Junior Seau Is Gone But the Issue Remains

Lonely Decision

by Jay Jay Speaks

February 7, 2012

Reposted (May 3, 2012)

According to sources in the Los Angeles coroner’s office, the February 1, 2012 death of TV pioneer Don Corneilus (host, director and producer of Soul Train, the longest running music television show in history) is officially being ruled a “suicide.”

This will come as a disappointment to many people, particularly many in the African-American community. I’ve already read and heard many black people comment that, they “can’t believe that Don Corneilus actually killed himself,” as if suicide is the forbidden decision for black Americans. Long is the history of denial, refusal and community delusion when it comes to the African American community and the issue of suicide.

For many African Americans it is far easier to grasp the concept that a family member or loved one accidentally overdosed on drugs or alcohol, or was senselessly gunned down in the streets than to come to grips with the reality that a black person may have taken their own life. We can more easily allow ourselves to devise elaborate conspiracy theories of how someone in power (police, politicians or drug kingpins) arranged for someone to be taken out through a conversion of circumstances than to admit that someone we know and cared about reached a conclusion that they would end their own life rather than continue to endure whatever tragedy, depression, sickness, illness, bullying or lack of acceptance their current reality brings. I mean so many of us in the black community think killing yourself is “the coward’s way out of hardship.” Recently I even had one guy tell me, “Killing yourself is the bitch move!”

At some point we in the black community need to stop with the lies, and let go of the denial. The honest truth is that there is no special dispensation from depression bestowed upon African-Americans. There is no innate emotional shield from the darkness that can possess a person’s soul. Just because our ancestors endured 400+ years of chattel slavery and another 100 years of Jim Crow segregation doesn’t remove us from the modern human experience.  Before any black American beat their chests and brag on the toughness of our people for enduring slavery, please keep in mind that thousands and thousands of Africans threw themselves overboard into the Atlantic ocean rather than continue on the journey of the middle passage .We hurt, we cry, we suffer and sometimes we die at our own hands just like every other nationality, ethnicity, race, culture and community of people participating in this American experience. Perhaps we don’t participate in suicide at the same rate as other demographic groups, I don’t know. Or perhaps we find ways to hide our suicides amongst the senseless shootings, deaths and urban crime statistics. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…

I know a few things for sure. I know for sure that I have encountered several black people who have either attempted suicide or at least seriously contemplated it. I have known a few, some who were very close to me, who keep this as their big deep dark secret. They shared their secret with me, either because I shared mine with them first or they sensed that I’d understand if they told me this thing they couldn’t share with anyone else. I spoke to one of these people this week in fact. Alarmed by their text messages, I sat in my family room trying to devise a strategy to encourage them to select an alternative to the decision they texted me they had reached.  I am glad this person didn’t follow through on their train of thought and course of action. I’m so glad that they decided to fight, to push and to endure the curious questioning of “why God isn’t there and why they had to be the eternal outcast in their famiy and amongst their friends? ” I’m glad they decided to find more reasons to draw breath than reasons to stop taking it in. I’m glad because I would miss that person dearly. I would miss them selfishly. I would miss them and somewhere in my sorrow, I’d be jealous that they had the conviction to do what I have thought about doing.

Suicide is our dirty little secret. It’s the family secret we don’t talk about in front of strangers or in front of family. We gloss over the facts and deny the truth, the truth that we all knew about all along. We ignore the message and the cries for help. We cover them up with scriptures, and soul food. We hide them behind marijuana and alcohol. We numb these messages by have sex, lots of sex, lots of premarital, extra-marital, promiscuous sex. But no matter how much we deny, ignore, cover-up, hide or numb the pleas for help, they are always there. ALWAYS.

We must commit to loving one another honestly and listening to one another sincerely. The next time someone talks about killing themselves or is going through a real rough time (weeks, months, years, or tragedy) don’t simply blow off their comments, jokes, midnight tears on the phone or cryptic text messages or Facebook posts. Go meet them where they are (geographically and emotionally) and let them know you care. Let them know how much they mean to you, then do the best most endearing loving thing you can do…TAKE THEM SERIOUSLY AND LISTEN TO THEIR PAIN. Sometimes listening can be enough to make them decide to try again, to love again, to marry again, to have faith again, to live again and to…BREATHE AGAIN.

REST IN PEACE Brother Don Corneilus.

You were the conductor of the “HIPPEST RIDE IN AMERICA!” We’re should all be sorry we didn’t understand the depths of your pain. May you find in death what you could not find in life.

I wish you, “Love, Peace and Soul!”