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At 26, Gillian Corsiatto of Red Deer, Alta., is a published author – her debut novel, Duck Light, asks the serious question: “How can one break free of societal expectations?” More books and plays are underway. She’s also been a keen improv performer with Bullskit Comedy.
Gillian Corsiatto
She has three part-time jobs: She is a community educator and youth group leader for the Red Deer branch of the Schizophrenia Society of Alberta and has been a guest speaker for The Mental Health Commission of Canada’s Headstrong youth program; she manages social media and recruitment for the Red Deer Royals marching band (in which she used to play the tuba); and most recently, she has taken a job wrapping and packaging caramels for a small, home-based business.
It sounds like a busy life, but Corsiatto understands the importance of managing stress. “It’s not like 9 to 5. I make sure I have enough time to rest and enough time for myself at home,” she says.
If you have never met a person who lives with schizophrenia – you just did.
Corsiatto is among more than 147,500 Canadians who deal with schizophrenia, a severe mental illness.
New standards
To ensure those living with the condition experience better outcomes and have the kind of hope for the future that Corsiatto does, The Mental Health Commission of Canada, in partnership with Ontario Shores Centre for Health Sciences, has released the Schizophrenia Quality Standards National Demonstration Project, a synthesis of the best medical evidence, with four demonstration health sites across Canada: Adult Forensic Mental Health Services, Manitoba; Hotel-Dieu Grace Health Care and Canadian Mental Health Association, Windsor, Ont.; Newfoundland and Labrador Health Services; and, Seven Oaks Tertiary, B.C. Health practitioners will receive education and training on best practices in therapy and medication treatments and helping patients and their families cope with the illness over the long term.
This will come as a welcome relief to many. The symptoms of schizophrenia tend to arise in adolescence or young adulthood, as they did for Corsiatto, who says she was about 13 when she first experienced delusions.
Early symptoms
“I thought I saw dead people,” she says. “I found it very hard to pay attention in school, and socially I was not really fitting in with the other kids because of my odd behaviour and the things I would talk about. That’s when I started hallucinating. I was very much in my own world at that point.” Corsiatto says she also engaged in self-harm to relieve her psychological turmoil.
Overcoming her psychosis and other symptoms wasn’t easy. At 14, she spent time in a psychiatric ward, where she received medication and was monitored for improvement in her symptoms. This helped eventually, she says, but the medication had side effects. “I was so tired all the time. And there was hunger. I ended up gaining a lot of weight.” She also remembers that some caregivers had the attitude that their patients needed to be disciplined and corrected.
“We were treated as though we were bad kids, not sick kids. Like it was all behaviour problems, causing trouble. I’m an adult now and can stand up for myself, but I wish I would have said something or stood up because I really felt like I wasn’t being treated very well.”
Corsiatto’s symptoms did improve significantly though, with therapy and medication. Throughout most of high school, she did not have hallucinations and was able to manage her studies and extra-curricular activities. She even went off her medication for a time, but that did not last. After graduating high school, she went to Red Deer College (now Polytechnic), majoring in music. “School was stressful. I didn’t complete the program,” she says. Along with medication she had previously been given for anxiety, she resumed taking medication for psychosis. This was a hard period, says Corsiatto. “I just coped with it.”
The next chapter
Gradually, though, the medication and therapy again helped and for the past four years, Corsiatto has been able to build a life she enjoys, with a desire to help other young people with severe mental illness and a lot of hope for the future. “I really want to make writing a career,” she says, as she works on the sequel to Duck Light.
“I know that there’s hope for the future, and I know that I will always deal with this illness and this schizophrenia, but I also know that I can manage it, and I am more than my schizophrenia, and if things do get bad, I know what to do about it.”
For example, she says hallucinations and delusions are still something she experiences, “but to a much lesser extent than I used to,” Corsiatto says. “Several factors impact whether or not I recognize them as such. Medication is definitely a big part, but I also credit life experience. I have learned to gauge the reactions of others or, if I’m with someone I trust, asking them what they are experiencing in that moment. If I am out in public and experiencing a hallucination and no one else around me seems to notice or react to it, that’s a good indicator to me that it’s a hallucination. Things that will make it harder to decipher whether real or not are stress, lack of sleep, or if I am alone.”
She sees ways the mental health system can improve its treatment of young people with schizophrenia, and notes that a significant number of people with mental illness also struggle with substance use issues, finding suitable housing, and waiting lists for treatment. “It’s case by case. I’m on a waiting list for an autism assessment, but I feel that if I go to the hospital, I can get help pretty fast. If I need an emergency appointment with my psychiatrist, I can do that.”
Individual experiences
Corsiatto wants people to know that no two people with schizophrenia experience it the same way. If you want to know what someone is going through, “talk to the individual, don’t generalize,” she says.
For young people going through treatment for schizophrenia, she says, “It’s not all about the medications and the illness. It’s really important to focus on what makes you happy. What do you like to do? What are you proud of? What would you like to achieve?”
Answering these questions for herself has made Corsiatto feel like she’s “living the dream.”
