[Interview] We Want the Airwaves - Anthony J. Williams Pt 2

In part two of this interview with Black queer writer Anthony J. Williams, we discuss anti-Black racism in POC communities, analyze some common Bay Area social justice lingo, and identify a few of the barriers Black folks face in accessing mental health help. Anthony J. Williams, part two Anthony: I work at a Black organization. I used to work at two Black organizations. I live with a Native…one Native Chicana, and then one…I'm actually not sure how she identifies, but I think mestiza Chicana. And before that I lived with an Afro-Cuban. So that was a very intentional house. All my friends, with the exception of some online friends, are all POC. And if they're my homies, then we've talked about anti-Blackness, and worked through it. Because I've lost friends because of anti-Blackness, where they say stuff that's crossing a line, or that is perpetually anti-Black. [INSERT INTRO] Nia: OK. This might be a weird tangent. Anthony: No, please. Nia: But this is something I've been thinking about a lot recently. Anthony: Yeah. Nia: It makes me feel super weird when non-Black POC refer to themselves as darkskinned. [Both laugh] Anthony: Yes. Nia: There are plenty of people of color that are not Black that are legitimately darkskinned— Anthony: Yeah. Nia: Or that look Black— Anthony: Yeah, yeah. Nia: But also, I always feel like what they should be saying is “Dark-skinned for a…” whatever it is. [Nia laughs] Anthony: Yeah! Yeah, yeah. Nia: Because otherwise, it's like, “If you're dark, what is Wesley Snipes?” [Both laugh] Anthony: Yes, yes. Nia: Where does your scale end? [Both laugh] Anthony: That's real, that's real. That's like when white people say “I'm almost as dark as you!” And it's like “No, you're not. You're really not. And you won't be.” But that's real. Nia: And they may very well experience colorism in their communities. I'm sure that they do. At the same time, I just always feel weird when I hear people that are like— Because the scales are different, right? Anthony: Yeah! Nia: The whole way by which we measure skin color is super-complicated and fucked up. Anthony: Yeah! Nia: But yeah, I don't know. I just wanted to [laughs] get that off my chest. Anthony: No, that's real. Get it off your chest. That's real. I don't hear it very often, but I would feel a way, if I heard it very often. If you're brown of some sort, and if you're dark for a Filipino, for example, you're dark for a Filipino. But to say you're “dark,” when I'm like three shades darker than you. You're not actually dark. But like you said, it's valid. It's a yes/and. You are dark in comparison to the rest of your ethnic group, or your racial group. Or, particularly Filipinos, can get super, super dark. Nia: Yeah, and a lot of Filipinos are part Black, also. Anthony: Exactly, yeah. So that's a thing. But it doesn't make sense, especially to talk to me, especially in the summer. I'm like a… I don't know, it depends. It depends on when you see me. But I'm generally a fairly brown color, and then in the summer I can get pretty dark. So when people are like, “I'm dark,” I'm like, “Are you?” [Nia laughs] “Are you?” Because, you know. It it's a trip. I agree. I agree with your tangent. Nia: I might end up cutting this whole part. [Laughs] But yeah, I guess these are things that I've thought about, and talked about in private conversations, but never publicly. So some of this might get cut. I feel like the term “non-Black people of color”… First of all, coming from the East Coast ten years ago, even “people of color” was not that common a term. And there are places where people still don't use it. Anthony: Mmhmm, mmhmm. Nia: Or like “South Asian” as opposed to “Indian” or “Pakistani,” specifically. Anthony: Mmhmm, mmhmm. Nia: I feel like those are not exclusively Bay area terms, but terms I didn't hear until I came to the Bay area. Anthony: Mmhmm. Nia: And “non-Black people of color” is one that I feel like has emerged more recently, as a product of conversations about anti-Blackness in POC communities. And when I first heard it, I had some real resistance to it. [Both laugh] Anthony: Talk about the resistance. Where was it? Nia: Because I was like, “Why are we separating out Black from every other person of color?” Also, to be… This is embarrassing and I might cut it, but I might just have a resistance to change in general. [Both laugh] The first time I heard “Black Lives Matter,” I was like, “And the sky is blue.” [Both laugh] “Why does this need to be said out loud?” Anthony: Yeah. Nia: And of course now, I understand the importance of it. But I get really frustrated by the kind of 101-level that I think a lot of conversations about racism have to stay at, especially when they're happening across difference, because people just don't want to learn or change. Anthony: Yeah. Nia: I think that was the sentiment behind “Black lives matter isn't a thing that should need to be said.” That's not how I feel any… I mean… [Both laugh] I'm not against the Black Lives Matter movement, but, it's also just like, “Of course. Of course,” right? Like, “Fucking duh.” [Both laugh] So yeah, with “non-Black people of color,” I think, probably, part of it stemmed from insecurity about being light-skinned. “POC” felt like an umbrella I could fit under. Even though I identify as Black, I'm proud to be Black. But historically, growing up, when I'd tell people I was Black, they'd be like “No, you're not.” Anthony: Mmhmm. Nia: If I say “POC” instead of having to explain, people might just assume that I'm Latinx, or Arab—and I am part Middle Eastern. But I don't have to get into with them. Not that I'm ashamed to be Black, again, but I don't have to be like, “I'm Black. No, for real. No, here's a picture of my family.” So yeah, I think I felt threatened by it, on some level. But I also hadn't, I don't think, really experienced anti-Blackness from people of color. At least I wasn't able to identify it as that. Growing up closer to the Black side of my family, I heard fucked up stuff that Black family members would say about other racial groups— Anthony: Yeah, yeah. Nia: But I didn't hear about what Mexicans would say about Black people, or Asians would say about Black people. So I was like, “Mmm, [laughs] this kind of seems like… I don't know. I think I just didn't really have the context to understand or appreciate what that term was attempting to do. Anthony: Yeah. Nia: And now I do. But I guess I'm curious, when you first heard that term, did you feel any kind of way about it? Anthony: When I first heard the term. I think… It was a little weird for me, because… I am visibly Black. And it's like we're always trying to tip-toe around “white” in a lot of ways, and “Black,” and so when you're saying “non-Black people of color” you're basically saying “most of the world, except for white people and Black people.” It's just such a strange thing, because most of the world is people of color. And so at one point I was thinking about how do we shift this? How do we tilt it? Because in South Africa sometimes they say “non-white,” but then to me, that's centering white. But to say people of color is this other ways of—not centering color, because that's fine, but centering the fact that we're different from white. We're people of color, versus these people, who are not of color. When I first heard it, it was interesting. But I think it's such a social justice-y term, and such a Bay area term, because it's generally referring to social justice spaces. So when we're talking about anti-Blackness, it is these little microaggressions. And not that it's not big, but it's like, “You're already in this space, and then you're also displaying anti-Blackness. You're assuming because I'm Black, and I present as a man, that I'm going to be more angry, or violent, or this or that.” And those are the things that get brought up. But I'm wondering, even in terms of your own experience, how much that does have to do with you being lighter skinned. Because the anti… Actually the thing that's curious about that, is would I figure, because you're light-skinned, and you don't always read as Black, I figured you'd hear more anti-Blackness from non-Black people of color, rather than less. And a lot of times the non-Black people of color… it's such a… bleh, such a lot to say— Nia: Right? It's clunky. Anthony: NBPOC. [Nia laughs] Nia: Which also sounds like “non-binary people of color.” Anthony: Yeah. Yeah. Nia: Have your heard “BIPOC?” That was another one that's like “Black and Indigenous people of color.” Anthony: Yeah, that's new for me. Nia: It's much more common in Canada. I don't think people here use it as much. Anthony: OK, when you say Black and Indigenous people of color, that's a very specific… it's only Black and Indigenous, so it's leaving out anyone who's not those? Nia: I think people— Anthony: Or is it Black, and Indigenous, and people of color? Nia: Yes. Anthony: And so it's to make sure that we include Indigenous within that? Is that the idea? Nia: It's breaking out… So, OK. [laughs] Anthony: Yeah, break it down. Nia: This is my theory. I haven't conversed with whoever came up with the term. But my understanding is that it's about relationship to the land. Anthony: Mmmm. Nia: So, Indigenous people have a different relationship to land than people who came as settlers, or were brought as slaves. So it's kind of separating out, there's people who were here first. There's people who's land everyone else is on. There's people who were brought here against their will. And then there's everyone else that's is not white. [Laughs] Anthony: Yeah! That's real. But then… It makes sense, but also wouldn't it be “Indigenous and Black people of color?” Wouldn't it go Indigenous first, given relation to land, if that's what it is? You know? Nia: That's a great question that I can't answer. Anthony: But either way… That's cool. BIPOC is cool. I haven't used it. I feel like I need to read up on it. Nia: When I first heard that, I thought it was “bisexual people of color.” [Both laugh] Anthony: Yeah. Yeah. And that's, I mean, the one I do like from the Bay Area is “QTIPOC.” Queer Trans Intersex People of Color. It's interesting when QTIPOC doesn't have the “intersex” in it, which I think often it doesn't. Because there aren't as many