In her debut documentary feature, Black People Don’t Get Depressed, Johannesburg-based independent filmmaker Sara Chitambo closely examines how mental illness manifests itself across the African diaspora. She invites us to bear witness to her audacious attempt at unraveling the culture of silence surrounding the taboo topic of mental health in the diaspora as she embarks on this exploration of self and community. The documentary, filmed at the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, features a harrowing homegoing scene to her village, Lukulu as well as interviews with attendees of the late South African rapper Riky Rick’s memorial service. By placing her experiences and the personal narratives of fellow artists and cultural workers under the microscope, Chitambo disavows ‘depression’ as a dirty word and architects her own narrative around mental health.

Chyna Cassell: Your film, Black People Don’t Get Depressed, addresses how taboo the topic of mental health can be for Africans on the continent and in the diaspora. What has the response from your loved ones been to your work as participants in its creation/production and what has it been to the final product?

Sara Chitambo: Initially, getting my mom and my aunt involved in the film was very difficult. My mom was very camera-shy, she didn’t want the camera in front of her. She got used to it about the second or third day of us being with her but she really didn’t want to talk about [mental health] because of fear of what other people are going to say. And also, just a very big discomfort around the topic. My aunt, who’s older than my mom, was a little bit more open about it. So it was a very difficult subject to broach, to begin with. But in terms of seeing the final product, my mom is very congratulatory. She says, “I can see how much time and effort you put into it.” She actually wants to have a family screening over Christmas because we all gather together at Christmastime. So yeah, I thought that she would be a little bit more on the side of ‘it makes me look bad’ or ‘you look ungrateful for everything you have’ but she was very supportive and very congratulatory about the final product so I’m very happy about that.

Cassell: That’s great to hear. If it were my mom I would have the same things running through my head. The defense mechanisms broaching those conversations, like you said. Was the film a catalyst for more open discussions on mental health in your family and community?

Chitambo: Yeah, I think I’ll see some more when we’re actually together with the broader family and they get to watch it, to see if they get to open up. Because the reason I made the film is, my cousin Helena who’s in the film, her mom died and her mom was the first reference we had as kids of someone having mental health difficulties. She was in and out of psychiatric wards but we didn’t understand that necessarily as children. And I think [the adults in our family] didn’t speak to us about it because they were trying to protect us. But the fact is we are older now and I really hope that they’re able to–even for their own healing and their own understanding of what their sister was going through for so many years–that it helps them talk about it easier now. That’s my hope because they’ve still never said anything to us about that, you know. So I really hope that does encourage my mom and my aunts and uncles to be able to, you know, process and
face what their sister went through.

Cassell: Right and you mentioned your cousin Helena and I thought the conversation featuring her was very interesting. There was a moment where she spoke about collective and ancestral trauma due to colonial violence because her mother was Zambian and her father is Irish. Both countries have a very fraught history with colonialism, particularly British colonialism. Helena mentioned how that manifested in her emotionally and psychologically, and I thought that was a brilliant articulation of an experience familiar to so many of us. How do you feel like your experience as an Indigenous South African has lived with you and shown up in your day-to-day struggles with mental health?

Chitambo: I think a lot of it is around what we were led to believe about ourselves–that we were inferior, that we had to be subservient, that we had to cower and know our position. So I can see how a lot of that plays out in relations with people of other races. It’s almost like you take a backseat when dealing with them because that’s just what you’ve always been told: let them speak first then you speak second, et cetera. There are ways in which my generation and the generations coming after me are challenging that but there is a very deep-rooted inferiority complex that I find us as Black South Africans primarily have and have had to unlearn. There’s a lot of these sort of madam-versus-worker relations that a lot of white people naturally inhabit, a space in which they inhabit as being superior by default. We’ve also internalized a lot of that and I think it does lead to having a lower self-esteem, playing small, and those manifestations in terms of real-world experience. I think there are some ways in which you’re distrustful of people of certain races or people who hold certain positions just because of your prior beliefs or what you’ve been taught about them growing up.

Cassell: Yes, I think from an American perspective, the history of South Africa is very similar but also very different. There are different racial categories, there are things that go over our heads so I think it’s important about how that plays into today’s landscape because Apartheid was not very long ago. There’s still that lingering odor that a lot of white people particularly slide past and fail to recognize. In the film, we see the memorial of Riky Rick, the late South African rapper who died by suicide. The interviews featured some prominent artists and personalities. [Black People Don’t Get Depressed] was shot during the pandemic, which was a very difficult time for people. Hayden Manuel says, “Vulnerability is strength,” and Teeky Mabethula says, “Black people, mental health does matter.” How do we foster vulnerability in our communities in real time as opposed to retrospectively as in this case?

