We Laugh at Mental Illness

I went down River Road in Baton Rouge hoping to see and capture some of the farm landscapes I enjoyed. 1996 as a LSU student was the last time I saw that section of River Road. There were cows grazing on the farms and the levees. The grass and tree leaves were vivid green seemingly fencing the serpentine road. When I made the left turn off the Veterinary School and Hospital, I had a feeling it wasn't the same. I just didn't know how much the road changed. My hopes were falling flat as I saw apartments and housing subdivisions but I kept going. Soon, small hopes for a good photo began to appear.

Further, the landscape began to represent the lush and the decay I was hoping for. My company was Andrea. She was also the driver. She was also my muse. Andrea is an English teacher with degrees from Jackson St. University. She wanted me to capture her when vulnerable so she can feel empowered. Boudoir photos were the plan with more sessions to capture her emotional state when she wrote her poems. Andrea was disagnosed bipolar. Depression is common in her life but now she has a bucket list of adventures to achieve to laugh at depression. Her poems are about her life but they could be about the specifics of many other lives. She chronicles to prose: Mental illness; domestic abuse; family; broken marriage; apology; social conflict; phobias her illness won't let subside; and the pursuit of happiness.

Her family has a history of mental illness. Knowing that history, her very well educated mother still took forever and a day to acknowledge her daughter needed help. The negative stigma of someone in the family being crazy is strong in the Black community. We hide it. We don't talk about it. Mental illness equates to crazy. Crazy is comical. Crazy if shameful. We rather keep "crazy" Uncle James in the back room for the rest of his life instead of opening to the realization that Uncle James needs diagnoses and help for his mental illness. Thankfully Andrea is on the correct road to healing. She has scars but her soul is no longer sour. She wants to know want content feels like.

As my high came down from a good Boudoir session, Andrea introduced me to a photobook titled. "Without Sanctuary." The book is lynching photos in America. It is difficult to view but ironically, the stories behind the photos soften the blow - a tad. The stories of why these men and women were lynched are all unbelievable and ridiculous; but in understanding the violent history of America, the stories validate the savagery. The stories and photos are testaments to evils the angelic white race continue to disavow. The myth of supremacy has diminished common human decency and consideration from many white people. Why are Black people in America? Integration has become as big a fallacy as religion. When we do separate, whites infiltrate, appropriate, or destroy - i.e: Tulsa, Oklahoma ( Black Wall Street). White people are truly lucky that Black people are forgiving and not in a forever state of post traumatic syndrome. Maybe we are but don't acknowledge it.