Murmurs and the Sound of Tears: The Harmful Stigma of Mental Illness in Asian American Communities

By Anonymous / Winter 2021    

Almost three years ago, my brother attempted to take his life. It must have been May, maybe June—I honestly do not know. To this day, no one—not my brother, nor my mom—have told me the full story, the details are a flurry of fragments. Weeks after the “situation” I heard murmurs and the sound of tears escape through the space between the floor and the door of my mother’s bedroom. No one has yet to plainly state that my brother tried to kill himself. Its occurrence is an indisputable fact and yet it is treated like a secret with room to be challenged, my brother tried to take his life.

Two summers ago my brother, Junior, and I found ourselves sitting in the kitchen, him at the table while I was at the sink washing dishes. Junior was expressing how he felt like he could not do anything “right” in the eyes of my mom and sister. I argued maybe he was being a bit lazy, he could try harder to help out around the house. “No,”—something about his tone was different—“I can’t do anything right,” he repeated. That was when I felt tears pooling in my eyes and noticed the same in his. It was strange, had it been in a movie it would appear as though we were a pair of siblings sharing a moment together, but we had never done that before. Without Junior even saying it, we both knew what he was talking about.

My mother used to complain about having to drive my brother to therapy every week. The twenty minutes it took to get to the clinic always felt like an hour because she would ceaselessly talk about how tired she was from work and how she wished to do something more worthwhile with her time. According to her, there were more important things than to “be sad.” I could feel my brother shrink in his seat. At the time, I had no idea what he was going to therapy for, but even I could feel the callousness of her words. Mental health has never been at the forefront of her mind.

Despite having the resources to address this issue, mental health stigma continues to prevail in our society. Oftentimes, people with mental health illnesses are stereotyped as lazy or “crazy” over something they cannot control. Furthermore, these negative stereotypes are perpetuated through the portrayal of mentally-ill bodies in the media. My mother used to argue that we all have problems of our own to deal with, everybody is simultaneously going through something, and mental health should not be put on a pedestal when it is a “negative” condition. I understand that she did not have the same resources we grew up with, but if someone I knew—someone I cared for—was struggling, I would do all that I could to help them. When it comes to suicide in particular, outsiders can be so quick to choose cruelty over sympathy. Much to my dismay, suicide attempts have countlessly been labeled selfish calls of attention. The amount of times I have heard you just want to be noticed is beyond gutting and disheartening. Nevertheless, it is understandable that one would find themselves at this road of blame when that is what is commonly portrayed.

People of color are categorically more likely to suffer from mental health issues. As previously mentioned, the United States has the resources to assist people with mental health issues, but those with access are generally limited to the white, hegemonic class. Health is embedded in the conditions in which we live and work, so it is unsurprising that poorer communities (typically communities of color) are found to have declining health in comparison to their white, upperclass “neighbors.” Place determines what you are exposed to in terms of physical, social, and chemical factors; the conditions of these factors greatly influence one’s mental health. It is hard to know people are suffering when your friends, families, and neighbors are suffering in silence. We cannot show weakness.

It is difficult to remedy a problem when no one wants to confront it head-on. Pressures within the Asian-American community oftentimes keep those who need help from seeking it. Unlike the United States, which thrives on individualist culture, Asian Americans are taught to live by a collectivist mindset. Everything I do reflects on my family, and that reflects on their family, and so on. These weighty internalized pressures could keep anyone from doing anything if it meant appearing “weak.” According to Geoffrey Liu, a psychiatrist in the McLean Behavioral Health Partial Hospital Program, “Asian Americans see themselves as part of a group that seamlessly integrated in their new society. They characterize themselves as intelligent, industrious, and fully in charge of their lives,” as a result, “they ignored or denied symptoms” in order to remain focused on achieving success. I see this struggle in so much of my community, I see this in myself.

The lack of care sought out by Asian Aemricans can be attributed to the stigmatization of mental health. On top of notions of being “weak” there is the fear of being labeled “crazy.” I come from a big family, my grandmother on my father’s side has thirteen siblings. There is bound to be the “crazy” family, we were them. When my brother’s depression got super “bad”—enough to be noticeable by our pristine, almost snobby, relatives—we stopped attending gatherings. We disappeared for a while. My immediate relatives did not even know why, we just told them we were busy. The stigma alone kept my mom from wanting to show our faces, I cannot imagine how my brother felt. But honestly, I was a part of the problem, so maybe I would not have even noticed. Although it is easy to reason that Asian Americans forgo mental-health care due to the culture’s stigma, it would be egregious to ignore the implications of the continual perpetuation of the “model minority” myth as proposed by Kat Chow from “‘Model Minority’ Myth Again Used As A Racial Wedge Between Asians And Blacks”.