Chitambo: I think that’s a very important question in terms of looking out for each other, protecting each other, assisting each other when we need help. But [there is] also this culture of us not being able to ask for help. I think to a lot of people, because of the shame and stigma that has been around mental illness, it’s very difficult to express, ‘I’m struggling’. So I think it starts with us teaching young people to be expressive about how they feel and letting them know it’s okay to express that so that people start understanding from an early age, ‘If I dont feel okay, if I’m disappointed, I can be sad and I can express it and nobody’s going to judge me or shout out at me or call me weak because I want to cry or because I’m a little boy.” So I think it starts with how we’re raising our children. And also it starts with understanding that we all need each other as communities. So there’s a lot of work being done around that and just going back to the idea of community. We live very individualized lives where people forget that people care about them. Especially with the amount of time we spend online; we think we’re connected but we’re actually very much far removed. Also very sedentary online; we’re sitting still. We need to get outside more, touch and feel things, get hugs and human contact from others. So I think a lot of in-person connection is important and just the feeling of movement and activity and mobility is important to also awaken our feel-good hormones. Getting outside, being with community, and holding space is important for us to foster a feeling of connectedness in general.

Cassell: Yes, and you mentioned hugs and it reminded me of when I read that the average person needs eight hugs a day. I’m not getting that and I think in general we could all use more!

Chitambo: Yeah, absolutely.

Cassell: There was also a part in the documentary that really intrigued me. This film introduced me–and I’m sure others–to Surf Therapy. It sounds great. What other creative forms of therapy have you been introduced to and organizations providing support that you’ve come across or worked with? Because I believe that the more people learn, the more they’re open about receiving therapy.

Chitambo: Exactly! There are different forms of therapy; it’s not only going to a therapist’s office, lying down on a couch, and sitting opposite them. I’ve heard people do walking therapy, I’ve heard of, in Cape Town here in South Africa, there’s a woman who came to our screening (because we had some screenings last week at Encounters Film Festival) and she runs an organization called Holding Space. She invites primarily people of color to come and do family constellations as a way of healing. So going back into your family tree and into your ancestry and looking at what happened so that you’re not carrying all of that as your own. Because there’s a lot of things that we carry–things that were not resolved in past generations. Even if you don’t know a lot about your great-grandmother, or your great-grandfather, picturing where your parents came from, [you’re] creating a constellation that you can process and go through. I haven’t done it yet but I find that it’s a very beautiful way of honoring but also letting go of things that are not yours. And then in the film as well, there is the Ebukhosini which is what Baba Buntu and Mama Teuoho do, they have these community gatherings. They have co-ed gatherings but they also take the men and the women separately and just go through healing
circles for these groups of people. I think at any given time there are cohorts of 10-12 in a group and they go through different facilitated discussions around their mental health. So I just find that really, really beautiful. Something that’s been working for me is tapping. So almost like tapping into your Meridian points.
[She taps her forehead and temples, neck, and shoulders]
Like that, under your eyes. Just awakening your body, it’s just calming your nervous system down. I think that’s something we often overlook; depression can be quite a physical thing. You feel like like you can’t breathe or you feel shivers or you feel quite stuck. So it’s a way to really awaken, loosen, the body, and calm your nervous system [by saying] ‘You’re not under attack, everything is fine’. Those are just a few things I’ve come across that I find useful or beautiful.

Cassell: That’s amazing. And to your point earlier, we’re not as connected as we think we are. Our world has changed so drastically that another common talking point when it comes to mental health is how disconnected we are from our bodies and finding our way back to being at one. A friend who is a social worker told me that you’ll often find when you’re anxious or stressed, you’re not breathing properly. It is a way to get yourself and your nervous system calm. And, I mean, there’s so much information that we would benefit from.

Chitambo: Exactly. You know, the world is so full of information and we’re being bombarded online with so much information. But how much of it is actually useful? We’re taking in so much, but how much are we actually using, and how much of it actually feels good? It’s something that I’m questioning.

Cassell: That’s a great point. That’s been something that’s come up in my life, too. We hear so much about celebrities, and I’m like, how consequential is any of this? What does that have to do with enriching our lives? We’re in the information age but half of the information is definitely discardable.

Chitambo: Exactly.

Cassell: There is a scene in the documentary where you visit your native Lukulu Village and you break down because your mother wants you to walk to your mother’s grandmother’s house but you can’t remember the way. You say, “I want to go but I can’t get there by myself”. Ironically, it reminds me of the saying, “It takes a village”. How do you lean on your community and collaborators in times of emotional or mental distress and what were some ways you do so during the process of filming?

Chitambo: We had a fantastic woman, who was part of our behind-the-scenes crew, who’s a life coach. So when things got hard, I could go to her, I could vent. But my producer was also really sensitive to the whole process. She understood how much it took for me to be both the director, but also be in the film with my personal story. So at any given point, you know, she would give me a lot of encouragement. She would be like, “If you don’t want to carry on anymore, I would absolutely understand. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We don’t even have to finish the film,” you know? So when she said that, I had a very good feeling of being safe and supported, and it helped [me] to push through a lot of it. And I think also because when Dr.Cindy died, it was also almost like an ode to her life to make sure that this film was finished in her honor. So that kept me going as well. I had a purpose for making the film. So, yeah, it did get very difficult. I think we make films because we think what we’re doing is important. So if you find that, you know, you’re not feeling good, you remember why you’re doing it, and it helps you push through.

