By the time, this post goes live, God willing, another birthday would have passed without “Junior” in my life. My closest friends are very familiar with Junior but not even they know what I plan to share today.
When I think about Junior, I can’t quite make out the details of his face because it has been so long. I know that we resemble each other quite a bit. He stood about 6 feet 2 inches tall. He was very handsome. In fact, he could easily be mistaken for Boston Celtics basketball player, Ray Allen. As a kid, he was identified as profoundly gifted at an early age. His IQ was in the 170s. He skipped not one, but two grades. He attended college classes while in elementary school. He taught himself to play the guitar and idolized Jimmy Hendrix. He would put together complex puzzles in a matter of minutes. He taught me multiplication when I was in the 1st grade so I could brag to my friends. He used to write computer programs for his Commodore 64. Only two and half years separate our births. I loved him so much. I hate that I talk about him in the past tense. He is alive somewhere, but I can’t tell you where. I wish I could see him and introduce him to my husband and kids, but I can’t. You see, my brother suffers from paranoid-schizophrenia, and we are now estranged.
Like most issues, mental illness is often ignored in Haitian culture. It can be thought of being brought on by some type of curse, evil spirits, or some jealous person resorting to Voudou. As a result, very few Haitians seek professional help but rather rely on religious based solutions.
In my case it was no different. The signs were there early on. As a result of testing in elementary school, Junior’s IQ was figured to be 172. He skipped two grade levels and had a hard time fitting in the kids in our neighborhood so he often stayed alone. He preferred being inside playing with algorithms rather than dealing with his peers. He had very few interpersonal relationships growing up and from my recollection never had a girlfriend. As he got older, he started putting his thoughts to paper about the anger he felt inside. He did not feel accepted by society. He hated his black skin and wished he were born with white skin. His writings became violent over time, mentioning bodily harm to people whom he felt were out to get him.
As my brother’s behavior grew more disturbing, rather than seek professional help, my mother would convene prayer circles to pray over him and cleanse him with oils. She would tell relatives that people were jealous of his intelligence and knew he wanted to become a doctor. After a brief hospitalization, doctors recommended my brother be medicated, but my mother was of the belief that medication would only worsen the problem. So she sent him to Haiti for “treatment”. My brother returned months later but still he was unchanged. By this time, he was an adult and decided he wanted to join the military. He did not pass the psychological evaluation. That was the last time I ever saw him. He fell into a deeper state of delusion. He was no longer based in reality.
They say there is a fine line between genius and insanity. Junior had crossed the line and gone way beyond its borders. There was no getting him back. Over the years, he has lived on the streets and has been seen distributing flyers containing his manifesto. His writings have gotten the attention of the FBI and I have been contacted on several occasions. Not surprisingly, we remain estranged.
My brother’s condition remains the proverbial elephant in the room at family functions. Everyone knows it exists and are curious but no one wants to talk about it for fear of my mother’s reaction. She and I have unspoken polar opposite views on the topic. I think she knows, that in the end, I just can’t be my brother’s keeper.
Does anyone close to you suffer from mental illness? How does your family deal with it? Are they open to professional advice ?
Thank you for sharing such a personal story.
I have an older female cousin who also suffers from schizophrenia. Even though my Haitian family did seek out professional help, I still hear family members talk about how her illness was brought on my a curse.
Mitchelle,
I hope that one day our culture moves beyond the “curse” explanation. It is such a touchy subject that I doubt things will change anytime soon.
Thanks for sharing your personal story also.
I am in awe of the courage, compassion, and grace it took to share this story. Wonderfully written, obviously heartfelt, and immensely important. Thank you.
Thank you, George. This was a difficult post for me. I debated the pros and cons over and over. Your comment affirms that I made the right decision. Thanks again.
This was very brave of you to write….I had a cousin who tried desperately to convince me and other Haitian family members that she suffered from depression…taking meds and everything. The funny thing is…no one EVER talked about it out loud…including me…and i’m a social worker…who is very familiar with seeing patients with mental illness…after i read this, i realize that it was taboo to even think it…i mean, not my family, right?!…great post….
Thanks Rose.
For years, friends and family tip toed around us when it came to my brother. They still do, who am I kidding? I didn’t come to terms with it until I was contacted by the FBI. When it is so close, you really do think, no way, not us?! Can’t be.
Thanks for sharing such a heartfelt story, DJ. I hope you realize you are not alone in this. I think by sharing this story not only may it be therapeutic for you, but also helpful to someone who has had a similar experience. The mental illness of a loved one may be a taboo subject (in MANY communities/families), but it is certainly not uncommon. If more people do as you did and start a dialogue about it — I’m sure that would help more than hurt. I applaud your bravery and honestly. Great post!
Thank you for your kind words. They are appreciated.
i read this story a cpl weeks ago but couldn’t reply right away…. in any case, a really heartfelt piece & i actually got choked up the first time i read it. i applaud you for sharing. as a haitian-american & mental health professional, i got into this field with hopes of helping my community and have YET to see a haitian client LOL. the stigma is too great and haitians rarely seek conventional treatment, especially when your culture has a whole different set of explanations (and therefore “cures”) for the illness anyway. there are far too many untreated mental health problems in the haitian community, and like you point out, many of them are our friends or in our families. medicine isn’t the only answer but neither is a candle. we need to be working together -clinicians alongside the traditional healers and clergy.
Really great post, CBC!
Thanks Gardith! It is amazing that our culture would rather explain it away before seeking professional help. A great start would be with the clergy, as you mentioned, giving families options so that they don’t feel alienated. I know in my case it would have made a tremendous difference. Continue your good work, let us know if you see a Haitian patient! Thanks Again.