Dr. Jyothsna S. Bhat :
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore.”
Neha was 20-years-old and identified as Indian American. She had come to me to help her process her relationship with her family, particularly her mother, and the effect it was having on her mental health.
Neha spent most of the session in tears, unable to speak without sobbing. She alternated between sharing her concerns, admitting how good it felt to talk about her problems to someone, and feeling immense guilt for coming to see me at all.
“I don’t think I can do this after today,” she said, in clear distress and palpable shame. “My mom told me she will disown me if I ever think of doing something like this.” She saw herself as weak, and felt she was neglecting her mother’s advice to “stop being negative” and “pray more.”
As she got up to leave, she promised earnestly that she would return. She never did.
Neha was one of my first South Asian clients, and my first clinical exposure to the stigma that mental health issues carry in many South Asian cultures and families. The disheartening reality is there are millions of Nehas out there, men and women who are unable to seek help because of deeply entrenched belief systems and cultural barriers that mischaracterize mental health concerns as weakness.
Over the past several years, I have seen so many misconceptions about therapy in people of all backgrounds. But it is undeniable that for a number of cultural reasons, Americans of South Asian descent (colloquially called Desis) have a particularly difficult time with these issues, which causes many to avoid therapy and engage in harmful coping mechanisms.
According to a study by Masoud, Okazaki, and Takeuchi (2009), one in five South Asians reported experiencing a mood or anxiety disorder in their lifetime. Additionally, US-based South Asian youth were found to be at greater risk for suicide than other minority groups. It is possible the actual numbers are even higher.
As an Indian American myself, I have seen these issues in my own family and friends circles, both in the US and in India. It was experiences like this, in addition to having participated in therapy in the past myself, that caused me to take up the cause of combating mental health stigma in my community.
South Asian voices in the US around these issues are growing louder and new voices are emerging. The number of South Asian therapists, mental health advocacy groups, and social media platforms has exploded. There are incredible organizations such as Mann Mukti, SAKHI, SAALT, The Blindian Project, and numerous state-wide groups, across the country where SA folks can access mental health and domestic violence information, providers, education, and resources. South Asians in the medical, legal, and entertainment communities have stepped forward about their own issues, joined seminars, and given mental health a platform.
Yet there is much more work to be done, both in clinical practice and in families, to overcome barriers and individual struggles. The South Asian journey towards the acceptance of mental health afflictions is a challenging one, riddled with contradictions, silence, ignorance, embarrassment, and shame. I hope to amplify both the struggles and the solutions, to bring other voices to the conversation, to educate and advocate, and to connect my community’s issues to our universal aspiration for health and happiness.
(Courtesy: Psychology Today).