Each time she speaks publicly, she feels she’s dispelling misconceptions. “I love changing people’s mindsets about what they think schizophrenia is. ‘This is how someone with schizophrenia is going to act.’ And then I show up. And they think this person is pretty normal. So, I love that. And changing the way people think about interacting with schizophrenia and people with schizophrenia. They can just talk to me like I’m a normal person – because I am.”
Resource: Where to Get Care – A Guide to Navigating Public and Private Mental Health Services in Canada.
Resource: Addressing stigma in health care.
Moira Farr
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What happens when someone you love cliff-dives off the edge of mental illness?
This question appears on the cover of Stephanie Kain’s novel-memoir Lifeline: An Elegy (ECW Press, October 2023). Kain answers that and other questions over 210 pages of prose, text exchanges, short stories, and essays.
The book is stunning in its fragmented format, befitting the author’s experience of grappling with a frayed healthcare system, one’s own perspectives and biases, the mental illness of a loved one, and daily life challenges during the emergency phase of the pandemic.
Complicated romantic, platonic, and familial relationship dynamics are named and noted with dry wit and underscored with pop culture references and lyrics (Shawn Mendes, Sara Bareilles, and Mumford & Sons, among them).
In Lifeline, advocating for one’s care is “Shirley MacLaine-ing” in a reference to Terms of Endearment. In a notable scene from that film, you hear a frustrated bellowing of, “It’s after 10!” as MacLaine’s character nearly has a breakdown at the triage desk trying to get her daughter a pain shot. Her pleading eventually works, and the volume and tone suddenly change. “Thank you,” she tells the nurse just above a whisper.
Kain has similar moments of raw reality. The story centres around the author’s complicated relationship with a woman diagnosed with suicidal depression. Kain writes about the indignities of a locked ward, having to administer heavy medications, supporting someone through the after-effects of electro-convulsive therapy, and her own well-being. The author – a creative writing professor at the University of Ottawa – spends time in PEI, and the island figures prominently as she looks to find a way forward.
The book’s format is jaunty and compelling, and its portrayal of the frustrations and realities of helping a loved one through mental illness is done with intensity and honesty – yet free of judgement and stigma, the things that can hold people back from seeking care.
The insomnia is camped out permanently like an adult child moving home for quarantine, knowing you can’t kick it out, even if it’s on its worst behaviour.
A chapter called Eight Things I’m Putting in Your Care Package offers insight as the author rationalizes each choice.
Multicoloured Pens: Blue and black are depressing as f–k, and since you hate any pencil crayons that aren’t your top-of-the-line artist brand, I’m not even going to try sending you any. Instead, you can draw with multicoloured pens and stop judging yourself and your work because nobody expects drawings made with multicoloured pens to be good. They’re just supposed to pass the time.
You might not recall because #Depression, but the last time you were in there, you made something in art class and spent half an hour criticizing it before I finally screamed at you that you were in a psychiatric hospital and the art wasn’t supposed to be good for the love of f–k and maybe this was the problem!
In this way, the book made me think about portrayals of mental illness in contemporary fiction. The Mental Health Commission of Canada’s magazine, The Catalyst: Conversations on Mental Health, has a section dedicated to this topic called Representations. It takes on popular narratives of mental well-being to mark their shifts. If you’ve watched One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest or Thirteen Reasons Why, you can see there is room for improvement with regard to nuance, honest portrayals, and false notions.
I was inspired to start this feature after reading a series in The Walrus reflecting on problematic classic works. This re-examination brings to light the ways in which society and literature have changed. Author Myra Bloom looks at the darker side of Leonard Cohen through a re-examination of Beautiful Losers’ stereotypes with discussions on the genius myth and what historian Martin Jay calls the “aesthetic alibi” used to justify bad behaviour. Writing about The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Amanda Perry says, “At seventeen, I could still assume beautiful phrases were true ones and take characters as guides for living.” Perry reflects on “the male writers whose words have shaped my psyche and whether it’s time to shake them off.”
Stephanie Kain
Reading that sentence, I think of depictions of mental health that live in my psyche. I grew up listening to The Ramones, whose many titles send up mental wellness (“I Wanna Be Sedated,” “Go Mental,” “Mental Hell,” “I Wanna Be Well” – I made an entire playlist), as well as their live-in-your-head video for “Psycho Therapy.” I think about how Sylvia Plath, who, like all of us, was a product of her time. Re-reading The Bell Jar now makes me think about how it’s a case study in self-stigma and structural stigma. Terms we didn’t use then. We know more now.
Problematic depictions in the mass media won’t end – sensationalism and romanticization frequently propel narrative arcs – but the huge role that popular culture can play in the understanding and representation of mental health makes a book like Lifeline such a notable work in illustrating the story of living with and supporting someone with mental illness through ups and downs, contradictions, contours, and textures.
“Healing is not linear, darling,” the author writes—and the book’s format artfully follows that statement by jumping around in time as the author reflects and looks forward, trying to imagine a time when the person she cares for so deeply might be better.
Further reading: Breaking Stigmas, Saving Lives.
Fateema Sayani
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When you think of mental health, do you want to have a good laugh?
Humour is one of the most effective ways brands have to capture attention and be memorable. It’s not always easy, but if you can strike the right balance between tone and your target market’s funny bone, it’s gold.
