Finding Courage: Love and Advocacy In Confronting Black Mental Health

It was 3 AM on a spring Saturday night in 2006 or 2007. My phone rang in my Northwest Washingt

on, DC apartment. On the other end was my best friend Larry‘s younger brother calling from Florida. His words were rushed. His tone was urgent and he

sounded somewhat frightened. He asked me if I could call Larry. I’m pretty sure I had to ask him to repeat the scenario at least once, maybe twice. Apparently, Larry had taken their car after an argument, in what we would l

ater recognize was a manic episode. Larry wasn’t picking up his phone and no one knew where he was. Once I woke up enough to understand what was happening, I called Larry. Thank God he picked up.

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