A few nights ago I was sitting in a debate between the College Democrats and College Republicans when I heard the following line in response to a question about gun control: “America has a mental health epidemic.” Iterations of this claim followed, and though I cannot recall them verbatim, I can remember the trembling that began in my knees and snuck through my body. They said that people with mental health disorders lack empathy and emotion, that it is the mentally ill alone who commit mass shootings, that they are responsible for our nation’s violent disease.
A few nights ago I got a text from a classmate who stated sarcastically that he wanted to kill himself because of his workload. When I asserted that he shouldn’t use the phrase as a joke, as it undermined and delegitimized the struggle of facing depression and suicidal thoughts, he got defensive, saying that I was taking it too seriously, that it wasn’t the big deal I was making it out to be, that I was trying to limit his freedom of expression.
These two events occurred within the same week, and it was then that I realized I had lost respect for my college community.
The disrespect expressed by my peers demonstrates that they, representing Gettysburg College students, are neither aware of nor concerned with mental illness in college students. When a representative of the College Republicans mentioned that the mentally ill who commit homicide do not feel sorrow or regret, I felt that a “psychopath” label had instantly appeared in neon above my head. I have depression and anxiety and have struggled for an eating disorder for many years, but in that moment those diagnoses had disappeared and were replaced with a single word: crazy.
The Active Minds website states that “Suicide is the 2nd leading cause of death among college students, claiming the lives of 1,100 students each year,” and yet some still find it appropriate to joke about. Its prevalence is undeniable. The desire to die is not a casual Snapchat or a simple exaggeration but a deep-rooted internal conflict, the result of a horrible, deadly illness.
It baffles me that my college community is so prone to stigma and misunderstanding when one in four of us is estimated to struggle with mental illness. It is unsettling that our aspiring public servants, our College Democrats and Republicans, blame gun violence on “America’s mental health epidemic” while less than four percent of violent crimes in the country are perpetrated by people with mental illnesses (Metzl & MacLeish). It is disconcerting that they associate every one of these issues with psychopathy, and that they can debate about gun laws for hours yet they cannot present any solutions on how to improve mental health.
If America had a swine flu epidemic, we would be treating it immediately, but no one wants to touch on mental illness. This explains why we still joke about it, why we don’t understand it, why we fail to recognize that the mentally ill are far more likely to be the victims of violent crime than the perpetrators. This explains why our counseling center is more concerned with our school’s reputation that our students’ well-being, why they are severely understaffed and underfunded. This is explains why my depression, anxiety, and anorexia are being mistaken for psychopathy, because we are painfully unaware of the nature of mental illness.
This explains why the second leading cause of death in college students is being used to wrongly justify gun violence.
Herein lies my disappointment with my college community; we have become so entwined in political discourse that we have forgotten basic humanity. The fact of the matter is that someone on this campus, someone with whom you may have shared a pen in class last week or sat beside in Servo, is depressed. Someone you know has thoughts of suicide while you throw the term around like it’s no big deal. People are complaining about schools being too careful with their trigger warnings, yet they want nothing to do with the mental health discussion. Between sixth grade and senior year I lost six classmates to suicide, yet “free speech” advocates insist that this is irrelevant in toughening up America’s youth.
Is life then less important than that joke you made last Tuesday?
During the college debate, my peers blatantly admitted that they did not care about my well-being. With each suicide joke I overhear, I am reminded that my classmates do not understand or care about what it is like to live with depression and suicidal tendencies. The six souls I lost in grade school are pushed aside and stepped on, and every single person who suffers any variety of mental illness is suddenly viewed as a psychopath.
I say this to my peers:
Understand that gun violence is not a result of mental illness, but everyday suffering is; understand that human life is more gossamer and valuable than some sick humor; understand that your choice of words is spreading the idea that people burdened with illnesses outside their control are at fault for societal issues. Understand that mental health is a topic that needs to be addressed and studied before one quarter of your classmates disappear before your eyes.
To my friends struggling with mental illness: you are brave and resilient.
Join the discussion. Visit activeminds.org or our weekly meetings on Mondays at 6 in Glatfelter 203.