Faith leaders of color fill mental health gap.

Pastor Tabatha Whitten didn’t want to believe she was depressed.

It was 10 years ago, and her mother had died. Whitten could feel herself spiraling, but she was determined to keep functioning in her daily life.

In her job as a social worker, she had tough conversations with client families about their feelings. But when she was struggling, Whitten hesitated to talk to anyone.

“It was very difficult for me to think ‘I’m a little depressed — what is that about?’ There was something going on with my mental health that made me uncomfortable,” Whitten said. “But as much as we teach and train others about this, there’s something in us that feels shame.”

Whitten leads Remnant Ministries, a multicultural church in Houston’s Fifth Ward. She has seen increased depression, nervous feelings and paranoia among her 100-member congregation since the first coronavirus lockdown measures began in March 2020.

Whitten said communities of color are private in their struggles, especially when it involves their mental health. Many in her community don’t want to appear like they don’t “have it together.”

“We never want to be seen in a light that’s less than our best,” she said. “We have this idea about people being in our business, so we don’t tell anyone. We don’t believe in counseling — that means you’re ‘crazy.’ ”

The COVID-19 pandemic, political division, depictions of police violence and financial problems have compounded feelings of anxiety and depression among communities of color, said Matthew Stanford, CEO of the Hope and Healing Center and Institute.

These groups typically do not have access to the same mental health care options as affluent white people, Stanford added. And he said there are few opportunities for Black, Hispanic and Asian Americans to move beyond social determinants — lack of transportation, health insurance and child care — that hold them back from accessing better care.

Because there is greater unemployment and less access to physical health care, many people of color do not believe mental health care is “for them,” Stanford said.

Since the pandemic started, 15 percent of Americans have reported depression disorders, while 30 percent said they feel more anxiety, said Dr. Biren Patel, behavioral health specialist at Kelsey-Seybold Clinic.

Studies show that people of color now are disproportionately affected by world stressors, Patel said. Asian Americans have seen an increase in hate crimes and discrimination, while Black Americans have been bombarded with news of Black people being shot by police on a regular basis.

And while cultural stigmas surrounding mental health can account for why some people don’t seek help, Patel believes there are just fewer affordable options for Black, Latino and Asian American groups.

But there are ways to feel better.

“Going forward, the best thing I’ve seen is people working together,” Patel said. “Whether you’re Asian American, African American, Hispanic or even white, working together to help address these issues — that’s where our real strength lies.”

Data from the National Institutes of Health show people are more likely to go to a clergy member before a mental health care provider or physician. So the Hope and Healing Center brought mental health care training to the clergy.

“We’ve seen this as a greater burden on faith communities because more people are going there for assistance,” Stanford said. “But frankly, they’re not trained to do these services.”

Religion is a psychological and social resource that a 2020 NIH study called a “source of resiliency for many racial and ethnic minority populations.”

It’s a sustaining force as people push through hardships — one that the study says is “deeply embedded in the culture, community life and group identity of many racial/ethnic majority populations, such as Black and Latino Americans.”

A pastor has to be more than a spiritual leader, Whitten said. Oftentimes, faith leaders are friends, kinfolk and a wise voice in a community, and that differentiation is important for people who need someone to talk to.

“The truth is, we deal in a method of counseling all the time — we talk to our cousins, grandparents, family members; the problem is we talk to people who aren’t properly trained,” Whitten said. “We continue a cycle that’s in place because no one has been able to convey what really needs to be conveyed in a situation. It’s continued crisis.”

Turning on the news in 2020 has become traumatic for many in Whitten’s congregation. Increased reports of police killings, violent protests and daily death tolls due to COVID-19 put their already-existing stressors in front of their faces, she said.

But older Americans — or “Generation Hush” as Whitten calls them — and younger generations like millennials — “Generation Tell It All” — react differently to the images on the screen.

“The older generation was taught to not say anything, just comply. But that was a different time,” she explained. “On one hand, there is post-traumatic stress being kicked up, and on the other hand, we’re dealing with a sense of liberation that’s under attack as well.”

Whitten has received training from Hope and Healing Center that helps her understand when her members are experiencing mental distress. She can work with them directly or refer them to a health provider.

“I always like to start with telling people to give themselves permission to be wherever they are,” Whitten said. “Give yourself permission to reach out to another person and be patient in the process. So many times, we want something fixed now, and we’re discouraged with the process because we want immediate gratification.”

“But ‘the whole cake is not baked.’ Keep participating and have faith in the process.”

Jon Shapley / Staff photographer Pastor Tabatha Whitten says she’s seen increased depression among her congregants. One of the biggest obstacles for them is the stigma associated with mental health care, she says.