Unfortunately, for most health brands, humour represents pitfalls. Fears of poor taste or making people feel minimized are real. This fear of funny means, for the most part, we are left tugging on heartstrings or seeking inspiration from the patient as brave soldier.
In fact, a few years ago, SickKids launched a brilliant campaign where they combined the two with children as gritty-eyed warriors fighting illness and injury. While there were critics of the VS Limits campaign, it did its job, surpassing the $1.5-billion goal.
When you are a mental health advocate, there is a lot on the line. With so much stigma associated with mental health, anything that might further confuse issues makes the use of humour thorny. Yet, if you are struggling with mental illness, you don’t always want to be immersed in the dark imagery that often accompanies stories of mental distress. Unfortunately, for a long time, mental health meant a series of images of people with their heads in their hands.
We contain multitudes
The reality is much more dynamic. Mental health discussions, even the toughest of them, can be about optimism, change, and recovery. We don’t have to go the warrior route. It is possible to go for and succeed with the holy grail of healthcare promotion: humour.
Ottawa Public Health has been a champion of that approach. When speaking to Kevin Parent, the social media lead, he noted that while the public health unit is often funny, they can get away with it because, first and foremost, they are always authentic. That means they express a variety of voices on their feed. Some are full of comedic relief; others are serious, sad, educational, and informative – essentially, the range of human emotions.
For example, during the pandemic, mask discussions lost all humour for me, and yet my inner sci-fi geek was tickled when they featured The Maskalorian with the quote, “This is the way.” It made a tiresome topic fresh and funny.
“We do everything we can to stay authentic,” Parent says. “If you understand your audience, if you take the time to know them, then you’ll know what they think is funny. You’ll also know when they need a laugh. It isn’t that a particular thing is right, and another is wrong; it’s more a case of what’s right – for right now.”
So, during the emergency phase of the pandemic, maybe mask-breath jokes were too soon – though, these days, most people would have experienced this and get the reference.
In recent years, constraints that have kept humour at bay in the health sector have fallen due to the popularity of social media influencers and the acknowledgement by health professionals that the voices of those with lived experiences are not only relevant but important in everything from research to recovery.
The shift in perspective was aptly demonstrated when that bastion of academic rigour, Harvard University, conducted best practice educational sessions with TikTok mental health influencers Rachel Havekost and Trey Tucker. The engagement brought better health information to the public through those popular feeds. However, it’s not always a successful partnership if the fit between knowledge and theatre isn’t right. No matter how well-intentioned or researched, if the content isn’t entertaining, it does not get viewed.
Some experts advise healthcare marketers entering the humour arena to be gentle. That’s not bad advice, but it does leave the content somewhat bland. When the Mental Health Commission of Canada decided to refresh a few years ago, it wanted to bring the brand into the light and occasionally tickle the funny bone. This meant banishing images that conjured deep unhappiness. You know them: a dark day and a sad person sitting alone on a bed, facing a corner. It’s usually in black and white to reinforce the glumness of the subject matter. If that wasn’t enough, there are also lots of clouds.
Silver linings
The change to optimistic imagery wasn’t simple. As many experts insisted, mental health isn’t always sunshine and daisies. The challenge is understanding what viewers are looking for so that good information can be digested.
I am not alone in saying nothing about dreary imagery draws me in and makes me want to learn, see, or hear more. If I also get served a lecture using technical language, I’m out. It’s not that dark and difficult times are never part of the mental health journey, but contributing to doom scrolling hardly seems progressive. Nor is it that viewers don’t want well-researched information, but anyone who has ever had a loss of mental health knows the process is not simple. There are good and bad times, sometimes in the same 24 hours. Regardless of where you are on the continuum, a little humour can go a long way. A good laugh can reduce stress and tension, provide relief from pain, improve your mood, and has a host of other well-documented impacts.
The issue is finding the right balance of information and entertainment. Infotainment is easy to say and hard to achieve. It’s fine to explain that laughter is the best medicine and cite a series of research studies, but putting humour into play while delivering information responsibly to an audience that often includes people at risk is difficult.
Mental health can be funny, but it can also be sad, scary, and complicated. For advocates, advertisers, and audiences, getting the balance right is not only essential, but it can also be life-altering.
Further reading: No more doom and gloom: How we’re using photography to inspire hope.
Resource: Fact Sheet: Common Mental Health Myths and Misconceptions.
Debra Yearwood
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The sounds of sorrow and hope amid a tangle of words on injustice, racism, and brutality often define conscious rap music. Their presence is an acknowledgement of the challenges faced and a call to Black communities to stay strong despite the pressures of prejudice. Music’s role in expressing the internal, external, and seemingly eternal conflicts arising from oppression makes it an important player in the survival of Black culture, identity, and mental health.
Everyday racism activities that permeate daily life become ‘normalized’ in the mainstream despite stated commitments to equity. These transgressions often appear mindless or habitual and while they hurt, it’s sometimes easier to ignore than battle every incident. When I was a political assistant on Parliament Hill many years ago, small green buses would wind their way around the precinct, bringing staff and members to different buildings. Regularly, the buses would drive past me. The drivers would see me flagging them but never considered that a Black woman could be a Hill staffer, so they drove by. They passed by me so often that when they did stop, I was startled.
