Bearing the Weight of BIPOC Grief
- Tammy Isaac DMin
- Jul 2
- 3 min read
July marks BIPOC Mental Health Awareness Month, a time set aside to amplify the unique mental health experiences of Black, Indigenous, and People of Color but too often, the role of grief in those experiences goes unspoken. Let’s change that.
Originally inspired by the life and work of Bebe Moore Campbell, a fierce advocate for mental health equity in communities of color, this month is a call to action. It exists to raise awareness about the barriers BIPOC communities face when seeking emotional and psychological support barriers like cultural stigma, lack of representation, medical mistrust, and limited access to care. But mental health isn't just about anxiety or depression. It's also about grief and for BIPOC individuals, grief wears many faces.
Grief in BIPOC communities is often layered and generational. It isn’t only the loss of a loved one. It’s:
The grief of historical trauma—slavery, displacement, colonization, and assimilation.
The grief of systemic erasure—when stories, voices, and cultural ways of grieving are dismissed or pathologized.
The grief of unmet potential—when dreams are deferred by racism, poverty, incarceration, or immigration challenges.
The grief of survival—when we carry the weight of being strong because we had no other choice.
It’s the kind of grief that doesn’t always come with casseroles, flowers, or time off work. The kind that often goes unnamed because we’ve been taught that naming it makes us weak, or ungrateful, or too much. But grief doesn’t go away when it’s silenced. It burrows deeper. It makes a home in the body. It waits for a moment any moment when it can finally breathe.
This month matters because too many of us have been told we’re “resilient” when what we really needed was to be softened by presence, seen in our sorrow, and held without judgment. This month matters because grief in BIPOC communities often goes unsupported even within our own communities. Cultural pride can sometimes silence vulnerability. Faith can unintentionally mask pain. And history has taught us not to trust the systems meant to help. So, we suffer quietly. We carry on. But inside, we’re holding generations of grief that need air and compassion.
Ways You Can Honor BIPOC Grief This Month
Listen Deeply – Ask someone how they’re really doing, and then let the silence speak. Let them show you the grief they rarely name.
Learn the History – Take time to understand the cultural and systemic roots of grief in BIPOC communities. Read authors like Bebe Moore Campbell, Resmaa Menakem, or Bell Hooks.
Say Their Names – Honor those whose lives were lost due to injustice, invisibility, or abandonment by broken systems. Make room for remembrance.
Affirm the Right to Grieve – Tell someone in your life: “You are allowed to feel this. You don’t have to hold it alone.”
Be a Safe Space – Whether you’re a friend, therapist, faith leader, or coworker create room for stories that don’t fit inside neat lines. Offer softness instead of solutions.
This month, may we all give grief the dignity of attention. Not to fix it. Not to rush it. But simply to say: “I see you. I honor your pain. I will not look away.”
With tenderness,
– Dr. Tammy Isaac
In this blog, I reflect on the paradox of celebration and sorrow during Independence Day, and what it means to still be grieving freedom that’s been promised but not fully lived. Read it here and sit with your own layered emotions.
Tune in this Monday for Season Three of the Permission to Breathe Podcast! Available on Spotify, Apple, or wherever you stream your podcasts. Season 3 will continue to explore the emotional, spiritual, and physical journey of grief from the quiet ache that lingers to the courage it takes to live again. We’ll hold space for topics that are often unspoken, invite powerful voices to share their stories, and offer honest insights that meet you right where you are. If you’ve ever needed a place to just be, to cry, to process, to hope Season 3 is for you. New season. New conversations. Same safe space to exhale and heal.
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