To All Ardent Activists: Stop Sidelining Your Mental Health

Tara M. Rai

Activism, on an individual level, has multifarious effects on mental health. It fosters solidarity, empowerment, prosociality, and a sense of control. At the level of the collective, it is crucial beyond expression. But activism is also tiring. Whether or not one’s activism is directly relevant to oneself, one constantly advocates for and supports others. In the process, however, activists generally neglect their own struggles and mental strain. The psychological impact of all of this is further complicated for activists who inhabit one or more marginal identities, as a small, qualitative, 2011 study by Annemarie Vaccaro and Jasmine A. Mena at the University of Rhode Island emphasises, with respect to queer student activists of colour.

The paper, “It’s Not Burnout, It’s More: Queer College Activists of Color and Mental Health,” studies the lived experiences of six undergraduate queer activists of colour using a phenomenological method. Here, a student activist was defined as “an individual who worked for social change and equality for LGBTQ people on campus.” (Vaccaro & Mena, 2011, p.345). The participants were all part of the college’s Queer Student Group. Due to the tiny sample size, purposive sampling, and the method used, amongst other things, the findings cannot be generalised. However, some of them seem to be relevant to student activism in India, and even to activism by others juggling various occupational pressures, such as professors, workers, etc.

The procedure centred around two individual interviews separated by a ten-month gap, and the questions asked were direct and probing. This was the only method used, and so any potential deceit, holding back of information, and exaggeration was not cross-checked. Additionally, the researchers themselves interacted with the students, beyond the interview as well. The setup was therefore based on trust and openness, which seems to have brought out fuller responses.

The findings highlight an interesting mix of influences on the participants’ mental health: their stress-inducing position as college students played a major role in addition to their multiple minority identities, as did internal pressures related to their role as activists. As a small group organising three to four initiatives each month, the time commitment and work involved were themselves external pressures. To add to this, is the time spent on extra-curricular activities, and the considerable load of academics. For privileged students like myself, this is a relatable situation. For some participants, however, part-time jobs also took up a fair amount of time and energy.

Another trend is the need to always have the “right answer” to issues related to their identities and activism, and to be successful in bringing about change. The pressure to succeed already figures with regards to academics, therefore, it becomes an added pressure in something one does voluntarily and out of passion. The need to support and “help” other queer students, especially non-white ones, at all times, led to exhaustion. The participants didn’t seem to set personal boundaries, which in cases like this become crucial to maintaining stable mental health. Listening to others’ trauma can be triggering, apart from exhausting, and actively supporting others is also a time commitment on its own. This was evident, as the students faced crises and exhaustion as a result of their ceaseless efforts towards both academics and activism.

Therefore, the students were struggling with their own mental health and identities, while they were supporting and making others feel safe. Partly due to, perhaps, the proportion of time and energy invested in their fellow queer students as compared to the same for themselves, participants reported feelings of loneliness, isolation, and neglect. For three, the burnout took a more sinister turn. Two attempted suicide in the months between the first and second interview, of which one was being expelled for his poor academics at the time of the second interview (351). A third expressed suicidal ideation, but he seemed incapable of acting upon it precisely because of his supportive role in others’ lives. He explained, “People expect me to be around . . . For me, suicide is not an option, and it never would be—just because, I have too much to do and too little time . . . I have to reach out. I have to help others.” (Vaccaro & Mena, 2011, p. 352). In this way, a combination of obligation, empathy, and prosociality serves as a strong deterrent to suicidal behaviour.

The pressures due to their own identities were considerable, even while they supported others. Familial pressures that have only been touched upon. For example, a black student had to also deal with her lesbian and Jewish identities, while housed by Caucasian adoptive parents who did not acknowledge her race (351). Another explained her need to reassure her family that she would continue to support them even while coming out (350). Additionally, the pressure to prove oneself to be an “authentic” enough ambassador and activist for one’s identity was also a concern.

Since the entire study was based on students self-reporting to faculty members, social desirability could possibly come into play, although the trust-building period should counter this. Additionally, some of the findings, such as the point on academic pressure, seem fairly obvious. However, they aren’t commonly discussed, and complexities arise in the overlapping of identity-based stressors. While the paper could have done with better, large-scale sampling and less potential bias, it brings up the pressing concern of the mental health of grassroots activists and the importance of them getting help, support, and self-care.


Reference:
Vaccaro & Mena, 2011. It’s not burnout, it’s more: Queer college activists of color and mental health. Journal of Gay & Lesbian Mental Health, 15:339–367, DOI: 10.1080/19359705.2011.600656.