Healed People Heal People: A Love Letter to Our Collective Mental Health
- Project SaySomething
- Jul 7
- 3 min read
“Healing is not a destination, it’s a daily rebellion.”
Dear Family,
We live in a world that has tried to convince us that our pain is something to hide. That vulnerability is weakness. That rest is laziness. That therapy is for “them.” That silence is survival.
But here’s the truth: our healing is our power.
For generations, Black, Brown, and Indigenous communities have carried the weight of collective trauma, passed down like an inheritance none of us asked for. From stolen lands to stolen bodies, from broken treaties to broken systems, our people have survived histories of brutality with brilliance, resistance, and grit. But survival is not the same as healing.
And too often, pain left untreated becomes the seed of more pain. As the saying goes, “Hurt people hurt people.” And we know this to be true. We’ve seen how trauma echoes in our families, how unspoken grief can turn into rage, how isolation morphs into addiction, how fear wears the mask of control.
But here’s the second half of that truth:
Healed people heal people.
When we choose healing, when we show up for ourselves with softness, with grace, with radical self-love, we interrupt the cycle. We become medicine. We become safety. We become sanctuary, not just for ourselves, but for those around us.
Yet healing is not easy. It requires courage. Especially in communities where seeking help is still met with side-eyes or silence. In too many of our homes, therapy is seen as betrayal. Mental illness is whispered about, if acknowledged at all. Our feelings are often policed, too angry, too emotional, too weak. And the systems? They don’t make it easy. Access to culturally competent care is limited. Insurance barriers, cost, and racism in healthcare institutions all create walls between us and the support we deserve.
So what do we do?
We remember who we are.
We reclaim the ancestral knowledge that tells us healing is not new, it’s ancient. We remember the ways our grandmothers healed through food and song. We remember that our communities have always practiced mutual aid, have always sat in circles, have always prayed and wept and celebrated together.
Healing looks like therapy and it also looks like rest.
It looks like saying “no” without guilt.
It looks like journaling, crying, running, dancing, meditating, being still.
It looks like telling your story, even when your voice shakes.
It looks like checking on your people.
It looks like checking on you.
To the ones holding it all together, please remember: you don’t have to.
To the strong ones, please remember: you are allowed to fall apart.
To the quiet ones, please remember: your voice is sacred.
Let’s make July not just a month of awareness, but a month of action.
Talk about mental health with your friends and family.
Seek support, even if it’s just one step.
Share a resource. Attend a healing circle.
Rest without apology.
Say “I love you” to yourself in the mirror. Mean it.
There is no revolution without healing.There is no justice without care.There is no liberation without love.
You are not too broken. You are not too late. You are not alone.
We’re in this with you. Let’s break the cycle, together.
We love you.
From,
PS: If you or someone you love is navigating a difficult season, here are some powerful resources created by and for BIPOC communities:
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