The loop
Freda Bizimana
Given their frequency, these racist moments are regularly treated as too minor to address. However, their cumulative impact reproduces social relations of power and oppression and, over time, damages the health and well-being of Black people and other people of colour. In effect, everyday racism creates systemic racism, and systemic racism creates the environments that allow everyday racism to thrive. They both produce challenges to mental health.
When violence against Black citizens is normalized or overlooked with little to no reaction from agencies such as the media or government, then it would be easy to allow despair or cynicism to take over. According to a 2018 study published in The Lancet, Black Americans report upwards of 14 poor mental health days for every reported police killing of an unarmed Black American in their state of residence.
There’s all sorts of trauma from drama that children see
Type of s–t that normally would call for therapy
But you know just how it go in our community
Keep that s–t inside it don’t matter how hard it be
– Lyrics, J. Cole, “Friends” 2018.
The impacts are multi-generational. Discrimination experienced by a parent may also negatively impact their child’s mental health, even if that child did not experience the discriminatory treatment firsthand. In the same Lancet study referenced above, the impacts of “indirect” or “vicarious” racism were found to worsen the progression of inflammatory disease, sleep disturbances, chronic health conditions, and cognitive function – all of which decay mental health.
Music has been and remains an important part of Black cultural expression. Its ability to communicate complex messages and emotions is integral to its construction. It was fear of the effectiveness that led U.S. legislators to ban slaves from using drums in 1739. Almost 150 years later, in 1988, NWA’s single, “F–k tha Police,” drew similar concerns from authorities when it was released.
It’s not surprising then that rap music and hip-hop culture play an important role in not just expressing the concerns, fears, opportunities, and hopes of contemporary Black people but also providing an outlet to improve mental health in those same communities. In 1998, researcher and clinician Dr. Edgar Tyson introduced hip-hop therapy at the 20th Annual Symposium of the Association for the Advancement of Social Work.
Mama had four kids, but she’s a lesbian
Had to pretend so long that she’s a thespian
Had to hide in the closet, so she medicate
Society shame and the pain was too much to take
– Lyrics, Jay-Z, “Smile,” 2017.
Hip-hop therapy is a fusion of hip-hop, bibliotherapy, and music therapy. Music therapy has established credentials that stretch back to research done by Zane Ragland and Maurice Apprey as early as 1974. Similarly, bibliotherapy, which focuses on the use of literature, such as stories and poetry, to facilitate treatment, is also well established and has been proven to be effective by several systematic reviews in the treatment of emotional, physical, and mental health problems among adults.
Tyson’s groundbreaking research is the cornerstone of contemporary hip-hop therapy and lends itself well to culturally appropriate care, particularly among young people.
Toronto therapist Freda Bizimana, MSW, RSW, works with Black and racialized youth in conflict with the law at The Growth & Wellness Therapy Centre. She shared how challenging it is to reach Black youth, particularly those who have come to therapy because of their interaction with the justice system. “They don’t want to be there talking to a stranger,” she says. “Hip-hop gives us a bridge, a way to connect through something they love. It’s a modality that is not rooted in European experience. It brings back the drums common to the African Black diaspora.”
New release
In her practice, Bizimana notes that clients are not often engaged and start with one-word answers. She’ll look at their headphones and ask them what they are listening to. They’ll share their favourite songs, then delve into lyrics. At some point, Bizimana will ask them, ‘Do you ever feel that way?’ Suddenly, they are having a conversation. “This modality eases them into the process,” she says.
How does Bizimana respond to critics who question the efficacy or appropriateness of this therapeutic approach? “Hip hop is a mirror of society. If you have a problem with it, you need to look at what’s happening in society,” she says. “How are we addressing anti-Black racism? What is happening within our school systems with Black youth? What are we doing to deal with police brutality? Why are young people numbing themselves?”
No need to lie into your emerald soul
You surely know gold is always in your throat
Why not let it shine?
You’re in control of the dream
– Lyrics, Kid Cudi, “The Commander,” 2016.
Rap can surf off strife and act as a vehicle of escape. Political commentary set to a 4/4 beat transforms frustration with structural racism into an accessible anthem of collective experience. Kendrick Lemar’s album, To Pimp a Butterfly, provides political commentary on faith, culture, and race. The song “Alright” pulled those insights together and made its way onto Pitchfork and Billboard best-of lists for 2015. Lamar notes in the poem that runs before and after the song that the conflict is based on discrimination and apartheid. Like the songs of slaves, he sings that with God, things will be alright. The widescale popularity and uplifting beat eventually led to its adoption by the Black Lives Matter movement, reinforcing the relationship between conscious rap and activism.
Collective efforts
Rap’s themes of overcoming obstacles and surviving life’s challenges are specific as well as inspirational. They reflect the realities of daily life for many in Black communities. Hip-hop therapy takes rap music and other elements of hip-hop culture and blends them to create a culturally relevant therapeutic offering. Unlike regular music therapy, it also embraces group therapy. This allows for shared experiences and reduces the feelings of isolation that are often the consequence of racism. The evidence shows that it can reduce depression and anxiety while also improving communication and emotional expression.
