Healing is not about becoming "hard." Healing is about allowing the soft parts to breathe again.
In the lexicon of American struggle, the phrase "Black boy addiction" rarely conjures images of pharmaceutical commercials or suburban rehab clinics. Instead, it whispers of cracked pavement, flickering streetlights, and the heavy silence of a 15-year-old who learned to numb his feelings before he learned to spell his name.
Black boys are often raised with the "Stop crying. Be a man." mandate. Emotional expression is coded as weakness. Vulnerability is lethal. So where does a 12-year-old boy put his rage when his best friend is shot? Where does he put his grief when his mother works three jobs and never has time to ask, "How was school?"