Young Black People Experience Physical, Emotional Toll of Racism, Studies Show

In this op-ed, Jameelah Nasheed writes about how racial discrimination against Black teens leads to anxiety, depression, and increased substance use.
Community organizations and Activists demanding police accountability gathered for a rally and march at the clock in...
Erik McGregor

I was 22 years old when Trayvon Martin was killed. I remember like it was yesterday. A year later, I sat with a friend and watched news coverage of his killer, George Zimmerman, receiving a not guilty verdict on murder and manslaughter charges. My friend was a 20-something-year-old tall, Black man at the very beginning of his career as an attorney. I remember looking at him and thinking, he could have been Trayvon. Trayvon could have been him. We were heartbroken and angry with the verdict, but we weren’t surprised.

A year after Trayvon’s verdict, Eric Garner was killed. One month later, Mike Brown was killed and his body was left in the street for the world to see — for four hours — like he wasn’t a human being. Like he wasn’t a teenager. I’d known about racism for as long as I could remember, but something was happening to me. One morning, as I pulled into the parking lot of my job, a report came on the radio about a Black college student being physically attacked on his school campus by someone who referred to him using a racial slur. I don’t remember the details of this incident — partially because racially motivated attacks and killings seemed to be happening on such a regular basis. I just remember how the report made me feel. It broke me. I lost it. I sat in my car for the next several minutes crying uncontrollably. I’ll never forget that feeling of hopelessness, exhaustion, anger, and indescribable anxiety that I could no longer suppress. I always knew being Black in America would mean my life would be more challenging. I didn’t anticipate the mental and physical toll it would take.

Here we are, almost six years later and three years into the presidency of the most openly racist president many of us have ever witnessed. Things haven’t gotten any better. According to a recent study published by the Journal of Applied Developmental Psychology, on average, Black adolescents experience racial discrimination five times a day — often online. Sometimes this discrimination can manifest as a microaggression (like the time a teacher asked if they could call me Jamie, since Jameelah was too challenging for them), and sometimes it can present as outright racist behavior and language. For anyone paying attention to their surroundings and the news, this shouldn’t come as a surprise.

So far this year, Salisbury University canceled classes after graffiti was discovered in academic buildings threatening Black students with lynching. A Chapman University student was arrested after he went on a tirade saying, “I hate n******,” and allegedly destroyed property. The video circulated widely online. At the University of Richmond in Virginia the N-word was written on the dorm name tag of a Black student, and in Florida, a white high school teacher was captured on camera using the N-word, saying, “It’s a free country, freedom of speech, right?” (He said in a statement to the local PBS affiliate that he detests the word and was trying to use the moment to demonstrate how the word has shock appeal and “as a short parody of who believes that this hate language is protected by our First Amendment.”)

A few weeks ago, details of an incident involving Jaylan Butler, a 20-year-old swimmer at Eastern Illinois University, made headlines. According to a lawsuit filed by Butler, who is being represented by attorneys from the American Civil Liberties Union of Illinois, in February 2019, Butler, a sophomore, was traveling on a bus with his swim team from a college championship tournament when the bus pulled over so the team could stretch their legs. It was around 8 p.m. near East Moline, Illinois. Jaylan snapped a picture of the road sign for the team’s social media account, and as he walked back to the bus several police officers approached him — with guns drawn. According to the lawsuit, Jaylan was pinned to the ground by officers while another officer handcuffed him. One officer held a gun to his head and threatened to “blow his [expletive] head off,” the lawsuit states.

If the goal of this year’s Black History Month goal was to remind young Black people that oppression and racism persists in America, consider the last few months a success. Then again, that’s a lesson that Black people like Jaylan learn early. “My dad taught me at a young age what to do when you are stopped by police officers – stop instantly, put your hands up, drop anything you are holding, and drop to your knees,” he said. “I hoped I would never have to use this advice in my life, but all that changed in seconds.”

In February 2020, the Anti-Defamation League released a report that said the white supremacist movement’s targeting of college students began increasing in January 2016, and has continued ever since. Cases of white supremacist actions, both on and off campus, more than doubled from 1,214 in 2018 to 2,713 in 2019. This is the highest number of propaganda incidents ever recorded by the ADL.

Imagine going to school to learn about the fairness of our justice system, only to bear witness to the mass murders and assaults of young people who look like you. Imagine seeing the perpetrators of these violent acts going free so much of the time. The Journal of Applied Developmental Psychology reported, “persistent racial discrimination targeting Black adolescents contributes to increased psychological symptoms, increased substance use, decreased academic achievement, and increased physiological problems.” In addition, CNN reported that a study in the journal Pediatrics found that the rate of reported suicide attempts by African American teens rose from 1991 to 2017, even as it fell among other racial and ethnic groups. It also found that Black children between the ages of five and 12 have a suicide rate twice as high as white children.

As Black people, we’re taught how to navigate spaces that are occupied by white people — especially those in authority — before most white people have ever had to think about their race. There are young Black people fighting for equality and for the right to live — without being subject to racial slurs, threats of lynching, guns being aimed at their heads, or worse — before they’ve even had a chance to find out who they are. Before they’ve gotten their driver’s license, before their first kiss, before they’ve gotten a chance to make and learn from their mistakes. Of course, racism is taking a physical toll on young Black people. It always has, and I’m looking forward to the day when it no longer does.

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