By Eloy Barragán
Growing up in Mexico City in the 1970s I, like anyone in a major metropolitan area, was surrounded by people with mental illness—in my family, in my neighborhood, in the streets, schools, churches… everywhere.
I know that now. But back then people suffering from serious mental illnesses like schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and chronic depression, were invisible. They were there, in our families, our classrooms, our studios. Only I couldn’t see them.
Or rather, I couldn’t see their illness for what it was: not a personality flaw or punishment from on high, but a brain disease like Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, or ALS. The community I grew up in was very Catholic. Poverty was all around, every day of our lives. Faith and prayers were all most people had to get through the day, or an illness, or a tragedy.
But the church also contributed to the stigma surrounding mental illness. Those afflicted by psychosis or delusions o…
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