There’s a line in Donna-Michelle St. Bernard’s “Sound of the Beast” that I think about all the time: “I’m with them, whoever they are.” I’m with the old man yelling at the air in the waiting room of my psychiatrist’s office.
I’m with the manic mother facing a judge to challenge her court-ordered hospital stay. I’m with every patient who has been punished for a behavior caused by the very illness they are receiving treatment for.
I’m with my fellow mentally ill people of color who face racism daily, as if living with a mental illness isn’t already hard enough.
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