Hip-hop therapy also does something else; it empowers. Rap music varies widely and can reinforce doctrines of sexism, commercialism, and drug culture. For Black women, it can be another source of disrespect and denial. Through hip-hop therapy, women can counteract those influences through the creation of lyrics and discussions that tell their stories in their voices.
“Hip hop gives a voice to Black youth,” Bizimana says. “It allows them to have a space to express, heal, and grow with a medium that is familiar. I’d like to see it used more frequently in Canada,” she says, noting that more therapists are adopting this approach through individual and group sessions. She is seeing schools incorporating it into curricula. “Sometimes help can come in the form of a coping playlist,” she says, “like a playlist for when you are sad and another for when you need motivation.”
Years ago, if asked, I would have expressed my disdain for hip-hop culture. It often struck me as self-flagellation, and I could not see why so many young Black people, particularly women, were enamoured with it. However, when my son began to play conscious rap for me, and I listened to lyrics that reflected my own truths, I could not help but rethink my opinions. Now, in moments of doubt and struggle, when cultural norms have stifled my options or limited my view, I find the music uplifting. No small wonder I would be caught by the appeal of hip-hop therapy. It captures and formalizes what many of us in the Black community already know: music heals, and no music heals as well as our own.
Further Reading: Weaving Through the Challenges
Resource: Experiences with Suicide: African, Caribbean, and Black Communities in Canada
Debra Yearwood
Illustrator: Holly Craib
Holly Craib explores the relationships between colour and light in her artwork. She won a 2023 Applied Arts award for a conceptual illustration series.
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Ahead of the International Trans Day of Visibility – an annual event dedicated to supporting trans people and raising awareness of discrimination — the Stigma Crusher reflects on ways of showing up and showing support.
It’s easy to be a friend, a comforter, a confidant, a ramen pal, or a late-night horror flick ride-or-die – but that is not what it means to be an ally. So, how does one be an ally? And more to the point, how does one be a good ally to transgender and nonbinary communities in a political and social climate that can be downright hostile and dangerous?
An ally is a person, often cisgender (a person whose gender corresponds to the sex assigned at birth), who supports and/or advocates for transgender and non-binary people. It can seem daunting to be an ally with all the hate in the world – sometimes, I think I would rather hide until everything feels just a little safer – but for those I love, I can’t. Besides, there are simple actions we can take to be a better ally, right now.
It starts with education
There are 100,815 transgender and non-binary persons in Canada, according to Statistics Canada. That’s 1 in 300 Canadians. Gender refers to an individual’s personal and social identity. Transgender refers to people whose gender does not correspond to their sex assigned at birth (based on a person’s reproductive system and other physical characteristics). Non-binary refers to people who are not exclusively a man or a woman. In both cases, the gender identity, which is the experience of gender internally, does not match what society expects.
Maybe, as an ally, you are familiar with these terms, but do you know about the history of trans and non-binary rights in this country? Have you read any trans or non-binary-authored resources lately? Being a good ally is more than being a friend; it is important for us to educate ourselves about the lived experiences of trans and non-binary people to better understand what they encounter daily. And we have to educate ourselves. It is critical to consider where we put the burden of this work.
Names and pronouns
For many transgender and non-binary people, names and pronouns are an important issue. They may find themselves constantly on the receiving end of being called by their old (“dead”) name or the wrong gender or pronoun (“misgendered”), which can be incredibly hurtful. The most respectful approach is to introduce oneself using one’s preferred name and pronouns and ask if you’re not sure. Mess up? Respectfully apologize, then concentrate on correcting yourself moving forward.
Safety
Allyship is incredibly important in keeping transgender and non-binary people safe – especially in today’s politically charged climate. And it can start young. Mae Ajayi, who is non-binary and a parent, says making allies of our kids is one of the best ways to keep trans and non-binary kids safe.
“It’s about having conversations with kids that are really explicit about transphobia,” Ajayi says. Explaining what it is and how to be an ally is a helpful start, says Rachel Malone, parent of bigender Sacha, and cisgender Peter. “We can’t wrap our kids up in bubble wrap, right? And we can’t be there 100 percent of the time, so we can’t be their only protectors.” Malone knows there is a lot to do to improve safety for transgender and nonbinary people. She told me how Sacha’s brutal bullying over her gender identity in kindergarten resulted in serious mental health concerns and asked me not to use her or her children’s real names because of reports of families of transgender kids being targeted with violence.
Safety is a theme not only for children but also for transgender and non-binary adults, who are more likely than cisgender adults to experience violence. Allies who stand up for their transgender and non-binary friends, colleagues and neighbours are crucial to improving safety for these adults.
Mental health
Robyn Letson, MSW, RSW, is a trans social worker and psychotherapist who works with transgender and non-binary clients. According to them, “There is huge potential for allyship in providing affirming mental health care to trans and non-binary people.”
Transgender and non-binary individuals are more likely than cis-gender individuals to live with poor mental health. This could be due to a variety of reasons, but the transphobia, prejudice, and discrimination that they experience just for existing certainly does not help.
An ally can help support the mental of transgender and non-binary people by being supportive, respecting their privacy by not asking invasive medical questions about transition or hormones, and seeking their feedback on how you can adjust your care approach (you may not know that your approach isn’t working unless you ask). You can signal with signage that workplaces, schools, and clinics are safe and affirming spaces for transgender and nonbinary people.
