FAQ Difficult Questions Answered - Stigma

Answering Difficult Questions - Stigma

STIGMA! It's a topic that can leave us scratching our heads and wondering if we've gotten it right. If you’re here reading this, we think you're trying to understand what the buzz around stigma is all about. How does it affect people dealing with substance use challenges? Maybe you are even asking if your words and beliefs are hurting people. Let's dive in together and explore what stigma really means and why it matters.

Pretty much most of us have been conditioned to view substance use as a moral failing or criminal behaviour rather than recognizing the underlying causes and treating it as a health challenge. What if it’s not what we think it is? What if people struggling with addiction deserve our compassion and support, not judgment and shame, (also called STIGMA)? Thankfully these outdated notions are changing. Wouldn’t it be cool if you had the latest knowledge on stigma? That would make you the go-to person in discussions. You’d also be able to use words and actions that others would see and follow.

Join us in this FAQ. We’ll paint stories and metaphors to bring alive the destruction stigma causes.

Let's delve deeper into the reasons behind the stigma and explore ways to challenge it. Together, we can shift the narrative and create a more inclusive, empathetic place where people feel safe enough to reach out for help.

1.    My friend said I was “shaming” because I called some homeless guy a “junkie”. I called it the way I see it, am I wrong? What the heck is stigma? Anyway, if I get the idea of stigma right, isn’t my friend stigmatising me?

Stigma—it’s a word that packs a punch, We’re guessing when you spotted this fellow, his clothes were tattered, and he looked dirty, unkept, and probably clutching a worn-out backpack that held all his worldly possessions. You thought, “Ah, there’s a junkie.” And just like that, the word popped out of your mouth and you’d dipped your brush in the ink of stigma.

Stigma isn’t just a fancy term; it’s a powerful force that shapes how we see the world. It’s like a pair of tinted glasses—once you put them on, everything looks different. But what exactly is it? Stigma is that invisible label we slap on people or groups based on something they can’t control—like their appearance, their circumstances, or their struggles. It’s like a sticky note that says, “Handle with care: this person is defective.”

From your friend's perspective, using that derogatory term sends the message that you look down on that man’s circumstance and see substance disorders as a moral failing rather than the health disorder it truly is. Your friend probably could have taken a more positive approach, so you do make a fair point - calling you out on "shaming" could be viewed as stigma too and you probably felt personally insulted. We’re guessing it stung a bit and didn’t make you feel good when you heard him say that. Let's just say that both of you have the opportunity to embrace more positive perspectives on stereotyping.

Now, let’s rewind to that homeless man. When you called him a “junkie”, you weren’t just describing what you saw. You were attaching a whole bunch of assumptions to him: “He’s dangerous. He’s a lost cause. He’s not worth my empathy.” That’s stigma in action.

Here’s the twist: stigma isn’t just about the words we use. It’s about the stories we tell ourselves—the narratives that shape our perceptions. When we label someone, we’re not just slapping a tag on them; we’re writing their story in permanent ink.

So, are you wrong for calling it the way you see it? Well, let’s flip the script. Imagine you’re the one on that sidewalk, battling demons you can’t even name. Would you want someone to slap a label on you? Probably not.

Stigma isn’t just about being politically correct; it’s about being human. It’s about seeing beyond the surface, beyond the cardboard sign or the needle marks. It’s about recognizing that everyone has a story—a messy, and sometimes, heartbreaking story.

So, my friend, let’s rewrite the narrative. Instead of “junkie,” let’s try “someone struggling.” Instead of judgment, let’s offer a hand. And as for your friend? Well, maybe they’re nudging you toward empathy, reminding you that no one part of a person’s story defines who they are.

2.    It seems that people who use drugs get more than their fair share of stigma. Why are they so looked down upon?

You’re right; Stigma is the silent villain that tiptoes into our minds and whispers judgment. - people who use drugs often bear the weight of more than their fair share. But why? Let’s unravel this tangled thread.

