By Dominic Boston
. –to be continued 9/10/26
On top of that, many of us grow up having conversations with our parents about how to act if we are ever stopped by the police.
We aren’t taught those lessons because our parents don’t trust us. We are taught them because our parents are afraid of what could happen if someone else doesn’t see our humanity.
Living with that kind of pressure affects your mental health, whether people realize it or not.
Constantly feeling like you have to prove you are not a threat is exhausting. Always feeling like you have to be perfect just to be treated fairly takes a toll.
Those experiences create anxiety, fear, and stress that many young Black men carry every single day, even if they never talk about it.
I also think these experiences help explain why some young Black men feel disconnected from politics and voting.
If you have spent your whole life watching your community struggle no matter who is in office, it is easy to believe that your vote won’t change anything.
You see schools that need more resources, neighborhoods that deserve more investment, and communities asking for change year after year. After a while, some people stop believing anyone is listening.
But I also believe that is exactly why voting matters.
The people we elect make decisions about education, mental health funding, affordable housing, community programs, healthcare, and criminal justice. Those decisions directly affect neighborhoods like mine and families like mine.
If we want things to change, we can’t sit back and expect someone else to make those choices for us.
Our voices matter, and our votes do too.
One of the biggest changes that needs to happen is the way we talk about mental health.
We have to stop teaching young Black boys that crying makes them weak. We have to stop acting like asking for help is something to be embarrassed about.
Real strength isn’t pretending you’re okay when you’re not.
Real strength is being honest enough to say you’re struggling and courageous enough to ask for help.
As I continue growing into the man I want to become, I’m learning that strength and vulnerability can exist at the same time.
I can be determined, hardworking and resilient while still being honest about my emotions. I don’t have to carry everything by myself, and neither does the next generation of young Black men.
It’s time we change the conversation.
Instead of only telling young Black boys to be strong, we should also tell them it’s okay to cry.
It’s okay to talk.
It’s okay to heal.
Because when we create a generation of men who feel safe expressing themselves, we aren’t making them weaker. We are giving them a better chance to live healthier, happier lives.
And that is the kind of strength our communities have needed all along.