It also takes work to really help support the transgender and non-binary folks in your life. “I would suggest starting with critical self-reflection,” says Letson. “For cis people who want to begin or deepen a journey of practicing better allyship and solidarity with trans people, I always suggest beginning with one’s own relationship to gender.”
Ongoing commitment
There is no “completed” badge for being an ally – it is all about continuous education, working against discrimination and transphobia, and challenging one’s own biases.
“Make space for fewer assumptions and just allow yourself to feel like you don’t know,” suggests Mae Ajayi. “Cis(gendered) folks should understand how sad and scared people are right now and that it feels very frightening as a trans person and also as a parent – it’s a very real danger,” they say.
I can only imagine how frightening it is to be a transgendered or non-binary person in Canada right now, and as an ally, that makes my blood boil. However, being angry isn’t enough – being cisgender is currently a privilege in our society, and it is an ally’s responsibility to use that privilege to act.
It sounds like a big job, but if you start with supporting transgender and non-binary people, work on educating yourself, commit to learning and using the correct names and pronouns, think about protecting their safety, support their mental health, and then make an ongoing commitment to act against transphobia and discrimination, you will be well on your way to being a better ally.
Jessica Ward-King
Estimated reading time: 5 minutes
It’s been a while since I’ve dated (my wife and I celebrated 16 years of marriage in August), but I still remember the horrors – and yes, it was online even back then. Search through dozens upon dozens (hundreds?) of profiles to try to find one that looks like it might match what you want, then message to see if they match you too…then the actual date to see if you ACTUALLY match each other – it was exhausting. And you have to be picky – this is a life partner we are talking about here, not just a date for a party. I was super lucky to find my princess after kissing a lot of frogs.
Trying to find a therapist is a lot like dating but let me introduce a new variable – trying to find a therapist – or mental health services at all – as a 2SLGBTQIA+ person. It thins out the dating pool a little bit. But unlike online dating, where there are specialty apps for that, it is a bit more of an odyssey finding mental health services specifically catering to the 2SLGBTQIA+ population.
If I want to talk about my lived experience as a queer person, and I want a therapist or service provider who inherently understands that lived experience without me having to educate them, I am going to need to find a service provider who is a member of the queer community. That means I am going to have to do some leg work. It is hard enough finding a therapist who is taking clients and whose therapeutic style you vibe with without also having to find one who is a member of the queer community, especially when you can’t exactly swipe left on therapists in a queer-only app these days.
I was lucky that when I was coming out, I was living in a huge metropolitan city with some mental health services specifically for young 2SLGBTQIA+ people. I was able to work through the trauma associated with my coming out with a therapist who understood what it was to be queer and had themselves come out. I didn’t have to explain the nuances of my experience or stop to explain the history of my community’s struggles, the historical significance of Pride, or the reasons that I would or would not want to disclose my sexuality to family or friends; these things were known and understood. I felt seen and heard in those sessions in a way that I do not think I would have been seen and heard by a therapist who was not part of the community.
We need more services that are made for and by the 2SLGBTQIA+ community that are safe spaces for not only 2SLGBTQIA+ youth but all members of the queer community to obtain mental health services that are specific to our needs as a marginalized community.
I do not always have therapeutic needs that require a 2SLGBTQIA+ therapist – I am currently working through stressors related to work and coping style and things that do not require my therapist to have a deep understanding of my 2SLGBTQIA+ culture. He is not a member of that community – and it was easier to find him because of that – but it does not hinder my current therapeutic goals. That’s the thing – a therapist isn’t a life partner but a service provider, and so it depends on the service a person needs and whether they need care that is culturally competent based on their intersectional identities. Sometimes you do if the issues that need to be addressed are related to those identities, and sometimes, you don’t.
It is not easy for a 2SLGBTQIA+ person to find a queer-identifying mental health service provider that ticks all of their boxes, and often, we have to settle for what we can find. Resources exist to help (www.psychologytoday.com is a popular one with a 2SLGBTQIA+ filter), but like the dating scene, it can be a jungle out there to find someone with everything you want and need. A lot like the dating scene, if you are trying to find a new service provider, do try to “play the field” a little bit and set up consultations with a few promising candidates to see if you like their style and, as I say, “vibe” with them – because it’s one thing if they understand where you’re coming from as a 2SLGBTQIA+ person, but if they don’t get you as you then the therapeutic relationship isn’t going to work.
Once you have identified your best fit, give them a bit of a chance and let the relationship flourish – but don’t be afraid to ask for a referral to a colleague if it’s not working out after a number of sessions. Your new service provider should be able to refer you to another queer colleague who might be a better fit in terms of the areas you have identified with your therapist so that you won’t be back to square one – and no good therapist will be offended if the relationship isn’t working out. It happens all the time (and they feel it too). And if you have a therapist or service provider (doctor, nurse practitioner, social worker etc.) who is currently not meeting your needs for cultural competency (i.e., they are not part of the 2SLGBTQIA+ community) don’t be shy to ask them for a referral to a queer colleague – you might be surprised to find that they have someone in mind or can help you find someone through their networks.
