"What Do the Lonely Do?..." — On the Black Experience of Seasonal Depression
The holidays can be tough for everybody navigating grief, depression and trauma. For Black folks, it can often hit entirely different.
‘Tis the season to be jolly/But how can I be when I have nobody/The yuletide carol doesn't make it better/Knowing that we won't be together/A silent night/I know it's gonna be/Joy to the world/But it's gonna be sad for me - “What Do the Lonely Do data Christmas”, The Emotions
In 1973, Stax Records’ singing group, The Emotions, recorded the timeless classic “What Do the Lonely Do at Christmas” in the same holiday season Motown Records released A Motown Christmas which featured Yuletide bangers such as “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” by the Jackson 5, “What Christmas Means to Me by Stevie Wonder,” and the iconic in my miiiind rendition of “Silent Night” by The Temptations. And if you were to poll several random Black folks about their top Christmas season songs, it is likely that the aforementioned Motown classics, along with others such as “This Christmas” by Donny Hathaway, “Let It Snow” by Boyz II Men/Brian McKnight, and “Christmas in Hollis” by Run DMC, would end up with higher placement on GOAT-level holiday joints ahead of “What Do the Lonely Do.”
Presumably, those other songs would rank higher not because they were that much better composed, better produced, or better sung, but because those songs, for all intent and purpose, better embody the spirit of “good tidings and great joy” that is synonymous with the holiday season, whereas “What Do the Lonely Do” asks a real yet melancholy question about how does one go about handling lost love during a time of year when messaging of togetherness and family is foregrounded everywhere you go.
And though the lyrics of “What Do the Lonely Do” mostly suggest that the Chicago trio was crooning about how it felt to miss having a romantic partner to kiss beneath the mistletoe and exchange heartfelt gifts with, the larger theme of the record speaks to a universal truth that is relative for many of us this time of year — which is how often improbable it is to be of good cheer and joyful when grief and depression are the lumps of coal staining your every attempt at smiling merrily and bright.
I think a lot about how what is known as the holiday season is marketed to us, and how its messaging of festiveness and merriment can be conflicting for folks that are deeply hurting. Sure, we can be well versed on the historical inaccuracies, pagan rituals, and consumerism that spans from Thanksgiving to New Year and can choose to detach ourselves from any “reason for the season” ideologies we do not agree with. Still, it is impossible to erase every memory associated with this point in the calendar year, especially the ones that involve invaluable time spent with people we once loved in the physical world.
This time of year also runs parallel to a season of psychological change in our brain’s chemistry. Seasonal affective disorder (SAD) is a type of depression that happens during certain seasons of the year, most often in fall or winter, and is brought on as a result of less sunlight and shorter days. Or to put it this way, the same early sunsets that might have once been filled with caroling through the night or sitting fireside with loved ones who brought us the most peace may now produce feelings of never-ending darkness on account of no longer having the people in our lives who provided warmth to combat the bitter winds of change.
The holiday season can be difficult for anyone dealing with grief or unresolved trauma but for Black Americans, as with practically everything else, the “most wonderful time of the year” can compound already existing disparities in mental health issues. According to the National Institute on Minority Health and Health Disparities (NIMHD), matters of economic distress, overt and subtle racism, and inequitable social circumstances in the Black community increase the risk of depression or other mental illnesses and are more pronounced during the holiday season.
As I have previously written on this platform, Black folks do not have a monopoly on despair in the United States, or anywhere else. But when Black folks experience sadness or feelings of despondency or depression, it is never a singular matter of concern. Because when you spend your days navigating systemic racism and inequity, the mischaracterization of your personhood, cultural appropriation, etc., you want nothing more than to suspend those moments of dehumanization in exchange for moments of peace on Earth.
The last thing you want is to be separated from those who mean the world to you during a season when their presence would gift you the things the world often denies you — unconditional love… acceptance… good times… joy.