Parliament recently revisited the long-delayed Mental Health Bill. The minister of Health and Social Services, Dr Esperance Luvindao, confirmed that the bill is in its final stages of review and will soon be resubmitted to legal drafters. This comes after years of delays in replacing the outdated Mental Health Act of 1973, a law that no longer reflects the realities of modern mental health care in Namibia.
News outlets earlier in the week reported that employers would no longer be able to discriminate against mentally ill people; of course, that caused an uproar. While the discussion may seem technical or bureaucratic, the issue itself is far more personal. It is not just about what happens in Parliament or in hospitals. It is about how we, as a society, understand and respond to mental health.
For many Namibians, mental health is still viewed through a narrow and outdated lens. When people hear the term, they often imagine someone acting out, wandering the streets, or “losing their mind”. That image has shaped public perception for decades. It is why when someone says they are struggling mentally, people tend to look at them strangely, as if to say, “But you look fine.” This way of thinking has made invisible struggles even harder to acknowledge. Mental health is not always loud or obvious. More often than not, it is quiet and hidden.
It can look like a young woman who can’t get out of bed because anxiety has drained her energy. It can look like a student checking the lock ten times before leaving the house because OCD convinces them something bad might happen. It can look like a young man laughing with his friends but fighting a fog of depression every night.
The existing law, passed in 1973, was written in a different era when mental illness was almost entirely associated with institutionalisation. It was not designed to deal with anxiety disorders, depression, trauma, eating disorders, OCD, or any of the more complex mental health conditions that are common today.
Over the years, this legal framework helped cement a one-dimensional view. If someone is functioning, going to work, studying, and smiling in photos, then people assume nothing is wrong. That assumption is harmful because it silences those who are struggling quietly and pushes them into isolation.
Mental health challenges are not always dramatic. Sometimes they look like sleepless nights, overthinking, constant worry, or avoiding people because social interaction feels overwhelming.
They are often hidden behind good grades, promotions at work, or well-curated social media posts. Because these signs do not fit the typical image of mental illness, many dismiss them. “You’re just stressed.” “Pray about it.” “Relax.” But telling someone with anxiety to relax is the same as telling someone with a broken leg to walk.
The introduction of the new Mental Health Bill is a step toward modernising how the country approaches this issue. It aims to shift the focus away from institutional care and toward protecting people’s rights, making support more accessible, and recognising that mental health is part of everyday life. This change in policy is necessary, but it will not achieve much if society’s attitudes do not change with it. Mental health cannot remain something that is only addressed once it reaches a crisis. It is not only the responsibility of hospitals or mental health professionals. It is also about schools, workplaces, communities, and families creating spaces where people can ask for help without being judged.
Young Namibians, in particular, are carrying a heavy mental health burden. Economic uncertainty, unemployment, family pressure, academic stress, and personal struggles build up. With limited support structures, many are left to deal with these pressures alone.
Some turn to unhealthy coping mechanisms, while others simply stay silent. Too often, real conversations about mental health only start after a tragedy has occurred.
If we want meaningful change, we need to normalise talking about mental health the same way we talk about physical health. We need to remove the shame that surrounds the subject. We need to stop using words like “mad” or “weak” and start listening to one another with empathy. The bill can provide a legal foundation, but its impact will depend on whether we, as a society, change how we think and talk about mental health.
Mental health is not always visible. It does not always look like someone “losing their mind”.
Sometimes it looks like someone who seems fine on the outside but is struggling on the inside. The parliamentary debate may seem distant, but the issue is personal and close to home.
The new Mental Health Bill gives Namibia a chance to match its laws with reality. What happens next will depend on how willing we are to confront our outdated perceptions and create a culture that values mental health as much as physical health. Real change will not come from Parliament alone. It will start in our homes, in schools, workplaces, and everyday conversations. Mental health is not a shame. It is part of being human.
