Navigating Mental Health as an Immigrant Woman

Bukola Ojemakinde is a dedicated advocate for Black immigrant women and girls, committed to creating inclusive spaces and providing vital community support. She is the founder Ladies in the Family Foundation (LIFF) which supports Black immigrant women and girls by helping them establish a sense of belonging in Canada through mentorship, talent development, and mental health programs. One of its key initiatives, HerConnect, provides around the clock mental health support to Black women and girls in Calgary. She also founded Bridge to Oasis Foundation providing resources and community support for Black seniors, ensuring they have access to critical services and opportunities for social engagement. 

Bukola’s journey into advocacy began with her background in chemical engineering and a deep passion for volunteerism. Recognizing the gaps in community support, she leveraged her ability to identify needs and connect people with vital resources. Under her leadership, her organizations have raised over $1 million to sustain and expand their programs. Committed to fostering lasting change, Bukola continues to champion initiatives that empower individuals, strengthen community ties, and ensure equitable access to support systems for Black Canadians. 

For Black immigrant women and girls, mental health challenges are often compounded by the weight of cultural expectations, gendered roles, and the pressure to assimilate into a new society. Many find themselves caught between two worlds, carrying the emotional weight of their past while navigating the often-unspoken rules of their present. Bukola Ojemakinde has been at the forefront of addressing these issues in Calgary. In this conversation, Bukola reflects on the complexities of Black mental health, the challenges Black immigrant women and girls face, and how we can build meaningful support systems. 

You spent years building a career in engineering before shifting paths into advocacy. Was there a specific moment or experience that made you realize this was the direction you needed to take? 

Bukola Ojemakinde: I’m forever an engineer and will always practice engineering. It can be taken anywhere, even in the nonprofit space. But sometimes, community building meets you where you are. While working in engineering, I was deeply immersed, and they would come and say, “Who wants to go volunteer at a drop-in center to serve breakfast to the homeless?” And I would say, “Yeah, I’ll go.” “Who wants to go to the homes for the blind and help them with their garden?” If I was available, I’d go. 

The organization I used to work for valued volunteering, so they would dedicate time, maybe half a day once a quarter, to give back. I participated a few times, but I didn’t realize it was already changing my perspective and who I was. 

Then at some point, I became involved in fundraising for cancer through a cycling event, and I did it for over three years. I would raise funds and cheer on the cyclists. Then, I had a moment of realization, how can someone cycle 100 kilometers for a person they didn’t even know, just because they cared? It made me think: There are so many other people in Calgary I don’t know who also need support. 

One thing I’m gifted with is the ability to talk to anyone. I could approach the CEO of an organization and ask, “How can I help, or how can you help me?” I also had a talent for identifying needs-and I realized I could do more than just see the gaps; I could also find the resources to fill them. 

One thing was missing, though. My eyes may not have seen the whole picture. I began to realize that the fact that someone is hungry, it doesn’t necessarily mean food is their only need. They might require skill-building to get a job, or other support to become self-sufficient. Five years ago, all I would have seen is food. Now, I see the need for a movement of people who not only recognize available resources but also understand how they can contribute to their community.  

Navigating multiple identities often creates mental health challenges. What specific struggles arise from the intersection of culture, race, and gender, and how can they be addressed? 

Bukola Ojemakinde: One of the biggest challenges is suppression. Many Black immigrant women have grown up in cultures where men’s voices are prioritized, and there is an expectation to stay silent to avoid conflict. We have always been taught not to challenge authority. That mindset follows us at work, in healthcare, and in interactions with the justice system. Instead of addressing our struggles, we internalize them. 

For young Black girls, the challenge is even greater. They are trying to define themselves in a world that often does not see them fully. They might be experiencing racism at school, struggling with identity, or feeling pressure to meet expectations at home while trying to fit in with their peers. The weight of all these expectations makes it difficult for them to prioritize their mental well-being. 

There is also the challenge of stigma. In many communities, mental health is not something openly discussed. Seeking help can be seen as a sign of weakness, and many Black women and girls fear being judged if they speak up about their struggles. Instead of accessing care early, they wait until they are in crisis, or they never seek support at all. Without safe spaces to talk about these experiences, these struggles remain unspoken, and healing feels out of reach.

The pressure to be strong can have a significant impact on mental health. Why do you think women and girls feel compelled to suppress their struggles? 

Bukola Ojemakinde: It’s a survival mechanism. Many of us have grown up seeing that expressing emotions can be met with dismissal or even criticism. We learn to endure. But the problem is that this endurance comes at a cost. 

Black women and girls are often afraid of being labeled, whether as too emotional, too demanding, or too difficult. At work, you don’t want to be seen as a complainer. At school, you don’t want to stand out too much. These fears keep us from speaking up, even when we’re struggling. 

And then, there’s the fear of being ostracized. If you speak up about unfairness or mistreatment, there’s a chance you’ll be shut out of opportunities. So, we carry things internally. Sometimes, it’s not even about just enduring, it’s about not wanting to be relabeled, not wanting to be checked into a corner, put in a box. Because sometimes, if you are asking for more things at work, people see you as a complainer, too. 

Even within our own families and communities, we don’t always feel safe to speak openly. The idea of being strong is so ingrained that even when we know we need help, we don’t always seek it. That’s why there needs to be a different approach, one where mental health care is accessible and nonjudgmental, where women and girls feel safe to express themselves without fear of consequences. 

Accessing mental health care can be challenging for anyone, but Black immigrant women and girls often face additional barriers. What are the biggest obstacles preventing them from getting the support they need? 

Bukola Ojemakinde: Funding is one part of it, but honestly, I see an even bigger issue. Do we have enough Black social workers, therapists, and psychologists? People want culturally appropriate care, but are the services available? And if they are, do they speak the languages our communities need? Without representation in the mental health field, many Black women and girls hesitate to seek support because they don’t see providers who understand their experiences. 

