We live in a tough world, where everyone fights different battles to survive, to move on. A lot of us, however, engage in an especially terrifying battle – one tough enough that functioning normally in our daily lives becomes insanely difficult, one that is cruel enough to drive us to the point of exhaustion, and sometimes, surrender.
It is the fight against our own minds – the fight against mental illness, in which speaking up becomes tremendously distressing and difficult due to the incorrect ideologies when it comes to discussing mental health issues.
Despite the dangerous, perpetual stigmas and misconceptions revolving around mental illness, mental health is slowly, but definitely, becoming more socially accepted and understood, especially in the West. Many people are beginning to feel acknowledged, and are finding the courage to voice their issues after suffering in silence for too long.
However, when it comes to the Middle East, speaking about our mental problems is almost impossible.
Mental illness does not discriminate: people from all walks of life are affected, regardless of age, gender, ethnicity, or race. A study from the World Health Organization depicts that one of four people all around the globe suffer from some sort of mental illness, with the Middle East region holding the highest rates of mental disorders than any other region.
Though the rates of mental illness in different regions are relatively similar, why, out of every region, does the Middle East have the highest rates of mental disorders?
Why are we, as mentally ill people living in the Middle East, too afraid to speak up about our struggles?
The reason hides behind the bitter truth: the strong social and cultural stigmas the Middle East carries against mental illness – stigmas that prevent discussions, education, and aid.
The majority of people that make up the Middle East are we Arab Muslims who together share certain values, traditions, and old beliefs that are remarkably different from those of Westerners. For us, Islam is not only considered a religion but is also a way of living. It is the most important cultural factor that shapes people’s attitudes and ideologies. Being Arab Muslims has given us people a common identity – in other words, the cultural norms that we live by.
Those norms have molded us into thinking that mental health is taboo, something that should never be discussed. It has made us internalize our mental issues out of fear of being labeled and ostracized because it brings “shame” and “dishonor” to our families and friends. What is this shame, though?
For so long our society has unintentionally used norms that are sometimes disguised as religion to stigmatize mental illness by over-spiritualizing its cause and, therefore, its cure. We are taught that these illnesses we have no control over are a result of a lack of faith in God, rather than chemical imbalances in the brain resulting from complex factors, like environment. Our society then grows thinking that failure to trust God leads to illness. What a dangerous message this perpetuates: that mental illness is our fault for not being religious enough.
The doctrines and purpose of our norms and religion have served as both a guide and a hindrance to the practice of mental health care. We cling to the ancient teachings of curing mental issues and deny modern day approach, which sometimes people call the “Western world approach” to mental illness. It is from experience that we rely on outdated cultural beliefs that encouraging prayer and increasing faith is the adequate cure for mental illness.
Prayer and faith are powerful implements that can calm a troubled soul – there is no denying that – but telling people that prayer is the only sufficient cure for mental illness, while rejecting medical assistance and proper treatment, simply implies that prayer is all we need to be able function normally on a daily basis. It causes us sufferers to carry persistent feelings of shame when praying our illness away doesn’t seem to work. We start wondering: where did we go wrong?
But here is what people in our communities don’t realize: We could be the most religious person in the world and still suffer from mental illness.
Those old principles Muslim Arabs still rely on have resulted in ignorance. It was never hatred towards mentally ill people, but rather the lack of education and awareness in our communities. That is, the idea that mental health issues need to be addressed just like physical illness, with proper treatment and medication, is not common knowledge. It can be seen in how we, as a society, put physical illness first. A physically ill person gains support and sympathy from people who become receptive, understanding, and empathetic; however, when the struggle is in the mind, it is considered taboo, ignored, and looked down upon. Society attaches labels to the ill, stereotyping them as “abnormal” and “violent,” and associating the illness with negative connotations such as being shameful, weakening, or reputation damaging. Consequently, we avoid voicing our problems in fear of how people will view us, in fear of being abandoned.
The lack of awareness has not only led to faulty stereotypes but also to a lack of funding for mental health programs. Mental health was never a priority in our region, and therefore medical assistance and trained psychiatrists remain dangerously scarce. To illustrate, six out of twenty Arab countries still do not have a mental health legislation. According to the World Health Organization, while there are 0.5 psychiatrists per 10,000 people in most Arab countries, there are 1.2 in America. The difference is striking, disturbing, and terrifying – all of it rooting from the cultural and social stigmas that shaded people’s understanding towards such conditions in a very damaging light.
There is still limited information about mental health in the Middle East. Who knows how many people are battling suicidal thoughts? Who knows how many people are experiencing delusions and hallucinations?
The fight to raise awareness in the Middle East is long, painful, but ongoing. For so long, this silent suffering has plagued the Middle East. Taboo has become an inhibition to progress and growth, and it is fact that the stigma has scarred most of us ill people, terrified us of speaking about our struggles.
As a community, we need to do better. We need to break the stigma by understanding mental illness, debunking misconceptions, encourage voicing our struggles, and reshaping our old cultural norms and beliefs. Our societies need to learn that mental issues do not define people or bring shame, and those suffering from mental issues need proper medical support and treatment.
We can’t allow old beliefs and misconceptions to hold us back because no one should suffer in silence anymore.
Photo: Isa Sorensen/Creative Commons