Mental health was never a topic that was brought up naturally in my house.
In many immigrant households, there seems to be an unspoken understanding that struggles are meant to be endured, not expressed. When mental health is brought up, the topic is often quickly dismissed with a shrug and the familiar phrase: “What will people say?”
That phrase, “log kya kahenge?”, carries weight. It’s not just about neighbors or relatives. It’s about preserving the image of strength, stability, and resilience that many immigrant families fought to build.
But what happens when that image comes at the cost of our mental well-being?
“I didn’t know how to explain I was hurting”
I interviewed several high school students from immigrant families, all from different cultures, and each of them shared stories that mirrored my own. Sara, a Pakistani-American sophomore, told me, “When I first brought up that I was feeling anxious, my mom said that I should just pray more… It felt like my feelings didn’t count because they weren’t visible.”
Another student, Luis, shared how his parents believed depression was a sign of weakness: “They told me I was being dramatic. But I struggled every day just to get out of bed.”
Their stories highlighted a common thread: silence. In many immigrant communities, mental health isn’t dismissed out of cruelty, but out of a belief system where survival has always come first. Our parents and grandparents grew up in situations where therapy was rare, mental illness was misunderstood and stigmatized, and where vulnerability was dangerous.
Why our elders think this way
To understand the stigma, we have to first understand the history.
For generations, mental health wasn’t something that could be safely acknowledged. In many parts of the world, mental health struggles were associated with shame, weakness, or isolation. Immigrants carried these beliefs with them, often unintentionally passing them down. For them, success meant security, education, and keeping the family together. Mental health was never part of their definition of success.
But times are changing and so are we.
How can we start the conversation
So how do we shift the narrative without disrespecting our families or their values?
Here are a few strategies that have helped me and my peers begin to build those bridges:
1. Start small and personal
Instead of saying, “I think I’m depressed,” try starting with, “Lately I’ve been feeling really overwhelmed and tired.” Use words that feel less clinical and more emotional; it’s often easier for elders to relate to stress and exhaustion than to formal diagnoses.
2. Connect it to physical health
Many immigrant families value physical health. Explaining how mental health affects sleep, appetite, energy, and the immune system can help build understanding.
3. Find a shared cultural value
Whether it’s the importance of family, faith, or service, frame mental wellness as something that helps you show up stronger for those you love. Say something like, “Taking care of my mental health helps me be a better daughter/student/friend.”
4. Educate gently
Share articles or stories that reflect your background.
5. Create space with others
If it’s not safe to open up at home yet, find community elsewhere. School counselors, clubs, and online mental health spaces can offer validation and support until you’re ready to have those tougher conversations at home.
I believe the cycle of silence ends with us. Our parents crossed oceans for a better life. Now it’s our turn to make sure that “better” includes emotional wellness.
Let’s keep talking, even if it’s hard. Even if it feels awkward. Even if we hear “What will people say?”, because what we say matters too.