Bottom line – trying to find a culturally competent 2SLGBTQIA+ mental health service provider is not an easy task, but it is one that is often necessary for members of the queer community seeking services. If that is you, don’t despair. There are resources that can help you find a therapist or service provider who will understand where you are coming from. It may be difficult to find a perfect match, but unlike the dating scene, this isn’t a life partner we are talking about here – you don’t have to marry them!
Author: Jessica Ward-King
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Top reads worth revisiting from the Mental Health Commission of Canada’s magazine
With the tagline “Conversations on Mental Health,” we have a wide berth when considering story ideas for The Catalyst. This is by design. Part of the Mental Health Commission of Canada’s work is to reduce stigma, and that starts by making space for discussions about lived realities, challenges, news, and ideas. We compiled a summary of stories published in 2023 that reflect that ethos to start off your New Year. Happy reading.
Is there an elephant in the room?
Stories develop in myriad ways. The piece “How to Break Up With Your Therapist” emerged from side conversations with friends and colleagues, seemingly unable to speak above a whisper about how it wasn’t working out. When I responded by proposing a piece on the delicate art of saying, “It’s not you, it’s me (or vice-versa),” I kept hearing how useful this would be. We commissioned author Moira Farr to tackle the issue in July 2023. Later that year, in October 2023, The New York Times published a piece on the same topic with a similar headline and sub-headline. We were flattered.
On the subject of things we don’t talk about enough, in March, writer Debra Yearwood wrote about the cringier aspects of a bad funeral (mispronouncing the name of the deceased – egad!) and how different aspects of saying goodbye can support bereavement processes. The delightfully cheeky illustration nails the premise of the article and invites readers into the story.
Serious about series
A collection of linked stories allows us to explore an issue in depth across multiple weeks. We plan these out in advance to permit research, reflection, and writing and to assure stories are up to date with current and emerging information. In November, we published four stories within the theme of Money & Mental Health for Financial Literacy Month. It covers mindsets, housing, economic literacy and empowerment, and the cost of therapy.
Meanwhile, our annual literary series Mental Health for the Holidays embraces some of the tarnish on all the sparkle of the season. We dive into complicated family dynamics with stories of overcoming the more trying aspects of the holidays not always seen in those commercial depictions. The pieces are true tales told with hope and humour.
Lived experiences
The level of detail and nuance that emerges from a personal tale can shed light on a topic profoundly. That was the case with Jessica Ruano’s story about her partner’s suicide. Meanwhile, Florence K – musician, mother, CBC host, and doctoral candidate – took the theme of this year’s Mental Health Week – #MyStory – and shared her personal story of mental health challenges, wellness, and discovery.
On language
When working to reduce stigma, it’s about the stories we tell – and how we tell them. Part of our internal annual review of our style guide looks at language choices. We decided to provide context around these choices in a series called Language Matters. In this way, we can share our rationale outside the organization with the hopes that word will spread. For example, how to phrase language around suicide or the use of drugs, alcohol, or other substances.
Worth revisiting
The following stories – two from our annual literary series Mental Health for the Holidays – all received nominations for the Canadian Online Publishing Awards. Winners are announced in February. In the best column category are Dave Bidini’s piece, Getting Outside to Get Into Your Head and Moira Farr’s essay May Your Days Be Merry and Bright – As Possible, both from 2022. Debra Yearwood’s piece, Putting the Men in Mental Health, received a nod in the Best Service Article category, while The Dread in Your Head – about eco-anxiety – received a nomination for Best Lifestyle Article.
Fateema Sayani
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Our annual literary series touches on the complexities of the season.
Our tagline for The Catalyst is “Conversations on mental health.” This idea is meant as shorthand for our magazine’s purpose and a signal to our readers that the door is open to discuss mental health.
This welcome mat also speaks to the larger mission at the Mental Health Commission of Canada (MHCC) to reduce stigma. When we speak openly about challenges, illnesses, problems, and wellness, we recognize that mental health is part of our overall health. Such conversations can be a gateway to meaningful change, and the holiday season feels like an especially good time to tackle the complexities and multitudes of our mental health.
So every December, we run our Mental Health for the Holidays series to touch on the things not seen in those sparkly commercials. The goal is to normalize some of the challenges the holidays can bring and give readers a sense of hope with a touch of humour.
Each year has a subtheme. In 2023, it was Moping, Hoping, and Coping. For 2024, we’re going with Good Tidings, Bad Partings, and New Traditions. While pithy and catchy, our hope is that they also speak to a trajectory of hope and promise through real voices and real stories.
I launched the series in 2022, some months after joining the MHCC as the manager of content and strategic communications. The Catalyst is one part of my portfolio and among the most visible parts of our work at the commission, whose other initiatives include research reports, public engagement, and knowledge translation projects such as guides, tools, courses, and webinars. The Catalyst is designed to be conversational, accessible, and even chatty while covering a gamut of issues, ideas, and research within mental health. It’s a little bit of Psychology Today with a dash of the New Yorker and a good dose of neighbourly advice.
The “recipe” for this annual series is to find stories that bridge the gaps between expectations and realities. It’s people taking their lumps and making honey lemon tea out of lemons, with a side of tin box cookies. They’re narratives about people facing challenges, told without tropes or platitudes.