Cassell: Yes, and in the same vein, during filming, there are so many things that you plan for and that you have in spreadsheets, that which you anticipate. But what were some things during the process that you didn’t see coming, and how did they pan out in the long run?

Chitambo: So I think because of the nature of speaking about mental health and mental illness as well, I had two very strong potential participants in the film. I always knew that I wanted it to be quite pan-African. I always knew that I wanted poetry in it, and I knew that I wanted it to be about a lot of creatives. So we had a fantastic poet from Kenya, a very strong advocate, but she got cold feet. We had been working and doing pre-production with her for about two months, and she just couldn’t do it, she just couldn’t go through with it. She said in so many words that it was because of distance, but she just literally stopped answering our phone calls and stopped responding. And similarly, another filmmaker from Cameroon that we had approached and were keen on at the beginning, she explicitly stated that it was going to be too much. “People are going to judge me. I might lose jobs because people think I’m depressed all the time and won’t want to work with me.” That stigma was very real. I didn’t expect that people would be so afraid to speak out. But it makes sense because you’re almost highlighting [struggles with mental health] and because of our limited understanding, you almost start being seen in that very one-dimensional way. And on the flip side, the other thing that surprised me was the people that stayed and the people that we managed to get in the film up until the end. Their openness and their willingness to share their stories about what they had been through surprised me. It touched me so much for people to be able to be so open in sharing their stories and experiences. So those are the two things I can say I didn’t see coming. But on the other side as well, just how much I had to learn about producing a film because I just thought, oh, writer-director, and that’s it; but you have to put on a producer’s hat on some days. You have to. At the end of the day, I ended up doing the music and the scoring for the film. Just in terms of other things that I learned and what it taught me going through it is invaluable. I mean, I learned about broadcast compliance, things I never had to deal with before. But because it was an independent film, you have to go into different departments and run with it. And the thing I appreciate the most about the film is just the feeling that I have on the other side of completing it. It almost feels just like a gift to me–it feels like I am so much more confident. I understand and process my low days and the dark days that I have so much better because I have a much better understanding. So I just feel like it gave me back a lot of
confidence, and I feel like I’m able to do a lot more things. And I think Dr. Cindy also says this in the film, that after going through therapy, she’s not afraid and she could do so much more. Because before, I had so many doubts and limitations, but I realized a lot of them were in my mind and just understanding myself better has given me the confidence to be able to do a lot more things.

Cassell: I think the audience could see that–the film very much felt like a triumph in itself. And with the unfortunate passing of Dr. Cindy, it felt like even more of a testament to the labor of love that it was. But I can imagine the post-production was difficult for that reason. You spoke about some people being scared because they don’t want to be perceived as mentally unfit in a professional setting. How did you overcome that stigma? Because I think as professionals–and as Black women–there are these barriers and these glass ceilings, so to speak. People are already thinking we can’t do it. And then when you have the stigma of mental illness there, it’s an uphill battle on two fronts.

Chitambo: I think it’s something that happened as the film was already being made. I didn’t think, ‘Okay, now I’m ready to tell this’. Therefore I’m unafraid of what people will say. It was almost something inevitable. It’s almost something that wouldn’t leave me alone. And I also just got tired of running away. [It was] an exchange between my liberation and the fear of what people would say; my liberation and healing became much more important. I wasn’t focusing on what the impact might be. I think when the film was finished, it might have come back. It’s like, ‘Oh, my goodness, people are going to see this!’ Because of course, people are going to see everything. You know? Being in New York and seeing how people at the New York African Film Festival reacted to the film, there were a lot of first and second-generation people from Nigeria, from The Congo, et cetera. So that was beautiful to see how they embraced it. I was reassured that it was the right thing to do.

Cassell: I think as a young person, the amount of vulnerability [in the film] was very appreciated because we’re taught the older we get, the quieter we should get and the more we should put up with all the things that we don’t like about our world. The film challenges those notions. You touched on AFF, but I wanted to know how it felt to broadcast your film to an international audience because New York is very international.

Chitambo: It’s an absolute melting pot. And for me, the triumph was getting through to people who don’t know me but felt so–it felt like people were so engaged with the film. The Q&A went on for almost an hour afterward, just people sharing their stories in a movie theater was really powerful; it felt like a therapy session for everyone who was there. You know, it felt like we all needed that moment to be able to reflect on our mental state, to think about solutions and better ways to approach this in the future. So it was quite daunting initially, knowing that it’s an international audience and I’ll be held to certain standards. But I think the authenticity and the emotion came through [which made it] relatable to people who are different from me.

In the meantime, you can keep up with Sara Chitambo’s work here.