folks… well, I don't want to say that, because I don't actually know. In the spaces I've been in, there aren't that many folks that I know of who identify as intersex openly, and are doing that work. But it doesn't mean they're not there. But usually spaces in the Bay Area are QTPOC without the I. Queer and trans people of color spaces. I think “trans” is often used very broadly, too. While there may not be anyone who identifies as a trans woman or trans man, there may be somebody who identifies as gender nonconforming, or as non-binary, and identifies under the umbrella of trans. I feel like it's so Bay Area. I wonder if anybody else listening, if they hear this part, I wonder what they think when they hear these terms. And I always say this to my partner. The first time I heard QTIPOC…if you think about it… And I didn't know it was an acronym, so I was like “Cutie who? Who's Poc?” So, you wouldn't know Q-T-I-P-O-C. It's always weird. My housemate one time said “As a W-O-C,” I was like, “As a woman of color?” She said it out loud. She either said “W-O-C” or she said “Woc.” And I was like, “What?” She said “I've heard people say it.” I was like, “Where?!” [Both laugh] “You can just say it.” And I was confused. No shade to her. I was just confused. Because you're speaking, so why don't you just…? But anyway. All of our Bay Area acronyms are a lot. And I'm curious to see, when I move down to LA, what terms they use, and how it's different. Because I know it's very specific to the Bay Area. Even “queer.” Queer's something that's used a lot up here. When I was at a conference of all Black… Black men, and a few Black gender nonconforming Black folks. It was an HIV and AIDS advocacy conference that happened in Baltimore. I said “queer” and a lot of people had never… Well, they'd heard the term, but they didn't know anybody Black who identified as that. They know people who identify as “gay,” “same-gender loving,” and a bunch of other things. But queer… and this was in 2015, I think. Queer was so… they made fun of me, because I'm at Berkeley, I'm using “queer.” If you don't know the history of it, or if you don't know the reclamation of it, it can seem like a super-white word. So they're like, “This Black dude is using 'queer.' What the fuck?” But it's like, “No, actually we can…” And queer as an umbrella term is really great, in a lot of ways, that “gay” doesn't identify my sexuality very well. Although I sometimes use it. But anyway my point is, that it's interesting how much the Bay is weird. [Both laugh] I can admit that the Bay is weird. It's a little particular. Nia: For sure. And I'm not just talking about… For example, when I first moved here, I didn't have any analysis around disability justice. I had never even heard the term. Anthony: Mmhmm. Nia: And now it's very much at the center of my framework. In terms of when you're organizing an event, obviously the venue should be wheelchair-accessible. You always include accessibility information on the Facebook event page, or whatever. Anthony: Mmhmm. Nia: Those things seem very basic to me now. But when I go back East, to Boston, or even to…When I was in New Orleans recently, I was like, “Nothing here is wheelchair accessible. Everything has stairs.” Anthony: Oh no! Nia: It's not shade towards New Orleans. Surely people must be having those conversations there. But it's not happening in the same kind of way. I hate to say that we're ahead of the rest of the country, because it sounds terrible. But, I don't know, when I go back home, things are really different. And I'm reminded how different the Bay is from the quote, unquote, “real world.” [Laughs] Anthony: The reality of that is too is… My housemate, the other day, was asking if our apartment is an inclusive space. I was like, “Honestly—” Nia: What does that mean? Anthony: Well, that's what I asked. Because we were talking about learning, and social justice, and a lot of the terms that we use. My partner is in the sciences, so a lot of this is very new to him, too. He, in the beginning, wouldn't speak up a lot in our house. Because my old housemate used to work for the same all-Black organization I worked for. My housemate who's still there, who's living with the three of us, all together, she went to Cal. There's a certain Cal-culture, and Cal bubble, which also reflects the Bay Area bubble and culture. So she was asking, when people come over is it accessible? I was like, “honestly, not really.” If you don't know a lot of the language and lingo… I try to make sure that folks can ask. But it's a hard space to be in sometimes, I recognize, because even asking “Is this an inclusive space?” is such a Bay… It's a great thing, but it's a very Bay Area thing. Because if you ask certain people about accessibility, a lot of them kind of shrug it off, and think it's not that big a deal. Nia: It also means totally different things to totally different people. For some people accessibility means “How much does this event cost? Can I afford to go?” Anthony: Yeah. Nia: Other people it might be mobility, like wheelchair stuff. For other people it's fragrance, chemical sensitivity stuff. So when someone asks when a space