The news of Naomi Judd’s suicide literally caught my breath.
I paused and reread my message alert. The report seemed inscrutable.
I love The Judds, as Naomi and Wynonna’s mother-daughter duo were called.
I grew up in Phoenix in the ’90s, and back then it was almost impossible to live in that part of the country and not love her.
They were two of the most famous country singers of a generation.
During their career they had 20 top 10 hits, including 15 number one hits.
They won five Grammys, and Naomi won Country Song of the Year for writing “Love Can Build a Bridge.”
They are ubiquitous in all things female in modern country music and arguably as influential as Loretta Lynne, Dolly Parton and Miranda Lambert.
Naomi, in particular, went beyond country music by hosting her own morning show on the Hallmark channel and a revamped Star Search.
She wrote popular self-help books and achieved some notable success in acting.
But Naomi and the Judd family were and still are iconic not only for their music and careers, but for the way they allowed America to witness their struggles.
We’ve seen everything from her family complications and personal life dramas to struggles with weight and mental health issues.
A quintessential American, Naomi was an integral part of Southern and country music history.
The news of Naomi Judd’s suicide literally caught my breath. (Top) Naomi Judd performs at the CMA Music Festival on Saturday June 13, 2009 in Nashville, Tennessee
Naomi was scheduled to be inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame with her daughter Wynona the day after her suicide, adding another deep note of tragedy to her death. (Above) Wynonna Judd, second from right, stands in Nashville, Tennessee on Sunday May 1, 2022.
Pulling herself up by her boots almost literally, she worked as a waitress and then a nurse while trying to launch her music career.
She was a self-proclaimed “single, struggling working mom” who got her break while treating a patient who was also the daughter of an RCA Records executive.
All of this made the news of her suicide so harrowing and, sadly, shockingly relatable.
May is Mental Health Awareness Month, a time when millions of Americans wear green ribbons to destigmatize mental illness and support those living with and struggling with the disease.
It is also time to advocate for public action that helps people with mental health problems and their families.
This has long been an extremely important issue, but it is perhaps even more critical now than ever.
Naomi’s daughter, famous actress Ashley Judd, did a heartbreaking interview with Diane Sawyer this week.
For the first time, Ashley revealed that her mother died by shooting herself with a gun in her bedroom while Ashley was downstairs letting a friend in through her back door.
It really is every daughter’s worst nightmare.
The pain in Ashley’s voice and the visible agony on her face is palpable, her stomach is ripping and the interview is hard to get through.
Naomi was scheduled to be inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame with her daughter Wynona the day after her suicide, adding another deep note of tragedy to her death.
She wasn’t even able to celebrate the achievements of her life among her peers because she felt there was nothing left to live.
I don’t pretend to understand what makes someone feel like there is no way out of the pain they are experiencing. It is one of humanity’s greatest tragedies.
But for some reason, it’s particularly tragic when an American icon reaches that depth of despair.
It focuses on the silent pain Naomi must have experienced despite being a beloved entertainer, with beautiful, successful daughters, a legion of devoted fans, and resources to help her battle her illness.
None of that was enough.
The Judds are ubiquitous in all things female in modern country music, and are arguably as influential as Loretta Lynne, Dolly Parton and Miranda Lambert. (Above) Dolly Parton (center) with Wynonna (left) and Naomi Judd (right)
And now in death, she’s done in life, Naomi Judd has shed light on an American story.
Post-pandemic America is mired in a mental health crisis. It’s a strange, uncomfortable and scary place.
There was a general belief that when fears about COVID subsided and we entered a post-Trump presidency, we would find ourselves across the street, so to speak.
Instead, there’s a lingering underlying sense of fog and uneasiness.
We are on the brink of a possible global war with Russia, inflation has made paychecks less valuable, and a trip to the grocery store or gas station is relatively more expensive than it has been in decades.
There is an infant formula shortage and the collective response from Capitol Hill appears to be that this is an emergency that can somehow wait, despite parents fearing that they will not be able to feed their newborns.
There’s not much optimism about the future, so it’s perhaps no surprise that over 16.1 million Americans have major depression.
The Kaiser Family Foundation reports that Americans reporting symptoms of depression and anxiety have increased from 11 percent in 2019 to 41 percent in 2021.
The nation is also experiencing a spate of drug abuse deaths.
Drug overdose deaths hit 100,000 last year in 2021 for the first time in a single year, much of which is said to be due to the spread of fentanyl. But since 2000, a million Americans have died from overdoses.
These deaths of desperation are overwhelming and need to be addressed.
I believe this crisis poses an even greater existential threat to our society than terrorism, a struggling economy or climate change combined.
Mental illness can be as serious as terminal cancer, and we need leadership in the public health space, in the political space, and in the cultural space that understands this reality. (Above) Naomi Judd with daughters Ashley (left) and Wynonna (right)
We need to start treating mental health with the same all-man-on-deck response that we brought to the Covid pandemic and other major health crises.
But for some reason we don’t.
There’s still a lot of stigma, misunderstanding, and a general feeling that mental illness, because it doesn’t necessarily show up on the surface, is a different kind of illness.
It’s a lie.
Mental illness can be as serious as terminal cancer, and we need leadership in the public health space, in the political space, and in the cultural space that understands this reality.
I would like to offer my condolences to the Judd family. I can’t understand her pain.
We can and must do better as a nation to stop losing innocent victims to mental illness, the horrors of suicide, and deaths of despair.
If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts or mental health issues, please call the National Suicide Hotline, which is available 24 hours a day: 800-273-8255