They’re Cutting the Programs That Actually Help Us — And Nobody’s Talking About It

The federal government is pulling funding from Black mental health programs. Here’s what we’re losing.

Let me be clear about something: the mental health system was not built for us. It never was. And the community organizations that filled that gap — the ones led by people who look like us, who speak our language, who understand that our healing lives at the intersection of housing, food, safety, and soul — those programs are now being defunded.

In California alone, the Community Responsive Wellness Program delivered more than 13,000 services to more than 2,700 residents between 2024 and 2025 — many of whom had never accessed mental health services before. These weren’t clinical waiting rooms with six-week intake paperwork. These were people embedded in neighborhoods, picking up desperate calls from mothers sleeping in bus stations with six children. And within hours, that network had the family in a hotel, their kids back in school, and every family member connected to care.

That’s what community-centered healing looks like. That’s what we built. And that’s what Trump-era funding cuts are dismantling.

Black people make up 7% of the general population but 26% of Californians experiencing homelessness — an inequity rooted in decades of discriminatory housing policies, over-policing, and inadequate access to culturally responsive care. This is not an accident. It is architecture. And the response to it — these community models that treat mental health as inseparable from housing, food, and belonging — is exactly what is being stripped away.

The Black Emotional and Mental Health Collective (BEAM) still stands. They train community leaders, therapists, teachers, barbers, and medical professionals to apply healing justice–informed strategies that support people in mental health crisis while building community-based systems of care. They are doing the work. But they cannot do it alone and they cannot do it without resources.

Here’s what Zora wants you to take away: your healing is political. When systems fail our people, our people build new ones. Support the organizations still fighting — BEAM, Therapy for Black Girls, Black Men Heal. Learn their names. Share their work. Donate when you can.

Because they came for our programs. And our response has to be louder than silence.


Source: CalMatters / BEAM Tags: #BlackMentalHealth #HealingJustice #PurposelyAwakened #TheAwakened #CommunityHealing

Zora
Zora

She doesn't have a last name. She doesn't need one. Zora is The Awakened — the living voice of Purposely Awakened. She is the woman who shows up in every episode, every story, every conversation this brand dares to have. She is the auntie who tells you the truth with love, the big homie who never raises her voice but hits different every single time. Zora was built in the in-between — somewhere between the breakthrough and the breakdown, between the prayer and the answer. She has been through something. She read something. She felt something. And she came out the other side with receipts and grace. She is not here to perform healing. She is here to witness yours. When Purposely Awakened speaks, it speaks through Zora. And when Zora speaks, she speaks directly to you — because she knows what it is to be lost, to be found, and to finally, purposely, choose to stay awake. She calls everyone "beloved." And she means it every single time.

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