is inclusive, it's like “Inclusive of who?” Anthony: And even your question, it's a great question, but that's still really Bay Area. “Inclusive of who?” A lot of people could be like, they might think of one or two groups. Inclusive of queer folks, inclusive of disabled folks. But in the Bay we're like “Well, who do you want to include?” And that's good. I love that. And I agree. I think sometimes we are pushing the conversation forward. I just sometimes wonder how are we pushing people away. And that's the scary thing. When we're talking about this, I do make it clear, you can always ask me questions. But when you're using certain words, they're signals, they're a light post that a lot of people are like, “Huh?” And why are you using that word when you could use this word? So that's what I think about with our spaces, too. Because even when I was first introduced to fragrance-free, I was like, “Who needs fragrance-free?” And that was my own ableism and prejudice showing, and I recognize that there's a huge need for it, I just didn't know. People do need fragrancefree, or chemical-free [spaces]. But I talked to friends who are even in social justice spaces, and they were like, “Oh my god. Look at this.” And it's like, “No, actually, this is really needed, just like this is needed.” Nia: You could give someone a seizure. Pay attention. [Laughs] Anthony: Yeah, it's important. Like, “I'ma just sit over here.” No, don't sit over here when you have a fragrance on! It actually really matters. So thinking about that, it's really important to push the conversation forward, and I also hope that folks are willing to explain when it's needed, and [be] open to that. Because not all of us are. Some of us do have this ego, in certain moments. And that can be really damaging to people who do want to know more, but are afraid to look silly asking a question. Even one on one. Nia: OK, I want to come back to something I asked earlier— Anthony: Yes. Nia: --that I didn't give you a chance to let you answer— Anthony: Uh oh. Nia: --because I asked you another question, which is what you're most proud of, of all the work you've done, and essays you've written. Anthony: I think… I title my essays and then sometimes forget what they're called. I think it's The Personal and Political Process of Black Consciousness? Nia: OK. Anthony: That one, because there's been a lot of writing I've done, but that was a very personal essay. A lot of people asked me how I started thinking, how I thought, where it began, or what was the process like, and I think that traces a lot of the process, and also lays bare a lot of my blind spots… That's probably an ableist term, too. Oh my god. The world, the world is so wild. But it lays bare a lot of the places I could be working on, but also where I came from. And it's pretty honest. That's the thing about me, and my work, and my activism, and my organizing, and just in general, I try to be really honest. A few years ago, if you asked me, I would have said some pretty anti-Black stuff, because I didn't recognize that that was internalized anti-Blackness, and I didn't recognize that white supremacy was as strong as it is. So I try to be honest, and I think that's really useful. Not just for me as a Black person. That's what I tell white people all the time. It doesn't help if you pretend you're not racist. I'd rather just know you're racist, and let's work on that, than to be like, “I'm not racist. Or for most people who are cis to be like, “I'm not transphobic.” No, you are. Because all of us mostly are, because we're raised that way. Because we're taught that way. Because we have an obsession with genitals. All of these things. I think about that all the time. So, in that piece I was very honest. I also used different photos from different times in my life. And it feels very… That was also like a lot of, what I've talked to you about today, a lot of that processing happened in that piece, from South Africa. I'd been keeping a journal, but that kept… That was looking back on South Africa, looking forward, and seeing where I was. So for me that piece was very… I think if you don't like that piece, then you probably don't like most of my writing. And that's fine if you don't. A lot of my writing is both personal and political. And I can do the more removed stuff, I can do academic stuff, I can do other stuff. But my writing, the writing that I really love to do, and that seems to resonate with a fair amount of people, are pieces like that. It's between that, and then there's another piece, Depression Feels like Decay in Real Time. Those two pieces are both very personal pieces. What I also like is that they've helped other people. They've helped other people in the process. Other people have understood their depression, or their Blackness. People have told me “I'm much more openly queer, or Black,” or whatever it is, “Because of you, and your writing.” That's a hard thing to take in, and be like “Oh, that's real.” But recognizing that, that's why I like writing, and that's why I'm planning on doing this book. At first I just thought it was ego. I was like “Well, maybe I just think I'm really great,” but