The unfortunate reality is that the stigma surrounding substance use is deeply ingrained in our culture, and passed down over generations. We've been conditioned to view it as a moral failing or criminal behaviour rather than recognizing the complex array of factors that lead to addiction.

The Myth of Choice: Imagine life as a menu. Some folks order the salad, others the burger. But when it comes to drugs, society often points a finger and says, “You chose the wrong dish!” Here’s the twist: addiction isn’t a la carte. It’s more like a storm that sweeps you off your feet, leaving you clinging to wreckage. So, when we see someone struggling, let’s remember: they didn’t pick this storm.

The Hollywood Lens: You’ve probably seen this picture - dimly lit alley, rain-soaked junkie, needle in hand. Hollywood loves this scene. But reality? It’s a kaleidoscope. People who use drugs aren’t all shadows; they’re teachers, artists, parents, husbands, fathers, wives, and sisters. They’re the mosaic of humanity, with stories etched in their veins. So why the stereotype? Because it’s easier to slap a label than to see the whole canvas.

Fear and the Unknown: Frankly, we fear what we don’t understand. Drugs and/or mental illness? They’re like a foreign language—scary syllables we can’t decipher. So, we retreat, build walls, and call it “otherness.” Here’s the secret: knowledge dismantles fear. When we learn about addiction or mental health —its roots, its struggles—we replace judgment with empathy. Suddenly, that “other” becomes a fellow traveller on the life journey we’re all on. Maybe we can help them find an easier path.

The Blame Game: They did it to themselves!” You sure hear that a lot when it comes to people who end up with addiction. No matter how many times we scream in the wind that very few people choose this path, it seems people want to blame. That makes it easier to turn away and see them as less human than we are. However, we can trade blame for compassion. Because when we point fingers, we miss the bigger picture—that fragile human soul teetering on the edge of a pathway to destruction.

The Ripple Effect: Stigma isn’t a solo act; it’s a symphony. When we stigmatize, it echoes through families, workplaces, and communities. Jobs lost, relationships strained, hearts broken. And guess what? We all pay the price. So, next time you see someone battling their demons, remember: that kindness ripples too. A smile, a nod—it’s like tossing a pebble into a pond. Watch those kindness ripples spread.

3.   Someone told me that stigma makes it harder for people to get help and avoid overdoses. Is that True?

You got that right! Stigma is like a bully blocking the door to help. Imagine someone struggling to swim against a strong current. They're desperate for help, but a shrill, mean voice keeps yelling, "You shouldn't be in the water in the first place! Look at how you messed things up!" “You are stupid and worthless.” That voice is stigma. Most people who have addiction hear that voice loud and clear in their own heads – when others join in, well, that’s a gang of bullies. Nobody likes bullies.

Self-stigma is bad enough, but when others stigmatize, well, it makes people who use drugs feel judged and ashamed, which stops them from reaching out for treatment. This is a huge problem because, without help, the current will drown them.

Think about it: if someone's diabetic, we wouldn't yell at them for needing insulin, right? We'd help them get the shot they need. Addiction is a medical disorder too, and treatment is the medicine.

The Masked Anti-Hero: Picture this: someone battling addiction, wearing a mask. Not the superhero kind—the kind that hides scars and secrets like the Phantom of the Opera. They tiptoe through life, avoiding judgment’s spotlight. Why? Because of stigma. It’s a spotlight that burns. So, they use substances alone, preferring to live in their own darkness, than to be subject to humiliation and ridicule. Using alone is a sure-fire recipe for irreversible overdose.

4.  What about words? What is this thing I hear about using person-first language and why is it important?

Ah, words—the architects of our perceptions. The words we use create biases and beliefs which become the Language Trap:

Sadly, language shapes reality. When we label, we lock doors. “Addict”? It’s a cell with no windows. “Crackhead, unclean, user, junkie, crazy" – all words designed to hurt and make it easier to make them untouchable. So, when people who have substance or mental health disorders hear these terms, they avoid seeking help, fearing the judgment that echoes in those hurtful words.

