May is Mental Health Awareness Month. And there is no better way to begin this conversation than with a woman who has spent 34 years learning how to have it.

Gabrielle Union sat down this week with Lashauna Cutts, a senior clinical director and trauma therapist at Nema Health, for what became one of the most candid public conversations about sexual trauma, PTSD, and motherhood that any public figure has offered in recent memory. What she described was not an abstract discussion about mental health awareness. It was a specific, detailed, and deeply personal account of how the trauma she experienced at 19 years old followed her into her home, into her marriage, and into the backyard where her seven-year-old daughter Kaavia plays.

The moment that will stay with anyone who watches the full interview is almost unbearable in its simplicity. Union described standing in her own backyard, behind armed security, watching Kaavia do cartwheels. And being unable to enjoy it. Because her mind was somewhere else entirely, running through every possible scenario in which something terrible could happen. Not because the threat was real. Because her nervous system, after 34 years of carrying the weight of what happened to her, could not tell the difference.

Union was sexually assaulted at gunpoint at 19 while working a summer job at a Payless shoe store during her time at UCLA. She began therapy three days later. She has continued therapy, in various forms, for over three decades. She has spoken publicly about it before, including in her memoir and in social media posts that have reached millions of people. But what makes this particular conversation different is the specificity of what she is naming: the way trauma does not just affect the person who carries it. It reshapes the entire atmosphere of a home, a marriage, a family.

Union wrote in an Instagram post accompanying the interview that she has lived with PTSD for 34 years and that even after doing everything she was supposed to do, all the therapy, year after year, recovery still felt out of reach. What she did not know, and what she says most people do not know, is that there are treatments designed specifically for trauma that go beyond traditional talk therapy. She credits the work she began in October through Nema Health with finally allowing her to be present. To actually hear what Kaavia is saying. To watch the cartwheels without the fear.

What Union is describing is not unique to her. It is the experience of millions of women, and disproportionately Black women, who carry trauma while simultaneously being expected to function at the highest possible level. The pressure of the "strong Black woman" narrative makes it even harder. There is an expectation that you survive, that you keep going, that you do not let it show. Union did all of that. For 34 years. And she is now saying, publicly, that survival alone was never enough.

The timing of this conversation matters. April was Sexual Assault Awareness Month, and May is Mental Health Awareness Month. Union is bridging both by telling a story that lives at the intersection of sexual violence, mental health, motherhood, and the systemic barriers that prevent Black women from accessing the specific care they need. According to RAINN, Black women face disproportionate rates of sexual violence, and the gap between experiencing trauma and receiving specialized treatment remains wider for Black women than for nearly any other demographic in the United States.

Union said the therapy has created a peace in their home and in her marriage that everyone in the family is appreciative of. She acknowledged that she was not fully aware of the heaviness that existed in their house until it began to lift. That kind of honesty, from someone with her platform, does more for mental health awareness than any campaign or hashtag ever could.

What Gabrielle Union is offering is not just her story. It is permission. Permission to admit that the therapy you have been doing might not be enough. Permission to look for something more specific. Permission to say that surviving is not the same as healing, and that healing, even after 34 years, is still possible.

She can watch the cartwheels now. That sentence sounds simple. It is not. It is the result of 34 years of work, and it is one of the most important things a public figure has said about mental health all year.

If you or someone you know has experienced sexual assault, support is available through RAINN. You can reach the National Sexual Assault Hotline at 800-656-HOPE (4673) or chat online at rainn.org for confidential, 24/7 support. For culturally competent care and resources, visit Therapy for Black Girls at therapyforblackgirls.com.