From ceramics to barber cuts, community-based programs support people skeptical of mental health

Community care helps individuals through mutual support and nurtures the well-being of the larger community. This approach, often used by people of color and LGBTQ+ communities, is usually based on the community's values, supporting it through mutual aid, healing, and faith.

It is an effective way to reach underserved communities because of the amount of trust involved—especially since many communities of color distrust the medical system. Community care has also been around for generations, thanks to the wisdom and trust that exists within the community.

Cleveland-based certified nurse practitioner Mary Louise Tatum, who specializes in psychology, has found establishing trust difficult but crucial for community-based programs.

"It's very slow and very tedious, but once they open up, you got to be ready for the blast of emotion," Tatum told Stacker. "Because the emotions are there, and you got to realize the emotions aren't personal. Sometimes that stuff is still bottled up."

Through community care initiatives, people of color can find programs and professionals who understand their values, backgrounds, and the history of their culture. In their role at SIPA, Gana counsels many Filipino families through their children coming out as queer or transgender. Gana is Filipino and came out as nonbinary to their own family recently.

They use that experience to inform their approach to other families seeking care, pointing out that many aspects of Filipino culture are gender-neutral. For instance, there are Filipino Indigenous healers called babaylan who transcend gender. The Tagalog language doesn't use the pronouns "she" or "he"; instead, it uses the gender-neutral "siya" (pronounced "sha").

Gana pointed out that language accessibility is a huge issue for the Filipino and Latino communities that SIPA serves in LA. Although they often work with their patients in Tagalog, they noted that the culture has many other languages, including Ilocano and Kapampangan.

"We need folks who are culturally competent, who are fluent in the multiple languages that we have," they said. "There'd be some families that would meet where their first language is Kapampangan, or Bisaya, which is the southern region of the Philippines; their second language is Tagalog; and their third language is English."

Community care takes several forms—and it's not always formal talk therapy. While Gana counsels families and adolescents, SIPA offers sound baths, meditation, and support groups.

The nonprofit has also been running a program in LA schools called Walang Hiya, or "without shame" in Tagalog, which was originally considered a derogatory term. However, Gana said the program wanted to reclaim it through this program that educates high school-aged youth about depression, anxiety, and the impacts of racism.

The BWYC holds yoga classes, sound healing events, self-care spaces, and retreats emphasizing community connection. Muse said BWYC keeps the admissions costs low—or free—to ensure the wellness events are accessible to the community.

"We tailor to the needs of the Black community by addressing certain issues that might not be talked about in different wellness spaces, around Blackness and around the ways that microaggressions happen in the workplace and out in the world," she said. "[We're] really just creating a space where Black people can feel heard, seen, and understood."

Some versions of community care look unexpected. LA-based POT hosts therapeutic pottery workshops in an inclusive space that aims to uplift communities of color. The National Alliance on Mental Illness started the online resource NAMI Sharing Hope to support those of Black and African ancestry.

Another type of community care is meeting the community where it already goes. For the Black community, Tatum said barbers are "the unofficial therapists. They're the ministers. They're unofficial everything." In 2023, she started Beyond the Cut, a Northwest Ohio program to provide mental health training to barbering students, partnering with LaBarberia Institute in Mayfield Heights, Ohio.

Tatum taught the barber college students about mental health and community issues, such as experiencing homelessness and dealing with health insurance. After these talks, many of the students, predominantly Black men around 18 to 30, came to her for personal advice.

"I thought I was going to give them a skill set to work with their clients," she said. "It ended up that a lot of them have traumas, so it was a lot more than what I expected. … I had to help them help themselves first."

Tatum brought in a Mental Health First Aid trainer for the students and instructors to learn how to respond to mental health and substance use challenges. At the end of the training, they received a certificate, an accomplishment she noticed the students were particularly proud of.

"Some of them are putting their certifications out there with their student barber license on the mirror," Tatum said. "And that gave me pride walking to the barber school and seeing them putting up their Mental Health First Aid certificate. … It's not easy. It's a lot of work, but they did it."

Story editing by Carren Jao. Copy editing by Paris Close. Photo selection by Lacy Kerrick.