Non-Western Perspectives: Mental Health

THE PUBLIC HEALTH ZINE MARCH

2018

NON-WESTERN PERSPECTIVES: MENTAL HEALTH

To a world in which our mental health is as respected as our physical health.

Where students of color feel uplifted in seeking support on our own terms.

Know that you are invaluable, and far from forgotten.

I N D E X Written Pieces Redefining Mental Health –– Language, Emotion, and Culture...............2

by Maddy Lowry Roots..........................................................................................................4

by Aminah Isiaq Weathering................................................................................................. 6

by Aliyah Daniels From West Africa to NOLA......................................................................7

by Liv Arriviello Smiling Murder..........................................................................................9

by Anfernee Murray Mental Health and Katrina.......................................................................10

by Franny Senkowski Stall .........................................................................................................12

by Zahra Saifudeen Art Megan Wolfkill.................................................Front/Back Cover, 2, 4, 12

Layout Design Agatha Magierski

Editors Lauren Allen Sarah Scribner

Editors-in-Chief Praveena Fernes Alexis Martin This month’s theme explores non-Western perspectives on mental health, as these are often underrepresented, misunderstood, and do not match with adequate resources and support. Our collection includes personal anecdotes, including poetry and design, as well as evidence-based pieces. Though many students of color contributed to this edition, these pieces are by no means the singular voice of very nuanced communities. We are however beholden to providing a platform from which conversation inclusive of underrepresent experiences may be cultivated. The Tulane Undergraduate Public Health Department is honored to share students’ voices and effectively shed light on non- Western perspectives on mental health.

Redefining Mental Health –– Language, Emotion, and Culture

by Maddy Lowry

Most of us in the United States are brought up to believe that all human beings share a core set of emotions, including feelings such as anger, fear, sadness, disgust, and happiness. Yet, according to researcher Lisa Barrett, this is not the case. Instead, she argues that people have four basic internal sensations (what she calls “interoception”): pleasantness, unpleasantness, arousal, and calmness. She explains, “for every emotion category that we have in the U.S. that we think is biologically basic and universal, there's at least one culture in the world that doesn't really possess a concept for that emotion.” The nuance and complexity that exist from our emotional lives are not internal, but actually learned through concepts that we acquire growing up. A child who is worked up over their toy having been stolen by another child is told that what they are feeling is called “anger.” As we get older, we keep learning new concepts that deepen our understandings of how we feel in relation to the world—ideas such as jealousy or nostalgia. Furthermore, there are emotional concepts that exist in other cultures that have no analog in the US. “Liget” is an emotion that exists in some

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communities in the Philippines. (cont...)

It is very complex, but it is a powerful emotion of high arousal (negative or positive) that can only be expressed in relation to other people in a community.

So, what does this mean? If emotions are culturally constructed, then they will necessarily vary from culture to culture. This has important implications for how we understand mental and emotional health cross-culturally. Hal Arkowitz of Scientific American states that experts conclusively agree that “culture can shape the overt expression of mental illness in significant ways.” Maanvi Singh of National Public Radio (NPR) explains that people in different countries don’t have the same understandings of mental illnesses as we do in the United States. She shares, “in Nepal, India and Pakistan, people distinguish between the physical brain — or dimaag — and what they refer to as the mann, or ‘heartmind.’” This means that a treatment approach that situates mental distress as a problem of the physical brain will be ineffective, as people will conceptualize it as a form of permanent physical damage. We can also reverse the roles: imagine a doctor from the Philippines coming to the United States and asking if her patients were experiencing “liget.” She would probably be met with blank stares.

Though this research is still in its nascence, it is clear that doctors must consider culture when approaching solutions to mental health and adjust their language and expectations appropriately.

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The Roots

by Aminah Isiaq

The term “mental health” did not exist in the lexicon of the 1970’s Lagos, Nigeria that my mother grew up in. She told me that, in Nigeria, if someone displayed the symptoms that in American society would be attributed to clinical issues, their abnormal behavior would be assigned to supernatural forces, or “The Roots.” More than 99% of Nigerians identify as Christian or Muslim. Congruently, many are also animists who believe that natural entities hold spiritual power. summer,

Last my family flew in a professor from a Nigerian university to give lectures during the month of Ramadan at the mosque my family attends. His first few weeks stateside went smoothly until the day he attempted to buy phone cards at a local pharmacy to call his family that was still in Nigeria. When he walked up to the pharmacy counter, he was told that his credit card was rejected. He began verbally and then physically harassing the other patrons. He began pushing, punching, and even biting them, requiring multiple police officers to restrain him until he could be transferred to a psychiatric hospital under an involuntary hold.

When his family in Nigeria was contacted about the incident, it was discovered that he had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, He had stopped taking his medications. Additionally, the particularly brutal Ramadan of 2017 couldn't have helped. That year, the ninth holy month of the Islamic calendar encompassed the summer solstice when of age and healthy Muslims were expected to abstain from eating or drinking during the nearly 15 hours of daily sunlight.

