“I’m fine.”
“I’m good.”
“I’ll be alright.”
We’ve all heard it—and many of us have said it—when we were absolutely not okay.
Whether it’s your uncle with untreated diabetes, your sister going through something she won’t talk about, or a friend who’s been “off” lately, those two little words—I’m fine—can be a mask for pain, fear, and deep emotional exhaustion.
In Black communities, this phrase is more than just a deflection. It’s a survival tool, rooted in generations of cultural trauma, distrust, and resilience. Understanding why we say we’re fine—especially when we’re not—is the first step to helping each other get real about our health, our emotions, and healing.
Cultural Survival: “We Didn’t Have Time to Be Sick”
Let’s take it back. Our people—Black folks in the U.S. and across the Diaspora—have had to hold it together through the unthinkable. Enslavement, segregation, police violence, medical abuse, generational poverty, and systemic racism didn’t leave room for fragility.
Saying “I’m fine” was armor.
It meant, “I can’t afford to break down.”
It meant, “If I admit I’m not okay, what will happen to me?”
It meant, “Nobody’s going to help anyway.”
This survivalism has been passed down through generations. Even when we’re bleeding emotionally, physically, or spiritually, we’ve learned to stay strong, keep going, and not make a fuss.
The Strong Black Woman schema is one well-documented example of this legacy, often encouraging Black women to suppress their needs to care for others and preserve dignity.
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Medical Mistrust Is Real
Our communities also have deep, justified mistrust of medical systems—and for good reason.
- The Tuskegee Syphilis Study, where Black men were experimented on without consent
- The use of Henrietta Lacks’ cells without her permission
- The high Black maternal mortality rate, where Black women are three times more likely to die during childbirth than white women
- Black pain is often undervalued or dismissed in healthcare settings
So when your cousin skips their follow-up, or your brother avoids the ER even when his chest is tight, it’s not just about stubbornness. It’s about trauma and defense mechanisms.
They might be thinking:
- “They won’t listen to me anyway.”
- “I don’t want them running tests and scaring me.”
- “I don’t want to be experimented on.”
- “If I go in, I might not come out.”
This fear isn’t irrational. It’s historical. And it sits in our nervous systems.
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Emotional Repression as a Learned Behavior
For many Black folks—especially men—vulnerability has been framed as weakness. Growing up, a lot of us heard things like:
- “Stop crying before I give you something to cry about.”
- “Man up.”
- “Don’t let them see you break.”
So we learn to tuck our feelings deep down. Over time, emotional repression becomes the default, and “I’m fine” becomes the script—even when someone is dealing with grief, depression, chronic illness, or mental health struggles.
Signs They’re Not Fine (Even When They Say They Are)
You know your people. You feel it in your gut when something’s off. Here are subtle signs that someone might be struggling beneath the surface:
- Withdrawing from family or group chats
- Cancelling plans or going silent for long periods
- Snapping over small things or seeming irritable all the time
- Big changes in sleep, eating, or energy
- Saying things like “I’m tired of all this,” or “I just want peace”
- Joking about death or disappearing—don’t brush this off
- Talking in circles when asked how they are
- Going too hard—hyper-productivity is sometimes a cover for avoidance
Even if they’re functioning, don’t confuse coping with healing. Survival is not the same as being well.
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How to Gently Open the Door
So, how do you reach someone who says “I’m fine” but clearly isn’t?
1. Choose the right moment
Catch them during a quiet time, not when they’re rushed or overwhelmed. A phone call, a car ride, or a casual one-on-one can be better than a public or high-pressure convo.
2. Lead with empathy, not pressure
Say things like:
“You’ve been on my heart lately. Just checking in—how are you really?”
“I’ve noticed you’ve been quieter than usual. Everything okay?”
“You don’t have to talk if you’re not ready, but I’m here. No judgment.”
3. Ask twice
People often default to “I’m fine” the first time. Ask again gently.
“I hear you. But just in case ‘fine’ means something else today—I got time to listen.”
4. Share first
Model vulnerability by talking about your own stress or health issues.
“I didn’t realize how much I was holding until I broke down last month. That’s why I ask.”
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What NOT to Say
“You just need to pray about it.”
Spiritual support is real, but it’s not a substitute for therapy or care.
“You’re being dramatic.”
This shuts people down and deepens silence.
“Other people have it worse.”
Pain is not a competition.
“You’re too strong to let this get to you.”
Strength is not the absence of struggle.
“Just get over it.”
Healing is not linear. Grief, depression, and trauma take time.
Why “I’m Fine” Is Often About Protection
When someone says, “I’m fine,” what they might really mean is:
“I don’t know how to talk about this.”
“I’m afraid of falling apart.”
“I don’t want to be a burden.”
“I was taught not to ask for help.”
It’s not always about denial—it’s about survival programming. But we’re allowed to unlearn that. We’re allowed to redefine wellness as something we build together, not something we fake alone.
Encouraging the Shift: From “Fine” to Healing
Little by little, we can help shift the script:
- Normalize therapy. Mention your own therapist or share culturally affirming mental health spaces.
- Bring healing into the culture. Share books, podcasts, or music that speak on real emotional health. Check on your “strong friends.” Not with judgment, but with love.
- Give people permission to feel. Say: “Whatever you’re feeling is valid.”
“I’m Fine” Doesn’t Have to Be the End of the Conversation
When someone says, “I’m fine,” don’t stop listening. Listen with your heart. Listen with your spirit. Ask again. Hold space. Be patient. And remind them:
“You don’t have to carry it alone.”
“You don’t have to be fine to be loved.”
“You deserve support, even if you’re still figuring it out.”
Because behind every “I’m fine,” there’s a story. And sometimes, your presence is the first step toward someone finding the words—and the help—they truly need.
