Mental Illness and Disability in Dialogue | Wilfredo Gomez

Mental Illness and Disability in Dialogue by Wilfredo Gomez | @BazookaGomez84 | NewBlackMan (in Exile)
In the aftermath of the recent suicides of Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain, the media has reminded us about the overlooked realities of mental illness—the invisible, silenced, sufferings that can wreak havoc on our bodies and manifest when we least expect it. Sometimes, we hurt ourselves, and the collateral damage is far reaching. Sometimes, those actions reverberate in ways that change the landscape of our culture, politics, and perspective. The discourse of mental illness remains split: suicide on the on hand, and mass shootings on the other.
As a disabled person, who wrestles with a physical disability (a form of cerebral palsy that manifests a confluence of the visible and invisible), recent events have forced me to reconcile how mental illness is quickly becoming the lexicon and reference point of an already marginalized community. However, I can’t recall the language of disability being used in those conversations.
As a consumer of those discourses, I ask, how might the conversation of mental illness change if framed within a broader discussion of a public health crises pertaining to disability? Writing for The New York Times, Benedict Carey, mentions marriages, unions, guns, researchers, and prescriptions drugs, while never once alluding to the language of disability in “How Suicide Quietly Morphed into a Public Health Crises.” Given those frames of reference, how do we talk about one disability cutting across demographics, class, and celebrity, without a discussion of how disability itself, materializes in such complex ways within and across communities of difference. The opportunity to be in dialogue transgresses conversations of race, class, culture, celebrity, and age.
A recent encounter with the lexicon of disability presented itself in the artistic expression and ruminations of one Kanye West. In the build-up to the to the release of his eighth studio album, Ye, West sat down with writer and New York City radio personality Charlamagne tha God. During that sit-down, mental illness was a prominent topic of conversation, where Charlamagne humanized the discussion by admitting to seeing a therapist, and allowing us to see Kanye West, the person behind the artistic persona who shares the same name.
In the spirit of language, naming, and control, West suggested a different frame of reference, where “breakdown” became “breakthrough,” and the stigmas surrounding words like “crazy” and “luxury” were critically unpacked and zapped of its energy both as a reflection of institutional control (think of the medical profession and prescription drugs) and structural forces that reinforce difference and isolation (how the language of “crazy” breeds feelings of resentment, isolation, silence, and norms). The respective deaths of Spade and Bourdain illuminate how the language of luxury and the assumptions they conjure up in our minds, are not immune to feelings of despair, anxiety, depression, and fears.
This brings me to several listening sessions with West’s recent release Ye. The album cover showcases the mountains of Wyoming, with the words, “I hate being bi-polar its awesome” featuring prominently. The albums first track, “I Thought About Killing You,” wrestles with the concerns of suicide, murder, and self worth, a lyrical exercise in contemplating the state of being: life and death. The track that follows, “Yikes” is perhaps the most thought provoking. In the track, West dismisses the language and label of disability, opting instead to empower himself by constructing the illness as a superpower.
While West has every right to reframe the language of his suffering, there a skepticism in listening to the project that demands our collective attention. How many have the distinct luxury of language, resources, and control to shift the topic of conversation? I could not help but wonder (as a member of the disabled community) if we missed an opportunity. Could Kanye West have served as an agent of change to discuss mental illness at the crossroads of disability? By framing his illness as a superpower, as opposed to a disability, did he reinforce the very stigmas he committed himself to undoing. Could Kanye West have served as vehicle for a public conversation about disability and public health?
As consumers of culture, if we listened, paid attention, and acted with empathy as part of a collective, could we in fact take up the challenge offered by Elise Roy in her Ted Talk, suggesting that “when we design for disability we all benefit.” Thereafter, our breakdowns might effectively become our break though.
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Wilfredo Gomez is an independent scholar and researcher. He can be reached at gomez.wilfredo@gmail.com or via twitter at BazookaGomez84.