By: Donia Chavis

On the morning of August 21, 2025, Los Angeles police responded to a disturbance call in a quiet suburban neighborhood. According to reports, officers encountered rapper Lil Nas X walking in his underwear and cowboy boots, behaving erratically. Instead of sending medical help, the police assumed drug use and arrested him. But his father later clarified that the 25-year-old artist was experiencing a mental health crisis due to the crushing pressures of fame and public scrutiny.

This incident isn’t just about celebrity behavior. It’s a deeply revealing moment that highlights how racism, homophobia, and mental health stigma collide — and criminalize — vulnerable Black queer individuals in America. When Lil Nas X needed care, what he got was profiling, arrest, and viral mockery.

A Crisis Goes Viral

Lil Nas X later called the ordeal “terrifying” in a video message to fans. Though he is now recovering, the moment sparked a fierce debate: why is it that when Black queer men experience public breakdowns, the first response is punishment?

Despite showing no signs of violence, he was arrested and later faced criminal charges. Advocates say this reflects a larger pattern. Studies confirm that Black men are more likely than white men to be arrested during a mental health crisis, even when exhibiting identical behaviors (Madin America). And when sexual orientation is factored in, the situation worsens.

A Rutgers study found that 43% of Black sexual minority men experienced police discrimination in the past year, leading to elevated psychological distress and reduced trust in healthcare providers (Rutgers University). That mistrust, in turn, keeps people from seeking help early — creating a cycle of silence, suffering, and punishment.

When Mental Illness Meets Bias

The police encounter wasn’t violent in the way some interactions are — but it was revealing. Instead of sending a mental health response team, officers treated Lil Nas X as a threat. The assumption of drug use, the handcuffing, the decision to arrest rather than assist — all of this shows how bias can escalate nonviolent situations.

This isn’t new. In 2019, Elijah McClain, a 23-year-old Black man with anxiety, was walking home when police stopped him. He was injected with ketamine by paramedics and later died. In 2020, Tony McDade, a Black trans man, was fatally shot by police in Florida just days after expressing suicidal thoughts online.

These cases show how quickly vulnerability is met with violence — or indifference — when you’re both Black and queer.

Mockery, Memes, and Missed Opportunities

Social media made things worse. Instead of offering support, users turned the moment into a circus. Videos of Lil Nas X walking confused and half-dressed went viral. Some TikTok users filmed him as if it were a skit. On Reddit, one commenter wrote:

“The fact that ppl saw Lil Nas X high as a kite in the middle of LA in his underwear & tried to make TikTok videos with him instead of calling for help…”

One user on X criticized the callousness:

“A Black gay man had a mental health crisis which strangers filmed … then he wound up in jail … I genuinely hope all the people who saw that video … feel deeply ashamed” (Metro Weekly).

At the same time, others defended him passionately — calling out the lack of empathy and drawing attention to the racism and homophobia embedded in how the public reacted. The divide shows a troubling truth: online, compassion competes with cruelty — and cruelty often wins.

This Is Bigger Than One Celebrity

The stigma around mental health in Black and LGBTQ+ communities is already severe. Admitting to depression, anxiety, or a psychotic episode still carries shame. And when a public figure like Lil Nas X becomes the butt of a joke for seeking help — the consequences ripple outward.

“The long-term effects are devastating: people who see themselves reflected in Lil Nas X may avoid asking for help, fearing that they too will be mocked, mislabeled, or even arrested.”

This fear isn’t theoretical. A 2023 report from the Trevor Project found that Black LGBTQ+ youth were significantly less likely to seek help for mental health issues than their white peers, citing mistrust of institutions and fear of being misunderstood or criminalized.

We can’t let moments like this pass without recognizing the broader harm — and the systemic issues beneath them.

What We Can Do at HFU

This conversation doesn’t end in Los Angeles. It matters at Holy Family University, too. Students here — especially Black, queer, or otherwise marginalized students — are watching. They’re listening to how we respond. Are we showing empathy? Are we prepared to support them if they reach a breaking point? “I think the Holy Family community could do a lot better… there’s some training on how to help students with mental health but I don’t think it’s really done through a lens of the person’s identity,” stated by Dr. Dana McClain, associate professor of English at Holy Family University.  

We need reforms on every level — but especially where we live and study. That includes:

Increasing visibility for HFU’s counseling services and creating safer, more culturally competent mental health spaces.

Hosting intersectionality workshops that discuss how race, sexuality, and mental health overlap.

Training student leaders and faculty to recognize signs of crisis and respond with care.

Advocating for community crisis teams over police intervention in nonviolent mental health calls.

We also need to name the issue clearly: this is about intersectionality — a term coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw — which describes how different forms of discrimination (racism, homophobia, ableism) interact and compound. Lil Nas X’s situation shows us what that looks like in real life.

 Final Thoughts: Refuse to Look Away

Lil Nas X’s arrest is not just another tabloid moment. It’s a wake-up call. One that asks us to reexamine how we treat people at their most vulnerable — especially those who already carry the weight of racial and sexual bias.

As an institution dedicated to shaping future leaders, Holy Family University has a unique responsibility to lead by example when it comes to compassion and mental health awareness. Our campus community cannot afford to be passive in the face of societal injustice. We are not just preparing students for professional careers; we are shaping the leaders of tomorrow, individuals who will influence their communities and the world. We must stand together to ensure that mental illness is not treated as a crime, especially for those already marginalized by race, sexuality, and identity. What we owe each other right now is compassion, advocacy, and a refusal to let someone’s suffering become a spectacle.

Let’s not wait for the next headline to start caring. As Carolina Madrid, a junior English major here at Holy Family, powerfully stated during our interview: “We’re people. We’re supposed to care about other people.”