Another challenge is the way mental health services are delivered. The system is often rigid, designed around clinical settings that may not feel welcoming or accessible. Many Black immigrant women and girls want support that feels more familiar, such as speaking with someone who understands their background or accessing services available in multiple languages. However, when mental health care is difficult to navigate or expensive, especially as they work to establish themselves in a new country, or when it is not offered in accessible formats, many are discouraged from seeking the support they need. 

That’s what we’re trying to change with HerConnect, a free 24/7 mental health program for Black women and girls in Calgary. HerConnect provides non-judgmental and confidential support at no cost, ensuring that youth, adults, and seniors can access licensed therapists whenever they need help. Support is available around the clock through call, text, and online platforms, eliminating financial and structural barriers that often keep Black women from seeking care. 

The goal is to make mental health care something that feels reachable, something that Black women and girls feel empowered to engage with rather than something distant or difficult to access. By ensuring continuous availability and culturally competent care, HerConnect is creating a pathway for more women and girls in Calgary to receive support on their own terms without shame or judgment. 

Informal support networks play a crucial role in mental health. How can we strengthen these networks to ensure they provide meaningful support? 

Bukola Ojemakinde: Informal therapy is just as important as formal therapy, if not more so in some cases. Many Black women and girls naturally turn to people they trust, mothers, hairdressers, mentors, when they need support. But the challenge is, do these trusted figures have the tools to help effectively? 

One of the biggest gaps is education and awareness. If a Black woman confides in a friend about struggling with depression, that friend might not recognize the signs or know how to guide her toward the right resources. We need to equip our communities with basic mental health literacy so they can provide emotional support while also helping direct people toward professional care when needed. 

The reality is that many Black women feel more comfortable opening up in familiar spaces rather than seeking traditional therapy. But without the right knowledge, these conversations can become spaces of shared struggle rather than solutions. We don’t want people to feel like they have to carry everything alone. Instead, we should be empowering them with the language and tools to recognize when someone needs more specialized help. 

That’s why we’ve tried things like Instagram Live conversations to make mental health discussions more accessible. We need more of that, more spaces where people can talk about their experiences without feeling like they’re entering a clinical setting. Mental health support should meet people where they are, not the other way around. 

We have to normalize these discussions. If people only hear about mental health in crisis situations, they won’t feel comfortable engaging when they need early support. But if conversations are happening in everyday life, at the salon, in faith communities, in mentorship programs, then seeking help becomes part of the culture rather than something unusual or shameful. 

When designing mental health programs for Black immigrant women and girls, what are some key considerations that could make these programs more effective? 

Bukola Ojemakinde: People do not want a generalized approach to mental health support. Someone might say, “I need help, but can you provide it in my home?” Another might ask, “Why not offer it while I’m on the train?” or “Can you deliver it in the five languages I speak?” Then there is the person who says, “I need this for my mother, but she only speaks one language that I don’t understand.” There is a huge demand for services that are flexible and designed around people’s real lives, and meeting those needs requires creativity​. 

Another key factor is ensuring that Black professionals are present at all levels, not just as therapists, but as decision-makers and program designers. If mental health programs are being built for Black communities, then Black voices must be included in shaping them. Leadership roles should reflect the communities being served, ensuring that initiatives are not just well-intentioned, but effective. 

Funding structures also play a major role in how programs are implemented. Funders often prioritize numbers, how many people a program serves, over depth of impact. But sometimes serving 200 people really well, in the way they need, is more effective than reaching 500 in a way that does not work for them. Many funding models do not account for this, forcing organizations to constantly justify their value based on metrics that do not reflect real community needs​. 

We also need stronger inter-organizational collaboration. Many groups are doing critical mental health work, but they operate in silos. More partnerships between nonprofits, healthcare institutions, and community-based organizations can help bridge service gaps, making support systems more holistic and accessible​. 

As conversations around Black mental health continue to grow, what shifts or initiatives give you the most hope for lasting change? 

Bukola Ojemakinde: I’m beginning to see growth. More people are speaking honestly about their mental health, opening up in ways they didn’t before. Instead of always saying, “I’m fine,” people are expressing when they’re tired, when they’re struggling, when they need support​. 

Another shift is the increasing effort to build partnerships. While many organizations have traditionally worked on their own, there is now a stronger push toward collaboration. More groups are coming together to support Black mental health, and we’re seeing partnerships with churches, shelters, and community organizations that make mental health care more accessible in ways that reflect the realities of the people who need it.  

Funding structures are also improving. There’s more emphasis on learning from existing resources rather than starting from scratch. There are non-Black organizations that have been doing mental health work for decades, and rather than trying to build everything from the ground up, we can learn from them, take what works, and tailor it to meet the specific needs of Black communities. This approach helps build stronger programs and creates more opportunities for long-term, sustainable funding rather than just short-term fixes​. 

There’s still work to do, but every time someone reaches out for help, every time a new initiative is launched, and every time we challenge the stigma around mental health, we’re making progress. Change doesn’t happen all at once, it happens in these small moments, and those moments are adding up to something bigger. 

If you want to learn more about the work Bukola Ojemakinde is doing through her organizations, you can explore Ladies in the Family Foundation and Bridge to Oasis or reach her at  [email protected] or [email protected].  

Additionally, if you or anyone you know in Calgary requires the services of HerConnect, a 24/7 mental health support program, please visit their website for more information. 

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the interviewee(s) and do not necessarily reflect the position of the Network for the Advancement of Black Communities (NABC). NABC is committed to providing a platform for diverse voices across the Black community sector and sharing stories that deepen understanding.