The radio show taking on California’s youth mental health crisis

At the 30-minute mark of her weekly radio show, Kennia Camacho strings together a list of events that are triggering her anxiety and stress.

The teenage daughter of an immigrant made clear in a late January broadcast that the president’s executive order to end birthright citizenship, the tech billionaires front-and-center at the inauguration and talk of dismantling the United States Department of Education have made her feel terrified and confused. She feels powerless to prevent the possible deportation of family, shocked by the ease of TikTok’s disabling — and then its sudden return — and unsure if she will continue to receive financial aid to attend college. Sharing her feelings and those of others has become the hallmark of her show, Crisis Communicator.

Camacho then switches to her listeners’ concerns. She reads aloud their names and worries, or what she refers to as their multifaceted “crisis” — a broken phone, family drama and, literally, spilled milk. She laughs, but never dismisses what anyone shares. That’s the point.

Crisis Communicator has become a place for Los Angeles teens to share how they cope with anxiety, stress and depression. This hour-long broadcast is one way of helping California youth through what has been called a mental health crisis.

Young women, and Latinas in particular, more frequently experience anxiety, depression and stress than their male counterparts. In California, girls are 1.5 times more likely than boys to report feeling nervous, hopeless, restless, worthless, depressed or that everything feels like an effort, according to a UCLA study. Nationwide, in 2021, three in five girls felt persistent feelings of sadness and hopelessness — double the rate in boys, according to a 2023 CDC study. Adult Latinas are less likely to receive support for mental health needs than whites, according to research by private health providers and government agencies.

Teenagers in California have told mental health experts they want therapists in their neighborhoods and schools who look like — and understand — them. These young people want to empower friends to support one another. They also want an end to phone hotlines that lead to transferred calls instead of help. Sharing their feelings of anxiety, stress or depression with people who can offer solutions, guidance and help is also important to them.

That’s what Camacho’s show tries to offer.

The format of Crisis Communicator, which first aired in August 2023, is simple, Camacho explained. The show begins with a song or two. She prefers upbeat music — like Harry Styles’ “Late Night Talking” or “POV” by Arianna Grande — and avoids sad music. When the music concludes, Camacho talks about what’s been going on that week in her life. At the 30-minute mark, Camacho plays Brenda Lee’s “Emotions,” a downbeat, orchestral pop song released 46 years before the teenager was born. The lyrics underscore why Camacho wants to talk: “Emotions/What are you doin?/Oh don’t you know/don’t you know you’ll be my ruin.” The song signals the transition to talk about what Camacho calls this week’s crisis — what is triggering her anxiety, causing stress or even depression.

Camacho's guests include friends, family and radio station staffers, recently including Calista Piñeda, KQBH archivist and programming intern.

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Isabel Avila

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Capital & Main

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Crisis Communicator can be silly and irreverent, like when Camacho described her period feeling like her uterus was falling out. That she’s often giggling and laughing eases tension among guests and listeners, said Stephanie Monte, youth programming director at the Boyle Heights Arts Conservatory, a visual and media arts center that provides workforce development training. The Conservatory runs KQBH-FM (101.5), the low-power radio station home to Camacho’s show.

“There’s a joy that breaks up the sense of crisis, and it carries through with her and her guests being supportive,” said Julian Montenegro, program coordinator at the Conservatory.

Mental health experts highlight the value of young people having constructive conversations about anxiety, stress and depression to release some of those feelings. Monte, at the Conservatory, notes that “there’s tons of value in a one-hour expressive outlet. ... She’s using the tools we have and helping other people.”

Crisis Communicator didn’t begin as a tool for teen mental health. The show’s title is a confession — Camacho said she felt, at the time, that she was always in crisis. She also likes to talk. So Crisis Communicator seemed like a good radio handle. But after the show’s first transmission, Camacho discovered that airing her feelings of being overwhelmed was a good way to assuage them.

The night of her first show, Camacho’s grandmother Clara was hospitalized. She died the next day. The following Friday, Crisis Communicator became a tribute to Clara. The station signal reaches only about 10 miles, but episodes stream online too. Family members in Mexico City, where her grandmother is from, listened live. Amid their collective grief, it was cathartic, according to Camacho.

She often hosts guests, including friends, family and radio station staff. They talk about their week, gossip and laugh. In August, Camacho and three friends commiserated over high school classmates leaving town to attend college elsewhere. They comforted each other, noting that the friends who remained in Los Angeles are still together. When one casually mentioned feeling like a loser for not having friends at work, the others responded with a positive affirmation: “Look in the mirror and say, ‘I’m not a loser.’”

The same year Crisis Communicator debuted, a survey and report on youth mental health was commissioned by the California Health and Human Services Agency and the Children and Youth Behavioral Health Initiative, a one-time $4.6 billion investment to improve mental health services for young Californians. Youth at the Center is based on interviews conducted at nearly 50 meetings across the state. Young people in places like Los Angeles, Monterey, Oakland, San Diego, San Francisco, Santa Clara County and Central California suggested how adults and mental health professionals might help. Comments from meetings with more than 600 people were condensed, in the report, into 12 distinct calls to action. They include reducing stigmas around mental health, improving access to therapy and support for young people and their parents.

Three themes are presented in the report: shifting thinking around mental health, reimagining services and transforming mental health systems. Important elements include providing young people more choice in their own treatment, and doing so in their neighborhoods and communities. There is also an emphasis on doing this with people they can relate to, and in ways that avoid certain types of judgment — much like on Crisis Communicator.

Camacho's show, Crisis Communicator, broadcasts locally on KQBH-FM and is streamed live online.

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Isabel Avila

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Capital & Main

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Camacho said she went through a four-month bout with depression that ended in December. She tried to avoid feeling numb by focusing on her classes, work and staying out late — “constantly moving,” as she explained.

But Camacho grew exhausted from trying to avoid her feelings, and her mother, Erindida, told her she was increasing her stresses by running away from them. Since then, she has been resting at home when she’s not at school or work. Camacho climbs into bed by 6 p.m. and watches "Bridgerton," a Netflix soap opera with lots of teen characters and courtship drama that she calls her “telenovela,” even though it’s not a Spanish-language show.

On Friday, Jan. 24, Camacho reflected on her week instead of sharing about her recent bout with depression. Her aunt lived in an apartment less than one mile from the Eaton Fire and fled to a hotel to evacuate. Within a few days, Camacho’s tía returned to her apartment despite having no power or water, and the intense stench of smoke. The family spent a weekend cleaning, but they couldn’t get the smell out of the walls. She worried about her aunt’s health. Separately, immigration raids had begun across the country that week. She has family members who are undocumented. She’s afraid they’ll be deported.

Those stories and feelings are Camacho’s, but they also reflect the concerns of many young people across Los Angeles, California and the United States. Holding onto such feelings won’t help her or her family, so she’s glad she has a way to try to process them.

“For me, it’s been my outlet,” Camacho said.

For others, Crisis Communicator can be an outlet as well.

This article was produced as a project for the USC Annenberg Center for Health Journalism’s 2024 California Health Equity Fellowship.

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