it's like, I actually don't think I'm that great, but I do think I speak to people. I think I have a talent, and a skill that I need to develop. But what's beautiful is that I can reach people. So those two pieces are the two more recent ones that I think… Not even just the more recent ones. Of the writing I've ever done in my life, those are two of the pieces that I think I really love. Nia: Yeah, you… I read the depression piece today. And you also tweet a lot about mental health. You're pretty open about your struggles with depression and anxiety. Anthony: Mmhmm. Nia: Is that something that you feel politicized around? Anthony: Yeah, yeah. I didn't before, and sometimes it doesn't always feel politicized, because sometimes it just feels like I'm complaining. And then people remind me that I'm not complaining, I'm affirming what I'm going through. And sometimes I can be, but generally I'm affirming what I'm going through, and also I'm speaking it into existence, so that someone else who struggling with it knows they're not alone. My mental health advocacy is not just for myself, it's for all of us. When I say “us,” that doesn't just mean Black queer folks, that means literally all of us. Because so many of us deal with these problems. And when we ask each other how we are, it's so rare that we actually, one, want to know how that other person is, and, two, that we answer honestly. My coworker asked me “How are you?” And I was like, “I'm not great.” I was like, “I had a really bad mental health day. That's why I wasn't at work yesterday.” It was this week. We had a few days off for the lovely colonial Fourth of July holiday, which we call Fredrick Douglass holiday, or Fredrick Douglass Day. I had to take another day off, because I couldn't get up and get to work. When I saw my coworker, I said something to her, and she shared with me that she's been dealing with it. If I had not said something like that, I would have never known, and we as two Black people, who often… If you look up any articles, they tell you that we have higher rates of depression, and general anxiety disorder, and PTSD. It makes sense because this country hates us, you know what I mean? And sometimes we… It's just a lot, right? And not just this country, this world hates us. But they love our cultural products, and they love what we create. They just don't like our faces attached to it, and our bodies. Anyway, my point is that in talking about it, it's definitely political, and I'm definitely politicized around it. (23:35) And even like you were saying, disability justice, I kind of got introduced to it on my own. Dealing with depression, and dealing with anxiety, and recognizing that I have these things. I've had them for a long time, for over ten years I've dealt with them. But I only recently, in my early 20s, really recognized that it was a real problem for me. And it was also causing me to be not be as functional as I like. So yeah, it's for sure political, because it's just hard. It's hard when even your own family doesn't want to hear you talking about this. Or they're like “You can just pray it away. You can just do this away.” And it's like, “I literally couldn't get out of bed. I didn't want to eat. I couldn't do this.” And they're like, “But you're tweeting.” That's all I can do. I'm in bed, and my thumbs are moving. Then I'm going to lay down, then going to roll over to the other side. Then I'm probably not going to drink the water that I need. I'm probably not going to take the medication that I need. But I can tweet! Or even if I can't tweet, I can scroll. People don't understand sometimes that yeah, you can do this one thing. Yeah, you're perfectly able to work, but that doesn't mean that when you get home from work you didn't crash into a puddle. But it's been more recently, it's been within the last year, two years, that I've been politicized about my mental health, and other folks. Because it's super important, and we lose a lot of people because we don't listen. We're not really listening to people. It hurts that we lose so many people, and it hurts that— Nia: You're talking about suicide? Anthony: Yeah. And not just suicide, though. We lose people… People don't seek treatment, which can then make it worse. Because it's so stigmatized. And you don't… So, when I finally got on medication, I didn't even want to admit to anybody, I told my family, but I didn't want to admit to anybody that I was on medication. I was on it for awhile, then I finally talked about it. Now I talk about it pretty openly. But I remember being afraid to even get on medication, because what if I'm reliant on it? There's a lot that goes into that. I'm reliant on a lot of things. The medication can help me, and if it can help me, then maybe I should use it. But I remember telling a friend… I don't know if I had been on it, or if I was going to get on it. He was like, “Why would you take that?!” He made me feel bad about taking medication that I need to function. I remember that moment, because I was like, “You're my friend, who's in the social justice world, and you're telling me 'Well, just take some natural supplements, or just go