Finding your way
Authors usually share a personal tale tied to a theme. For example, in 2022, Rheostatics rock band member and West End Phoenix newspaper publisher Dave Bidini wrote about skating, the germination of his memoirs, nostalgia, rinks, and rituals with richly beautiful detail and a certain musicality.
I was grateful that skating had delivered this creative idea to me at the expense of having to relive the stress, pain, and anger that came with reconstructing those times. I’d tried to make art through a discovery of this nostalgia. But nostalgia often uncovers the raw truths of the past while celebrating the best parts of being young and simple and new to the world.
Read Getting Outside to Get Into Your Head here.
Writer-instructor Moira Farr wrote with a witty self-awareness about navigating the holidays with a mood disorder and aging parents while highlighting the value of small talk.
Comfort and joy don’t just happen. You have to create them, and that requires generosity of spirit (as Scrooge famously learned) instead of going so far inward you can’t see beyond your own navel.
Read May Your Days Be Merry and Bright As Possible here.
Author Debra Yearwood grappled with her complicated relationship with Kwanzaa as she tried to unknot — like so many strands of tree lights — questions of identity and the commercialization of Christmas. Her rhythmic writing rollicks with insights as she wrestles with the emotional toll of holiday traditions and expectations.
Then comes the guilt. I ate way too much. All that butter and sugar. Ugh. I think I can hear my arteries hardening. The familiar commitments to do better follow. Tomorrow I’ll have a salad. . . but then someone invited me out for lunch. Dinner with friends is on for the next day and of course all those friends I haven’t seen in, like, forever. Drinks! Wasn’t that a special bottle of rum! Oh, and the best Côtes du Rhône I’ve had in an age. Recriminations arrive in the morning, delivered in that scathing voice I reserve just for me. Ugh, again! But the see-saw of pleasure and punishment is just getting started.
Read Sugar and Spice and Trying to Be Nice here.
This year
Writer Eleanor Sage tackles a timely subject in “Sister Acts,” where she details her efforts to bring a sibling out of a misinformation rabbit hole in order to recapture some sort of relationship while grieving the connection they once had. Watch for it in our December issue.
Putting this series together feels like a gift and an honour. It’s a delight to coach emerging and established writers, and work with an extraordinary team of authors, editors, digital and web experts, project managers, translators, and illustrators. I hope you enjoy it as much as we enjoy presenting it. Happy holidays.
Fateema Sayani
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Butter just cost me $8. And I live in a major urban centre – I don’t even live in a rural or remote area of our vast country where I am sure that butter costs exorbitantly more. And you know what else just cost me more money? My medication, therapy (if I can even afford that at all), gas to get to the doctor to start with, pretty much every form of self-care – everything costs money, and everything costs more and more of it these days.
My financial health is taking a big hit in this economy, and I find myself lying awake at night worrying about my debt and bills and how I am going to make ends meet. And I worry about how I am going to take care of our health, for myself and my family – and, of course, our mental health. I don’t want to let mental health priorities slide, but if it comes down to paying for my son’s biweekly therapy bill or more material needs, what is going to take priority? And, of course, I’m never going to breathe a word of any of this to friends or family because stigma about mental health is one thing, but stigma about finances gives it a run for its money (no pun intended).
It is not an easy equation to balance, especially in a world that values physical health over mental health. Think of people who are living unhoused with substance use and mental health concerns. These are folks who are living with food insecurity, lack of shelter, and lack of safety. And they may also live with serious mental health needs. Trying to address only one of these concerns at a time is problematic because they all intersect, and you cannot manage the physical needs without addressing the mental and vice versa.
When I think of my son, I know that his mental health is just as important as his getting good nutrition. He cannot thrive without either his physical or mental health. But there is a difference between thriving and surviving, and in the current economy, sometimes the best we can hope for is to survive another day with the hopes of thriving when times are a little more favourable. When butter costs a little less, and we can afford medication and therapy and gas and self-care again.
If you’re lying awake at night wondering how you’re going to make ends meet, here are a few pieces of advice for your mental health:
- Breathe. It works for regular anxiety and money anxiety, too: deep breathing. Try looking up “four square breathing.”
- Do the math – on the actual state of your finances, that is. It may seem scary, but it helps you get a sense of control over what you are dealing with. And a sense of control is good when fighting anxiety.
- Reach out for help. Psychological help for your anxiety (money anxiety is real, and even one session at a free walk-in or a sliding scale counsellor can help!) and money help too. Just getting some help making a realistic budget from a nonprofit credit counsellor can help put you in the driver’s seat. You are never alone.
I would never recommend just surviving (rather than thriving) mental health-wise, but the balance is delicate, and I would be a fool to suggest otherwise. So, until everyone has access to affordable mental health care, take care of yourself the best you can and do what is right for you and your family. And do go easy on the butter until all this passes, will you?
Author: Jessica Ward-King
BSc, PhD, aka the StigmaCrusher, is a mental health advocate and keynote speaker with a rare blend of academic expertise and lived experience. Equipped with a doctorate in experimental psychology and firsthand knowledge of bipolar disorder, she’s both heavily educated and, as she likes to say, heavily medicated. Crazy smart, she’s been crushing mental health stigma since 2010.
