis doesn’t mean that you know the full story.
We also wouldn’t second guess their every action or decision just because we’re aware of a physical infirmity, would we?
Are you sure you can handle parenting decisions right now? I mean, you do have a broken arm, so… Maybe you should give it some more thought before signing that field trip permission slip. I’m just saying…
There’s A Name For That
MICROAGGRESSION. It’s a pretty big word — five syllables and 15 letters. It sounds extremely academic and clinical. So, I understand why some people find the term off-putting or intimidating. Others dislike the term because they believe it plays into a victimhood mentality.
The term was originally only applied to racial prejudices and its use was limited to the halls (and peer-reviewed journals) of academia. However, it has spread all over social media and journalism and is now extended to other marginalized groups.
But what does it mean? According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary:
“microaggression: a comment or action that subtly and often unconsciously or unintentionally expresses a prejudiced attitude toward a member of a marginalized group (such as a racial minority)” [1]
But, I find that definition lacks a key aspect that makes microaggressions so pernicious:
“Microaggressions are the everyday verbal, nonverbal, and environmental slights, snubs, or insults, whether intentional or unintentional, which communicate hostile, derogatory, or negative messages to target persons based solely upon their marginalized group membership.” [2]
These subtle, seemingly innocuous acts or comments occur so frequently that they become a key aspect of the experience of marginalization. Taken individually, none of these occurrences seem particularly harmful. However, it’s the cumulative nature of microaggressions that makes them so detrimental.
Wait, Society’s Policing Unintentional ATTITUDES?
Hear me out. Before you accuse me of being too politically correct, understand that the purpose of labeling words and behavior as “microaggressions” isn’t to belittle or shame. The goal is to help raise awareness — to educate about the biases that go unrecognized and unacknowledged.
I’m not here to police your speech or judge you (though, as a professor, I totally judge grammatical errors — totally). I just want you to pause and try reframing your thoughts about mental illness.
You want to be supportive, right? You think you’re coming from a good place? That’s a great starting point, however good intentions don’t absolve you of the effects of your words and deeds. Therefore, stop and think to yourself:
- Is what I’m about to say or do likely to empower the recipient?
- Will this help them feel heard and understood?
- Will this undermine their strides toward healing, growth, and independence?
- Am I unconsciously patronizing them and sabotaging their confidence in their own abilities?
- Am I offering layperson advice in a situation that would be better handled by a mental health professional?
- Am I building myself up at their expense? Am I enabling dependence so that I feel needed?
Just as racial (and other) microaggressions serve to reinforce existing power dynamics, so do mental health microaggressions. Words CAN and DO hurt, especially when their targets are regularly inundated by these subtle digs.
Personally, I would prefer to be asked about my experience rather than have someone jump to incorrect (and often insulting) conclusions.
But, maybe it’s just me…
For more information, see “5 Common Microaggressions Against Those With Mental Illness” by Monica A. Frank, Ph.D.
[1] Microaggression. (n.d.). Retrieved October 25, 2017, from https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/microaggression
[2] Sue, D. W., Ph.D. (2010, November 17). Microaggressions: More than Just Race. Retrieved October 25, 2017, from https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/microaggressions-in-everyday-life/201011/microaggressions-more-just-race