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Those with an illness are neither expected nor required to participate in the fast; however, the professor did not consider himself sick. Within traditional Nigerian culture/ideology, one becomes a victim of a curse or possession due to their actions. This means that those experiencing psychiatric distress feel ashamed and discouraged from reaching out.

They’re often shunned by family and peers.

My parents and their peers treated the entire incident with discretion, but the gossip spread throughout most of the community. While various people (whom my mom identifies as more mainstream through education and exposure to Western culture) understood the incident to be medical, the negative stigma persists in many Nigerian-American immigrants. During my mother's multiple visits to the psychiatric ward to bring the professor home cooked meals, she met the daughter of an immigrant who was also a patient. Academic stress had caused her to break down. She had been discouraged and shamed by her mother for receiving treatment.

My parents have adopted a more Western ideology towards mental health, but I still see traces of the negative stigma and shame in their opinions.

When I tell my parents about the issues that many of my friend's face, I still see their thinly veiled dismissiveness and invalidation. I hid from my parents that I started going to CAPS. I was worried how they would perceive me. I was worried that they’d think I was overreacting or making a big deal out of simple issues. I know that they wouldn’t think I was the victim of a ritual attack, but I can’t help but believe that they’d struggle not to fault themselves or be ashamed of having a daughter with such a culturally embarrassing affliction.

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Weathering

by Aliyah Daniels

Weather me down, Storm upon my body Strike down my thunder thighs.

Too big, too bold, too black, too much.

The pressure to condense myself Bursting Through The Brim Weather me down, Withered and wilted and wounded and whipped.

Force me to obey.

Suppress my existence and strangle my pride.

My dignity is shackled Behind the shadows Of torture and beatings and floggings and rape.

How can I hope for triumph?

That pain is branded on my calloused skin.

Impossible to escape, I’m unable to heal Struggling to breathe.

Suffocated by false progress and the promise of freedom.

Weather me down, Scrape the ridges of my womanhood, Burn the depths of my brownness.

Dirtied and eroded and hard and raw.

I’m torn and exposed, Vulnerability spilling out But the pressure to depress Sinking, Releasing.

I am more than a page in your history book More than an accessory, More than a caricature, Or some thing to pet.

I am eternal,

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And I will rise.

From West Africa to NOLA

by Liv Arriviello

Photo provided by Praveena Fernes

Some 50 years ago, Big Queen Cherice Harrison-Nelson of the Maroon Society -formerly known as the Mardi Gras Indians or the Guardians of the Flame – sat in Mrs. Calamary’s third-grade class at William Hertz Elementary School. When her teacher asked the students what their ideal trip would be, the Queen was confused by the unanimous shouts of “Disney World.” It was the booming drums in West Africa that called to her eight-year-old self and continue to speak to her today.

Queen Cherice would finally take her dream trip on a Fulbright Scholarship to Ghana where she would encounter a spiritual woman boldly clad in white face paint moving, trancelike, to the thunderous clap of the drums. Of her time spent in Africa – specifically at the Door of No Return in the Isle of Goree Sengal Cherice recalled feeling as though her feet were “unshackled,” while standing in the threshold of “no return.” It was as though she were in “a whirlwind... [she] heard words that [she] didn’t know what they meant but ... knew it was the ancestors, [she] knew what is was in [her] heart.” (cont...)

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Her ancestors were saying “I got you,” on her journey that would lead her far from the Disney World of her third-grade classmates.

Ancestral reverence and community-based healing are articles of mental health not explored in Western perspectives of mental health. This unwavering connection between the conscious and unconscious offers a way to cope with unrest which one cannot find on psychiatrist’s prescription pad. Spirituality exists in an adaptable state of flux, much like that of human existence, to form an omnipotent - yet invisible – body of support which is transcendent to life itself.

The Queen now finds herself rooted in the strong ancestral support of the Iroko Tree and within the Orisha Goddess Oya of winds, storms, rebirth, and maternal protection. In her own words, Oya is a “bad mama-jama.” To demonstrate the force of the spiritual connection with Oya, the Queen made Oya the focus of her suit this year for the Mardi Gras —a lengthy process that Queen Cherice considers (albeit challenging) a form of self-care. In her eyes, picking up the needle and thread creates some type of meditative tunnel into the beads and separates oneself from both internal and external chaos. Despite this calming effect, it nevertheless reminds her of the unchanging deadline of carnival season or those dear to her who have recently become ancestors.

The process, the Queen explains “that’s for me, that end process is for sharing.” She then went on to explain how masking truly isn’t masking at all, for it is a reflection of that story of the simultaneously modern and ancient ancestral stories made flesh in you. This year’s suit in tribute to Oya who exists in “the marrow of my bones.” Queen Cherice, even with Oya pulsating through her, admits that she need take more time to tell herself that she is loved, and further, have the conversation one can only have with oneself, that is to say: “I love who you are.”

