Healing Across Generations: A Call to Action for BIPOC Mental Wellness

By Dr. Amanda Lewis-Yarbrough, ABPP

Licensed Clinical Psychologist, Board Certified in Clinical Psychology

In my work as a psychologist, I’ve sat with people of all ages—children who struggle to name their feelings, teens exhausted by unspoken expectations, adults worn down by the stress of doing it all, and elders who were taught to suffer in silence. Some come to therapy for the first time, unsure of what to expect. Others come after years of carrying invisible wounds. I often hear phrases like, “We didn’t talk about mental health growing up,” or “I thought I had to be strong for everyone else.” These are not isolated experiences—they are part of a much larger pattern within Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC) communities.

What we’re seeing isn’t just personal pain—it’s generational. And it’s a call for healing that can no longer go unanswered.

Mental Health Is a Generational Issue

The mental health crisis in BIPOC communities doesn’t begin or end with one age group. It’s passed down, often silently, through behaviors, beliefs, and barriers to care. A child who struggles with emotional regulation may be reflecting a parent’s unresolved trauma. A teen showing signs of depression might be internalizing the stress they’ve seen at home. An elder may resist therapy because they were raised to “keep family business in the family.” Far too many adults are juggling caregiving, financial pressures, and personal pain with no space to process any of it.

Even when BIPOC individuals reach out for support, many find themselves met with stigma or misunderstanding. Cultural expressions of distress are often misdiagnosed or minimized. Emotional responses to injustice are dismissed. The result? People retreat. Families stay silent. Whole generations grow up believing that therapy is “not for us.”

According to Snowden (2001), systemic and cultural barriers—including racism, poverty, and inadequate access—are core contributors to underutilization of mental health services among African Americans and other marginalized groups. These issues don’t just affect individuals; they shape family systems and community health outcomes over generations.

Healing Must Be Culturally Rooted and Community-Led

Mental wellness in our communities cannot be addressed with one-size-fits-all solutions. Effective care must honor culture, language, spirituality, and history. That means more than just diversity in staffing—it requires real cultural responsiveness and humility.

Cultural humility, as defined by Hook et al. (2013), involves not just competence, but an ongoing commitment to self-reflection, learning, and respect for each client’s unique identity and lived experience. For clinicians, that means being open to feedback, resisting the urge to assume expertise over another person’s life, and ensuring therapy is collaborative—not prescriptive.

In my practice, that looks like acknowledging the role of faith, validating the impact of racism, and creating a space where clients feel seen—not scrutinized. Healing intergenerational trauma is not easy, but when we begin breaking the cycle, the benefits ripple across families and communities.

Everyone Has a Role in Changing the Narrative

Mental health is not just the responsibility of therapists—it belongs to all of us.

Parents and caregivers can model emotional honesty and validate their children’s feelings.
Educators can integrate wellness into the classroom and advocate for student support services.
Faith leaders can reduce stigma by speaking openly about mental health from the pulpit.
Community mentors, elders, and leaders can use their platforms to normalize the need for emotional support and encourage others to get help.

When care and compassion become part of our community culture—not just something found in clinics—we begin to rewrite the story of mental health in BIPOC spaces.

Let’s Normalize Mental Health Across All Ages

If someone has asthma, diabetes, or high blood pressure, we encourage them to get treatment. But when it comes to depression, trauma, or anxiety—especially in communities of color—people are often told to “pray it away” or “stay strong.”

We need to shift the narrative.

Children need to know it’s okay to cry. Teens need safe spaces to talk about stress, identity, and peer pressure. Adults need room to breathe, to ask for help, and to stop trying to carry it all alone. Elders need permission to speak about the pain they’ve carried for decades—and to finally let some of it go.

Mental health is not a weakness. Seeking help is not failure. It’s an act of survival—and an act of love.

Where Do We Go from Here?

The future of BIPOC mental wellness depends on both systemic change and individual courage. We need:

More BIPOC therapists and providers who reflect and understand the communities they serve.
Accessible, affordable care across urban, rural, and underserved areas.
Emotional literacy in schools, churches, and community centers.
Safe, inclusive spaces for people of all ages to talk about what they feel and what they need.

But perhaps most importantly—we need to give one another permission to heal.

Let’s Heal—Together

Healing is not just possible—it’s necessary. For our children, our families, and our future.

Let’s stop the silence. Let’s start the conversation. Let’s heal—together. And as I often remind my clients and community: mental health is not a weakness. It’s time we speak up, show up, and, as my guiding motto says, truly work to #EndTheStigma.

References

Hook, J. N., Davis, D. E., Owen, J., Worthington, E. L. Jr., & Utsey, S. O. (2013). Cultural humility: Measuring openness to culturally diverse clients. Journal of Counseling Psychology, 60(3), 353–366. https://doi.org/10.1037/a0032595
Snowden, L. R. (2001). Barriers to effective mental health services for African Americans. Journal of Health and Social Behavior, 42(1), 23–38. https://doi.org/10.2307/3090225