outside.'” Like that's going to do it for me, and like I haven't tried that. So, it's always so… We lose a lot of people, but not just by suicide. By a lot of other means. Suicide is rarely… It's death by suicide. It's not someone, generally in my head, it's not someone committing suicide. It's rarely just that person. There's so many other aspects that go into it. Like Kalief Browder, for example. He was 19, I think, when he committed suicide, after being in Rikers for supposedly stealing a backpack when he was 16. And committed suicide… not committed suicide, died by suicide. And really in my head, was murdered by suicide, later, because that was the state. That was the fact that he was in solitary confinement. That was the fact that he allegedly stole a backpack, and even if he actually did it, why did he go into solitary confinement. A backpack. That's a need. That's a necessity. Well, you could argue that, but really if you're a student, that's a need. So for me, there's so many things that go into it. It's really important to think about the words we say to each other. What they mean, and the weight that it has. And how often that we're actually really checking on each other, especially as folks within the margins. As queer Black folks, we need to make sure that we're both good, when we have the capacity to. And when we have the interest. Because it's not always reciprocated, either. So then you can ruin your own mental health trying to take care of somebody else. Which has happened to me, in my life, more than once. So yeah. I'm long winded. [Nia laughs] I always know it, but then when I'm talking, I'm like, “Oh my god. I'm so sorry.” Nia: You touched on a lot of things that I want to go into further, and I'm trying to think of the best way to approach it. I feel like there's so much to be said about Blackness and mental health. Anthony: Mmhmm. Nia: I don't even know where to start. [Laughs] I mean, you talked about, statistically, Black people having higher rates of depression. And you mentioned a couple of other— Anthony: Mmhmm. Nia: --I don't want to them “diseases” but you know what I mean. [Laughs] Conditions. Anthony: Yeah, yeah. Nia: I think there's so much… So, medicine, and by extension psychiatry, is historically extremely racist. There's a bunch of things that I think make it hard for Black people struggling with mental health to get help. Part of it is general societal stigma. Part of it is the idea that going to therapy is a white thing. Or taking antidepressants is a white thing. And then there's also, like… you can't fucking trust doctors! [Laughs] Anthony: No. No. Nia: Because they don't usually have your best interest in mind. Especially when it comes to more serious… A situation where someone might need or want to be institutionalized. That shit is… I have friends… I don't know if I have Black friends that have said this, but I've have friends that have said “Committing myself, or being committed, saved my life.” But I feel like when you're talking about people of color, and Black folks in particular, you just can't fucking trust doctors! [laughs] That's just what it comes down to for me. You just can't trust any institution that's going to hold you against your will. So where do you go for the help, if you really need it? As activists we love to talk about community-based solutions, [Anthony laughs] and not needing the State, or medicine, to intervene and shit. But when shit gets really real, do you have those two or three homies that can really handle your shit when you're losing it? Because I think a lot of us don't. Response? [Laughs] Anthony: That’s real. That’s hella real. That's makes me think of a few things. One, doctors ain't shit. [Nia laughs] Medicine ain't shit. Psychiatry ain't shit. Nia: I mean, I love my antidepressants, don't get me wrong. Anthony: No, yeah, no. I mean I say that, and I'm still… I take Prozac every day. Nia: When I read your essay, I said “Oh, we're on the same generic Prozac.” [Both laugh] “We take the same drug.” Anthony: Yeah, I'm on Prozac. I think it helps. I'm trying to figure out what's going to be… I don't know, my body's weird, and I don't know if that's what I need. But I need something, right? I need some help. But I have a lot of questions. When I first got prescribed it, it was a white doctor who was also on Prozac herself. And I had to question, I was like, “Are you getting a kickback for this? How much are you doing it just because you're on it?” I had never been in a psychiatric consultation, so I was like, “How did you know from talking to me that Prozac is what I need? How did you know that…” I deal with both depression and anxiety, but my depression's a little higher, so maybe Prozac's good, rather than this. It was weird for me. So when I first started taking it, I was at 10 milligrams, and then 20, and then 40. I recently went up to 60, and I didn't like it, so I'm back at 40. Nia: I think that's my dose, too. Anthony: Yeah? Heyyy! [Nia laughs] Medication twins. Nia: Totally. Anthony: [Laughs] But it's a weird thing. And I think what you're talking about, the community based solutions, and as activists we talk about that. Like, “We