Adrienne called out my name. “Debbie, the Cambridge Police are asking for you at the front desk.” I froze and my mind immediately went to Farah. What has happened? What trouble is she in? I quickly met the police in the reception area, and they asked if there was a place we could sit down. Adrienne knew just what to do, she led us to the front meeting room and sat with me. “Are you Farah’s mother?” I answered, “yes, what has happened?” The officer, with tears in her eyes, says, “mam, I am so sorry to inform you that Farah has died.” All at once, the world changed, I was in shock. The sparsely appointed meeting room of the non-profit agency suddenly took on new meaning: it would always be the place I learned my daughter had died by suicide and the world changed forever.
Farah’s life was complicated. Her life, while defined by trauma on many levels, including racism, addiction, and a brain health disorder, it was also defined by an immense capacity for love, creativity, athleticism, humor, and the ability to touch people’s hearts. She was a bi-racial woman born in 1976, only nine years after miscegenation (inter-racial marriage) was legalized in the United States. Miscegenation was met with anger and racism and the children of these marriages were subjected to the indignation of racism, especially in the south.
Farah was born to parents from Arkansas and Kansas, both who experienced poverty, brain health disorders, and violence. As Farah’s mother, I saw how the cruelty of racism both shaped my daughter and hurt her. This cruelty exacerbated an unsettled mind. When she was 11, she discovered her athletic talent as a basketball player; she played at Loyola University of Chicago on a scholarship. This incredible talent was a liability as well to someone with a brain health disorder. She was socialized in an environment of poverty and as a person of color, she had to find a way out and achievement was that way out, it also caused difficulty.
Along with growing up in a culture of poverty and racism, she experienced sexual assault. This when combined with compromised brain health, led to a life of suffering despite achievement and accolades. The trauma occurred when her brain was in an active stage of development and it was permanently changed. It was the beginning of a life of never feeling safe and secure in her skin. For a white, middle class person, this might have had a different outcome, but for Farah, it became a struggle she could not overcome; she became tired.
As an adolescent, Farah became a regular consumer of psychological services. These services were never adequate, she was institutionalized for the first time when she was 13 and this set a devastating course of events. The answer to “her problem” was to warehouse her and others, rather than effectively treat her brain health disorder and trauma. What about her parents? What were they doing? Well, we were listening to doctors and this relates back to poverty because parenting styles can be characterized by socioeconomic status; lower economic statuses correlate to more trust in doctors and institutions.
Farah graduated from high school, went on to college to play basketball where her brain health became more compromised. It not only was brain health; it also was the disease of addiction which she inherited from me, her mother’s side of the family. She became deeply addicted to alcohol and drugs which caused even more complications. It was when the disease of addiction reared its ugly face, that she learned people of color were treated differently. She could not support herself and had to rely on government programs for both physical and mental needs. People of color are overrepresented in the numbers of those who are managed with inadequate government programs. Farah needed certain medication to help her manage her brain disorder, these medications are also used recreationally, and therefore, Farah had to face that at every emergency room or doctor visit, she was viewed as a drug-seeking person of color.
As she entered her late 20s and 30s, she went to treatment several times and put together a string of short amounts of sobriety. During these times her love of music, art, and poetry surfaced as ways for her to make a living and to feel good about herself. She taught herself how to play guitar, harmonica, drums, and piano and mastered these. She loved music. Her ultimate talent was as a singer-songwriter. Her voice was unique, and her music's depth moved and inspired all who listened. She wrote hundreds of songs. Ultimately, two years before she died, she began a permanent walk in recovery which included working with others trying to stay sober. There were moments of happiness in these two years, but the impact of her early years were never far from her mind.
Even in recovery, she was hospitalized and subjected to de-humanizing treatment through a system of care that is inadequate. It is the system of care people without insurance and financial means must be satisfied with. Her last hospitalization was what “broke the camel’s back.” In her early 30s, she was diagnosed with dissociative disorder and one weekend she suddenly took off. We had to enlist the help of law enforcement to locate her and get her to safety, but the safety caused her to permanently leave us. She wound up in an emergency room in Mason City, Iowa where there is little experience with people of color, addiction, and brain disorders. She told me she overhead a nurse says, “let’s put a sign on her that says ‘not welcome in Iowa’.” They refused to care for her. I immediately drove to Mason City to pick her up. On the way back, she was quiet. She was sober, but quiet. After the four-hour drive home, I asked her to come spend the night with me and she said, “no Mom, you snore.” I took her home and she looked at me and said, “I will never go to another hospital or psychiatric unit.” I told her I understood, that we would figure it out. I left her that evening about 5:00 p.m. and at 4:00 a.m. the next morning, she had died by hanging. Her AA sponsor discovered her body and she is the one who sent the police to their intersection with me in the meeting room where they shared the details of her death. The news the police came to share that day was not welcome news and it was beyond devastating, but it was understandable because she was tired. Farah’s life was greatly affected by the complications of brain health disorders. She was born at an intersection of poverty, racism, brain health disorders, and addiction to young parents who, themselves, suffered these same maladies. Farah left a legacy of love in her art and music and she left this world loved by many.