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Smiling Murder

by Anfernee Murray It killed me.

What did I have? I couldn’t tell you. But neither could those so-called professionals.

They will tell you they “did all that they could.” But in reality, they had no idea how to help me. They knew they could do no worse to me than to the corpses they examine under magnified eyes.

My mother told me to stay home; that she would treat it the best way she knew how. I thought I knew better than what my people had been doing for years. I deserved better than some home remedy.

But they said they had a cure. A treatment for what had been ailing me all this time.

But a cure for what? A treatment for what? I went in for a cough and a skin infection and came out with an unidentifiable malady.

Apparently, their magnified eyes could see the invisible. They saw what I had, but refused to give it a name.

“It would only make things worse,” they said. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

They assured me that they’d handle it. But now I see they were only assuring themselves. Assuring themselves they could fix it. Fix me.

They say they’re saving me. Ha. They were more focused on identifying what I allegedly had. They wanted to protect their people. They needed to bury it before it emerged again and ruined their names. They were going to erase what was wrong.

They would remove it. Remove me.

They dared not to give it a name. A name gave it identity. Gave it power. Gave it reason to exist.

This is why they had to kill it. Kill me.

They gave me pills – two blues, one red – and told me to relax while the medicine took effect.

My mother’s voice rang in my ears, “Don’t go. I’ll take care of you.”

But the damage was already done. If I hadn’t gone to them, they would have come to me.

All I would remember was their smiles. They dealt with it.

They killed me.

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Mental Health and Katrina

by Franny Senkowski

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I jam the lock in place before the tile hits my body as I collapse to the ground. My fingers comb through my hair as I find the corner of the stall.

I pull my back into the wall.

I pull my legs into my stomach.

I am an undesirable thing, taking up as little space as an undesirable thing could take up.

Tears fall and fall and breaths shorten and shorten and My body gasps for air.

My mind condemns the dramatics knowing all too well that I’m receiving more than enough air.

It’s not pretty but it makes a good show, I guess. Silent screaming could help, but remember public space.

It’s not all about me after all.

I scream in silence, as my head bangs against the wall.

My body releases, as I, a decrepit thing, lay on the floor of a bathroom stall, eyes blank.

The sound of familiar footsteps approach and a head peaks below the stall.

“Are you okay?”

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Stall

by Zahra Saifudeen

Resource Guide

(not a comprehensive list, but a start!)

In New Orleans

BreakOUT!

"BreakOUT! seeks to end the criminalization of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and questioning (LGBTQ) youth to build a safer and more just New Orleans."

Check out their website at: http://www.youthbreakout.org/our-space/

Women With a Vision "Created by and for women of color, WWAV is a social justice non-profit that addresses issues faced by women within our community and region...We envision an environment in which there is no war against women’s bodies, in which women have spaces to come together and share their stories, in which women are empowered to make decisions concerning their own bodies and lives, and in which women have the necessary support to realize their hopes, dreams, and full potential."

Check out their website at: http://wwav-no.org/programs

On Campus Student Resources and Support Services (SRSS) To file a concerns report, visit: tulane.edu/concerns or call SRSS at 504-920-9900

Some spaces offered through the Office of Multicultural Affairs (OMA): Kick Back at the O, The Relaxation and Prayer Room, Wednesdays at the O OR stop by the office in the Garden Level of the LBC!

Hotlines The LINE - 504-264-6074 24 hours, 7 days a week, confidential crisis support hotline.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline - 1-800-273-8255 24/7, free, and confidential support

The Trevor Project - LGBTQ Lifeline - 866-488-7386 Has trained counselors available to support you 24/7.

RAINN National Sexual Assault Hotline- 800-656-4673 Connects you to a trained staff member who can offer confidential counsel and/or assist you in finding local health facilities and resources for healing and recovery.

The National Domestic Violence Hotline - 1-800-799-7233 Provides confidential live chat and phone support service.

Want to Get Involved?

As a new publication, we hope to improve upon and grow with each issue. If you are interested in getting involved with the Zine, please contact us at tulanepublichealthzine@gmail.com.

Next month’s theme will explore Environmental Health. We are always looking for new contributors and are eager to hear your feedback.

Additionally, if you would like to assist us in developing our Resource Guide, please contact us at our email above. We want to continue providing relevant and up-to-date information for all communities at Tulane.

The PHZ plans to revisit Non-Western Perspectives on Mental Health in future issues, as they deserve to be continually recognized in the broader conversation about mental health.

Thank you for reading!

The Public Health Zine (PHZ) presents an evidence-based, comprehensive snapshot of pressing campus health issues through a monthly theme. We are a publication dedicated to creating a campus-wide conversation around student health and wellness.Â

Disclaimer: this is not an official Tulane University sponsored publication. The views and opinions contained herein by the various authors do not necessarily reflect the official views, opinions, or policy of Tulane administrators, staff or faculty. All material contained herein are the views and opinions of students, and may not reflect the views of all students on campus.