don't need the State. Fuck the State.” But it's real, right? So getting committed… I'll avoid it at all costs, because we call the police, or we call 911, or we call the ambulance for our people, and they get shot. There's been multiple cases. It's not been talked about enough, the fact that Blackness, and police brutality, and disability, they collide a lot. Nia: Especially with mental illness. Anthony: Yeah, and so when you think about it, and the number of people… I don't remember the stat, but if you look at the numbers, I don't even want to say it. But it's a high percentage of people who have been arrested, or who have been assaulted, who are also dealing with mental health issues, or disability, and mental health being one of the disabilities. So what you're saying, those homies that you can call, are real. And it's like, you have first start by being honest with yourself, and then being vulnerable with other people. It's hard to figure this shit out. So you really do have to have people… You have to be honest with yourself, and then you have to be honest with your friends and your family. Like, “I'm not doing well.” Or “I have bad days.” Or “I struggle with self-harm,” if that's something that people deal with, and they're comfortable sharing. Because it's real. And when we don't, we do ourselves, and our friends, and our families, a disservice when we don't share it. But I also understand why we don't, because of the stigma. And because sometimes when you do share it, people shut you down. And people talk shit about you. And people tell your business. So it makes sense when no one tells anyone else about the mental health struggles that they're dealing with, because why the fuck would you? Why would you trust anybody. But I encourage folks to really try to find someone they can trust. I had a homie who was having a panic attack, and called me. They FaceTimed me. I was at a thing, and left the thing, because I was like, “This homie doesn't really FaceTime me very often.” I think they were abroad at the time, too. So, I was like, “What's going on?” I just felt something. I had to coach them through an anxiety attack, and I had never done that before, but really it worked. And it made me reflect on, I had shown that person my true self, and they had shown me their true self. So in that moment, of all the people they could have called, they called me, and I think maybe one other person. So that matters. That's what organizing is anyway, is relationship-building, right? And personality management, and all of that. Nia: Personality management? [Laughs] Anthony: [Laughs] That's what I always think about. It's relationships and personality management. Because you have to figure out how do you get all these people in a room? How do you get them to get along. You know? And it was beautiful. That moment was not beautiful for them, obviously, but it was beautiful later to thinking that that person thought to call me. That I had showed enough kindness, and strength, and beauty, and vulnerability to them, that they felt comfortable doing that. So when I have a bad day, there's a few people I know in my head that I can text. And when I don't feel like texting anybody, I can journal. And when I don't feel like journaling, which I usually actually don't feel like journaling. [Laughs] If I don't feel like doing any of those things I can tweet about it. Sometimes that can just make me feel better. So, in response to your thing, I think we really have to think about what are the community-based solutions, and usually for me it starts with people. It starts with individuals I can text. Sometimes, you don't have to text somebody and say “I'm not doing well.” Sometimes you can text “Hi.” You can text “How are you?” You can distract yourself with somebody else's something. You can send a signal without sending a signal. You just can't be mad that somebody doesn't pick up on that signal because it's not always clear. I have a friend who sometimes texts me, and he was like “Hey.” I didn't know until later that sometimes when he was texting me, it was because he wasn't doing well, but he didn't necessarily want to say that. But I text back, either a day later, or immediately, generally. I texted back immediately, and later I found out he wasn't doing very great, but talking to me helped. So I think it's really important to establish who in your life can you do that with. And even if there's one person that you did it with, and you felt betrayed, and it didn't work, it's important to try again, if possible. But I can only speak for myself. I understand that when we get hurt, it's hard to try again. It's hard to do it, particularly as people that think we can pray it away, or think that we can drink it away, or think that we can smoke it away, or cut it away, or whatever. We think we're different, like, “I'm not the one.” “I deal with depression, but it's not that bad.” Or, “I don't deal with it.” We always think we're some exception. I know I did. And then it hits you and it's like, “Oh, fuck. Nope. Uh-uhh. I'm just like every other human. This sucks.” So yeah. That's my thoughts on that. Transcribed by Joyce Hatton.