Imagine language as a bridge. On one side, there’s “They” land—the place where labels echo like distant thunder. On the other side? “We” land—the realm of empathy, where people support each other. And right in the middle of that bridge stands a sign: “Inclusive Language Ahead.” The more of us who cross the bridge, the sooner people suffering will feel safe enough to reach out for help.

Person-first language? It’s like a secret handshake—a way to say, “Hey, I see you. You’re not just a label, statistic or headline. You’re a person.” But why does it matter?

The Stigma Slayer: Picture a dragon—stigma—breathing fire on those who use drugs. But person-first language? It’s a sword. When we say, “Jim is a person struggling with substance disorder,” we slay that dragon. Because stigma thrives on distance. It whispers, “They’re different” “They scare us.” But “person-first words”? It’s the beginning of changing the story not only for people fighting with addictions but for all of us. Suddenly, the dragon’s flames flicker out. That’s the power of good, kind words.

5.  What has stigma got to do with working men (silent majority)? I thought drug addicts were all homeless and those people we see on our streets.

You get right to the heart of stigma with this question. The vast majority of overdose deaths are men in single-family homes, between 25 and 55. They use substances alone because they fear the consequences. Lost jobs, and then can’t feed their families or pay the mortgage. Often, not even their wives know. Using drugs alone is the single greatest risk factor of death from an overdose.

Working men, they’re the unsung symphony—the ones who rise with the sun, tie their shoelaces, and march into the world’s hustle. They’re not just cogs in the machine; they’re fathers, brothers, friends. But here’s the twist: stigma doesn’t care about résumés. It’s an equal-opportunity whisperer. Frankly, it impacts these men the most because they have the most to lose. Family men, blue collar or white collar. Stigma doesn’t discriminate.

The Invisible Struggle: Picture a construction site. Hard hats, steel beams, sweat or an office building, retail store or law office. These men? They’re the architects of our cities. But when the sun sets, some wear more than just tool belts or their white shirts and ties. They carry secrets—substances that numb the edges of life. Why? Maybe it’s stress, pain, or the ghosts of old wounds. But they don’t wear neon signs that say, “I’m struggling.” So, they swallow it down, alone.

The Myth of the Sidewalk Junkie: Hollywood loves this script: dimly lit alley, rain-soaked junkie, needle in hand. But reality? People who use drugs aren’t all shadows; they’re the guy next door, the one who nods at you in the elevator. They’re the silent majority—the ones who don’t scream their struggles from rooftops. So, why the stereotype? Because it’s easier to see addiction in cardboard signs than in boardrooms.

Stigma is louder than cannons. It drowns out cries for help. These men? They don’t want pity; they want understanding. They want a lifeline that doesn’t come with judgment.

The Silent Majority’s Battle: At dawn, they tie their shoelaces. At dusk, they untie their secrets. Alone. Because of stigma. It’s the locked door to help. It says, “Don’t tell anyone”, “You’re weak.” But weakness? It’s not in their veins; it’s in our perceptions of people who use substances. To reach out, these men need to feel safe. That starts by not heaping judgment or stigma on them. Let’s be the bridge from “them” to “us” and the help they need.

At its core, adopting person-first language represents a profound shift in how we view people with substance disorders as a society. It reframes the narrative from shutting people out and asserting moral judgments to extending empathy, human dignity, and recognizing shared struggles that everyone faces. The path to finally turning the tide on this crisis relies on replacing stigma with empathy, fear with compassion, and marginalization with connection.

By leading with language that separates human identity from health condition, we tear down the very stigmas that have perpetuated suffering for far too long. Every person battling substance use deserves to have their inherent worth and potential for recovery acknowledged first - that's the life-affirming power of person-first discussion. As we strive to destigmatize addiction, the words we choose paint the vision for how we will build more ethical, effective systems of care and acceptance. It starts with something as simple, yet impactful, as "a person with a substance use disorder."

Check out Part 1 on General FAQs on the Overdose Crisis or Part 2 on FAQ on Harm Reduction