death by suicide.

And sometimes, Black boys die. Sometimes they’re killed, but sometimes, they die by suicide. And sometimes, Black girls, who loved Black boys, hearts burst open and their souls wail a guttural cry. And sometimes, as a person who supports Black girls as a mental health practitioner, a clinical art therapist, I have no words after a long day.  So sometimes, I rely upon my artist as therapist identity to engage the world.

Last night, I revisited a collage I made awhile back.  I found courage in it, section              by                  section.


seeker (c) nicole jhanrea


salve (c) nicole jhanrea


remix (c) nicole jhanrea


reciprocity (c) nicole jhanrea


despite… (c) nicole jhanrea

2 thoughts on “death by suicide.

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