City of Win is a series curated by Isiah “ThoughtPoet” Veney and written by Alejandro Hernandez that uses prose and photography to create portraits of Chicago musicians and cultural innovators working to create positive change in their communities.
“I got all these friends but I still feel alone, imagine that,” says CantBuyDeem. These are the first words in Reality Raps, a short film created by and starring the multidisciplinary south-side artist. He’s a rapper, a model, a graphic designer, and now a filmmaker.
Reality Raps, like the album of the same name that Deem released in April, was inspired by his personal mental-health journey and his experience with going to therapy. He premiered the film at the Logan Theatre on May 24 for a packed room of friends, family, and strangers. Prior to the screening, stand-up comedians warmed up the audience (laughter is the best medicine, after all), and local artist and organizer Jiggy Bars gave a brief musical performance. He ended his set by telling the crowd to give Deem a round of applause for doing something special: “We need more Black men talking about mental health.”
Like any such journey, Deem’s wasn’t an easy one. “I had a really traumatic life growing up, and as I got older I realized just how traumatic it was,” he says. “I have a lot of other people in my life. I know that they need it. And you know, n***as will call me and tell me all their problems for 45 minutes and get mad at me for not wanting to listen but won’t go to therapy. So I’m like, let me try to make a piece of art that can resonate with these individuals. . . . That was the inspiration to tell my truth and relate to people in the same situation who might have needed that extra push or see someone like them to be able to also try therapy.”
CantBuyDeem released the album Reality Raps in April, a month or so before he premiered the short film of the same name.
According to a recent study published by Statista, in 2021 only 12.1 percent of men in the U.S. had sought out mental health treatment or counseling in the preceding year. Men are much less likely than women to go to therapy, and the numbers tend to be even lower among men of color. Patriarchal societies define masculinity by strength, and asking for help or showing emotion is perceived as weakness.
Deem says the catalyst that pushed him to finally seek help arrived in 2016, after the passing of his mother. He’d had to spend all the money he’d saved to start a business in order to cover her funeral costs, and he fell into a spiral.
“I started to pacify myself with people and substances,” he laments. “I was just trying to get as many girls as I can in my phone and just putting everything that I shouldn’t be putting in my body all the time, and I wasn’t feeling good. I felt like I needed to make a change.”
That began with what you might call self-care. “I started working out and staying in the house a little more and meditating and eating better,” Deem says. “And then eventually I got to therapy.”
He also reinforced his new holistic lifestyle by practicing acts of kindness and surrounding himself with like-minded people who were trying to make a change for the better. Becoming a father also helped him mature, and he says his daughter is old enough now to point out his bad behavior to him. This has motivated him to reflect on himself and work to be the best role model he can for her.
In the last scenes of Reality Raps, Deem declines an invitation to go out in order spend time with his daughter. He says that now he’s in a clearer headspace, and while he still experiences moments of depression or emotional outbursts, he’s better able to process those feelings in a healthy, efficient way.
Deem says he can “have conversations about mental health and therapy with women of all races, all financial backgrounds,” but when he addresses those subjects with men, the tone changes.
“When I bring it up to men, it’s like, ‘Get out of here,’ like, ‘I don’t want to hear that,’” he reflects. “Even dudes that aren’t in the streets, we’re all still raised on the street culture because we live in the hood. I’m the black sheep in a lot of situations, so the stigmas that come with it are like, ‘This guy is weak.’ Or just for lack of a better term, flat-out saying, ‘This n***a p***y going somewhere, crying to somebody every week about his problems.’”
True strength, though, comes from humility and knowing when to seek help. Deem often expresses that raw vulnerability in his art, describing it as the “ugly truth.” He says he doesn’t fit into a single mold or genre because he expresses himself according to what he’s experiencing at that specific time and place. He starts off the album version of Reality Raps—which includes skits of Deem in a therapy session—exuding braggadocious confidence over hard trap beats, yet by the end he’s expressing his most vulnerable self over slower, more melodic instrumentals. He hopes that what audiences take away from his music are the core themes of love of self and others—as opposed to seeking the kind of instant gratification that comes from having money. That’s why, he explains, he chose the stage name CantBuyDeem.
“Money can’t buy you everything—like love, respect, friends, you know,” he says. “So get you some, but also make sure you get your head right. That’s my life mission right there.”
Photos by ThoughtPoet of Unsocial Aesthetics (UAES), a digital creative studio and resource collective designed to elevate community-driven storytelling and social activism in Chicago and beyond
