Suicide has long been treated as a subject shrouded in silence within many Black families and communities, but a growing body of data suggests that this silence may be doing more harm than good. On May 10, 2010, NPR host Michel Martin lost her brother to suicide, an event she says she thinks about nearly every day. Yet for years, she could not bring herself to speak about it. When conversations about suicide arose, she would sometimes feel compelled to physically leave the room, a reaction she acknowledges was not especially practical for someone working in journalism.
That personal struggle has evolved into a broader mission. Martin has come to believe that the reluctance to discuss suicide openly is no longer sustainable, particularly as the numbers grow more alarming. She argues that silence, however well-intentioned, is not shielding Black Americans from the problem — it may be allowing the crisis to deepen unchecked.
The statistics bear this out. According to data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, suicide rates among Black Americans have climbed by more than 50 percent over roughly the past decade. Even more striking is the trend among young people: suicide rates among Black youth are rising at a particularly dramatic pace. In 2022, the rate of suicides by firearm among Black youth surpassed that of white youth, a milestone that public health experts describe as deeply troubling.
These figures arrive at a moment when government-backed public health initiatives are pulling back from programs designed to address the distinct needs of different communities. In that context, Martin chose to confront the issue directly, with what she describes as care, sensitivity, and honesty, rather than avoidance.
To that end, she hosted a live NPR Morning Edition event titled "Going There: A Matter of Life and Death." The program assembled a panel of clinicians, lawmakers, and individuals who have lived with the pain of suicide loss, speaking before a live audience whose members had also been touched by the crisis. Among the participants were Debra Lee, CEO emerita of BET; Rep. Bonnie Watson Coleman, D-N.J.; psychiatrist Dr. Paul Nestadt; retired NFL champion Vernon Davis; WWE superstar Ettore "Big E" Ewen; and Rev. Johnny Parker, who serves as both a pastor and a counselor.
The conversation set out to examine why the crisis is occurring, how it is affecting Black communities, and, most crucially, what steps can be taken in response. By bringing together medical professionals, public officials, faith leaders, and athletes, the event sought to bridge the gap between clinical expertise and lived experience — a gap that often prevents people from seeking help.
One of the most candid moments came from Vernon Davis, a Super Bowl-winning tight end who spoke openly about his own battles with panic attacks and depression. Davis described experiencing episodes during games in which he would sit on the bench and struggle to breathe. In those moments, he said, he felt for a split second that he did not want to be alive, that he had nothing to live for. The feelings came on quickly and without warning.
Davis now treats his mental health as a daily priority. After losing both his brother and his sister in close succession, he began speaking more publicly about his experiences. He explained that his motivation is simple: there are people enduring the same struggles he faced, and they need to know that someone else has walked that path. Hearing from someone who understands, he suggested, can make an enormous difference for those who feel isolated in their suffering.
The panel also featured Dr. Paul Nestadt, a psychiatrist who serves as medical director of the Johns Hopkins Center for Suicide Prevention and is recognized as a national authority on the subject. His presence underscored the importance of grounding community conversations in clinical evidence while still acknowledging the cultural and emotional dimensions of the crisis.
The broader implications of the discussion extend beyond statistics. Suicide is already recognized as a public health crisis across the United States, but within the Black community, that crisis is becoming especially severe. Factors such as stigma, limited access to culturally competent mental health care, and the legacy of systemic inequities can compound the risk and discourage people from speaking up.
Martin's decision to share her own story reflects a shifting approach to a subject that has traditionally been treated as private, even shameful. By hosting a public forum and discussing her brother's death, she is challenging the notion that silence equals protection. Instead, the event makes the case that acknowledgment, conversation, and community support are essential tools in prevention.
The participation of figures from sports, entertainment, politics, and religion also signals that suicide prevention is not solely a medical issue. It touches every corner of society, and trusted public voices can help normalize the act of seeking help. When a retired NFL champion describes panic attacks, or when a pastor speaks about counseling, the message reaches audiences who might never encounter a psychiatrist's office.
For Martin, the effort is both professional and deeply personal. She notes that rarely a day passes without her thinking of her brother. What has changed is her willingness — and her determination — to talk about him, and about the larger crisis that continues to claim lives. The conversation, she insists, must continue, because the alternative has already proven costly.
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