David Harewood was born in Small Heath, Birmingham, in 1965, one of four children of Barbadian immigrants. Growing up largely in white surroundings, he absorbed and buried early experiences of racism rather than confronting them, later recalling a childhood memory of an elderly man's hostility that left him βdiscombobulatedβ without understanding why. He won a place at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art (RADA) at 18, seemingly on a clear path toward a successful acting career.
That path was violently interrupted at 23, shortly after graduating, when Harewood suffered a psychotic breakdown β weeks of blackouts, wandering London at night, and hearing voices, culminating in an episode so severe he had to be physically restrained by six police officers, sedated, and sectioned twice under the Mental Health Act. He has since spoken candidly about how the trauma of unprocessed racism, compounded by a mental health system that treats Black patients differently, contributed directly to his breakdown.
Harewood recovered, and his career resumed with remarkable force: in 1997 he became the first Black actor to play Othello at the National Theatre, and he went on to international recognition in Homeland, Supergirl and The Night Manager. Rather than keep his breakdown a private matter, Harewood chose to make it public, fronting the BAFTA-nominated BBC documentary Psychosis and Me in 2019 and publishing the acclaimed 2021 memoir Maybe I Don't Belong Here, using his own story to open a wider, urgently needed conversation about race, identity and Black mental health in Britain.
- Became the first Black actor to play Othello at the National Theatre, 1997
- Achieved international recognition for roles in Homeland, Supergirl and The Night Manager
- Fronted the BAFTA-nominated BBC documentary Psychosis and Me, helping destigmatise psychosis for a wide public audience
- Published the acclaimed memoir Maybe I Don't Belong Here, named a Book of the Year by The Observer and The Times
- Appointed MBE for services to drama
- Made his directorial debut on the final season of Supergirl
- A crisis doesn't have to be the end of the story. Sectioned at 23, Harewood went on to a decades-long, internationally celebrated acting career.
- Buried pain can resurface if never addressed. Harewood traces his breakdown partly to childhood racism he absorbed silently rather than confronted.
- Public honesty can be its own form of service. By fronting Psychosis and Me and writing his memoir, Harewood turned a private trauma into public education.
- Recovery is possible, and worth documenting. His work explicitly maps not just his breakdown, but the full arc back toward stability and success.