Suicidality, Silence, and the Power of Connection

Sep 16

Naming the Silence

I want to be transparent: suicidal thoughts are not foreign to me. And I know I’m not alone in that. Many of us carry them quietly, sometimes daily, whether we admit it or not. In Black and Brown communities, the silence around this truth can feel like protection. We’re taught that voicing such thoughts risks judgment, pathologizing, or punishment. But silence does not protect us. Connection does.

Beyond Individual Pathology

Too often, suicidality gets flattened into a personal flaw, a chemical imbalance, or an individual pathology. That framing erases the conditions we live inside of—the realities that grind at our sense of worth and possibility. The truth is layered: surviving in systems that dismiss our humanity, exploit our labor, erase our voices, and demand resilience without reprieve leaves wounds. Those wounds can fester into despair.

Suicidal thoughts don’t exist in a vacuum. They’re tethered to trauma, oppression, racism, isolation, and the weight of expectations to keep going no matter what.

The Erasure of Black Experiences

And yet, our experiences are rarely named in the larger suicide prevention conversation. We know Black people die by suicide too—but that truth is often erased. The dominant narratives around suicidality are still overwhelmingly white-centered. This invisibility leaves Black communities without the visibility, language, and resources we deserve.

It also feeds the myth that we are somehow untouched by suicidality, when in fact the opposite is true: systemic racism compounds our risks.

Why Naming Matters

That’s why I deeply value the work of Black People Die By Suicide Too. Their mission is not just about awareness—it’s about affirmation. It’s about naming what many of us already know in our bones: our lives, our struggles, and our stories matter. It’s about making space for us to be seen in our full humanity, even in our pain.

What Healing Connection Looks Like

When someone trusts us enough to name their suicidal thoughts, our instincts may betray us. We might panic, minimize, try to fix, or quickly redirect to “look on the bright side.” But that only deepens the loneliness. The most healing response is not a solution—it’s presence. It’s connection.

Sometimes the most powerful words are the simplest ones:

“Thank you for trusting me with this.”
“I’m here with you right now.”
“We don’t have to figure everything out today. And you don’t have to hold this alone.”

Connection is not just a soft offering—it’s a radical intervention in a world that isolates us.

Co-Creating Crisis Plans

One way to build that connection is through co-creating a crisis plan. Not a rigid checklist handed down by a provider, but a living document shaped by the person’s own voice, values, and truths. It might include:

Who they can call when the thoughts feel overwhelming
Grounding rituals, prayers, or practices that help them return to their body
Music, poetry, or words that remind them they belong here
Places, people, or communities that make life feel more possible

This isn’t about erasing suicidality—it’s about building scaffolding strong enough to hold someone through it.

Planting Connection

We need to shift the story: talking about suicidality is not planting an idea. It’s planting connection. And connection, in the face of systems that want us silent and isolated, is a form of resistance. It’s a reminder that our lives are not disposable. It’s how we save each other.