Finger-snapping, neck winding,

bootylicious realness.

Jam-packed with attitude.

Strong, independent black woman.

That's me right?

Am I doing it right?

I'm asking because I often feel like I must be doing it wrong.

I must be because it seems so easy for those

stoical, wise-cracking black women I see on the TV screen.

This is what's expected of me.

What happens if you don't fit the mould?

What happens if you're made to feel that by just being yourself,

you're doing it wrong?

What effect can this have on your mental wellbeing?

Depression was something that happened to other people -

not me.

Ain't nobody got time for that. Too busy being strong and independent -

working twice as hard as everyone else

and trying to make good use of the opportunities

that now presented themselves to me

because of the grit and determination of the strong black women

who had paved the way before me.

So I was shocked when depression came for me in 2008.

What was most shocking was the realisation that

it had been there for a very long time waiting in the shadows.

I felt like I'd failed until I did some research

and discovered that this is more common

than I've been led to believe.

Stats from Gov.uk show that four times as many black people

were sectioned under the mental health act in 2017 to 18

than white people - four times as many.

According to the NHS, black British women are more prone than white women

to experience common mental disorders

such as...

And a recent University of Cambridge study

revealed that "Black women aged between 16 and 34..."

Something isn't adding up here.

The data's saying one thing

but social media, memes and the entertainment industry in general

are still pushing the strong, independent stereotype.

After I was diagnosed with depression

I suddenly became aware that I didn't see the world

in the same way that everyone else did.

That the way that I constantly criticised myself,

pushed myself to excel

and was cautious about celebrating achievements

wasn't the norm.

Actually that's not quite right -

it wasn't the norm for my white friends

but it was normal for the women in my family.

They struggled to be what was expected of them

but instead of rejecting the stereotype, they perpetuated it -

a survival mechanism which allowed them to

integrate and build communities in a hostile and unwelcoming environment.

But at what cost?

I would see glimpses of their pain and anger in private

but they would quickly hide it away.

From an early age I was taught

that you should never let anyone see your pain

because they would use it against you.

There was a sense that life was a battle.

To win you had to work twice as hard as everyone else

for half as much reward and keep smiling and laughing

but not too much.

If you were too happy then someone would take it away from you.

That's a lot, right?

Where does that mindset come from?

And how does a black woman navigate her way through it all?

Luckily, there are mental health organisations out there

that are specifically designed to support the black British community.

I spoke to Jacqui Dyer and Natalie Creary

from Black Thrive to discuss their work.

So where do you think the stereotype of the

strong independent black woman comes from?

I think it comes all the way back from slavery to be quite frank.

These are some of the stories that went round

in order to help to enslave our black population.

The black woman is expected

to carry the weight of the world on their shoulder

and to provide the support and the care for others

when actually black women also need to be cared for -

they need to be nurtured.

Where else can black British women receive help and support?

Take some steps and communicate what is going on inside you

that you actually don't need to be bearing on your own.

To be a strong black woman is also to be a vulnerable black woman.

I'd say find somebody who you can trust, who you can talk with.

It's going to see your GP, reaching out to your social networks.

We need to be able to let our guard down

and to say, "Actually I'm feeling vulnerable."

And, "I need help."

The strong, independent black woman trope

was a much-needed survival mechanism,

but for second and third-generation black women

it's a mechanism that has served its purpose

and has the potential to become a self-destructive identity

that can actually do more harm than good.

I'm so grateful for the sacrifices made by my elders

and the hardships they had to endure.

Their strength will always lie within me

which means I can allow myself to be more than just strong.

Out of respect for them, I'm learning to show

the sides of myself that they had to keep hidden away.

It's OK not to be OK.

It takes courage to speak honestly about how you're feeling.

I can be strong and accept my weaknesses.

Independent and vulnerable.

Move away from the stereotype and embrace my true self.