It would seem like a triumph to be on the receiving end of such a “prosperous” myth, but it only drives a greater wedge between proper care and the downturns of mental health. A study by the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration argues that Asian-American and Pacific Islanders (AAPI), are less likely to seek help than other races (Tanap). A driving reason is that the “model minority” myth mistakenly assumes great wealth and education of all AAPIs. This assumption in conjunction with family and cultural expectations “may lead you to feel you need to succeed, regardless of the toll it may take on you” (Tanap). This brings me back to the day my brother and I stood in the kitchen together. He felt like he could not do anything “right”. We are not the wealthiest, but we have the resources to perpetuate this myth. And how can one resist notions of being the perfect minority when it means others perceive us as the most prosperous, docile, hard-working, and just an overall “model” (Chow). Maybe at the time when assimilation was just about necessary to survive, did this myth have a little more foundation to sit on, but as a present society, we should be far from this mentality. We should not have to trade off our happiness, our mental stability, in order to conform to an imperfect ideal.

Middle school is undoubtedly a troubling time for anybody. Everyone is trying to be “perfect”. Despite being so young, I recall how hung up my peers and I were to embody the “model minority”. I went to school in Japan, most of the school’s population was Asian, so we were essentially our own community of up-and-coming perfection. My first run-in with mental health was in the sixth grade. I had a friend whose parents had decided to separate, being overseas on a military base, this was a pretty big deal. They would have to move back to the United States. I remember seeing him at school with his eyes all puffy because he had been crying for days. Teachers spoke to him in private and after some time, he had to leave school early. He came back days after with bandages covering his wrists. He did not have to tell us what had happened. He retreated from all of us, but still, he managed to do very well in class. That part always amazed me. He seemed so sad, yet he continued to succeed. We ended up dating a few years later—his name was Geo—and he told me that his parents made him do his homework at the hospital. He seems to be much better now, he goes to school in San Jose, but I still think about that. Even at his worst, he was expected to fulfill some trivial stereotype.

When I was younger, I used to suffer from a lot of allergies. It is nowhere near the same as depression, but my grandmother treated them as though they were. Medication for whatever reason can be extremely expensive, and although I am fortunate enough to have been able to afford it, it was never without my grandmother sniding, “Oh you think we’re rich? Only rich people have allergies! You would not last in the Philippines!” I would watch as my aunts, uncles, even my parents laugh at the comment. I laughed too, but I did not know what those words meant at the time. In a similar fashion, Gabbie Puzon details a mirrored story in the article, “‘Just a phase’: the mental health stigma in Asian cultures.” In the Daily Sundial paper, she chronicles an instance where she watched a Filipino variety show, “Eat Bulaga”,—a show that backgrounded my childhood—and an older host remarked, “Depression is just a made-up sickness for the elite!” This remark followed an interview in which a family shared the recent diagnosis of a grandmother with clinical depression. How stone cold does one have to be to make fun of someone else’s mental health, let alone on live nation television. First off, how is depression a made-sickness? Secondly, why is strictly applicable to the elite, and more specifically, white people? The very acceptance of mental health as in issue limited to the elite speaks on the immense stigma harbored by Asian cultures.

In most Asian countries, mental health is not a priority. As mentioned earlier, Asian cultures, and particularly Filipino culture, are shackled by the “model minority” myth in that they must embody resilience and honor (Puzon). To break away from this is critical, but is it even likely? In a culture that pedestals filial piety, how can we break away when the stigma is being perpetuated by our own family. The very people we are supposed to look up to, support, and model our lives after. My brother suffered for a long time, and I am certain his suffering had started months, potentially years, before the “incident.” I love my mom, but sometimes it is so difficult to see eye-to-eye with her knowing that the ideologies that guide her have harmed the very people I love, we love.

Even though it has been a few years since my brother attempted to take his life, any time it comes to my mind, I am viscerally shaken. Just thinking about it brings me to tears. Another study done by the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration has found that “suicide is the leading cause of death for Asian American and Pacific Islander youth aged 12-19 years old”. My brother would have been a part of this statistic. Just sitting on that idea feels morbid. We need to do better for one another. Doing “right” for the family should not be at the cost of our lives.

How do we measure our value in society? Is it in how much we contribute to our family? How little weakness we show? Our grades? Prior to the class, I would have spoken about my place in academia or what I am doing beyond the classroom to make the world better. But why does our value have to reach a global scale? I used to think that solidarity only meant grand acts of social movement. That is so wrong. Solidarity can be as simple as tenderness and a quick glance, letting someone know that I’m here for you. There is immense value in solidarity, regardless of how little or how large. I want my brother to know that there is value in him. I want my mom to know that there is value in seeking greater mental health.

My mother struggles to grapple with the importance of talk-therapy, or notions of therapy that reside outside of getting past it by stifling feelings, alone. In general, Asian-American communities must realize that we are only harming our friends and family through the continual stigmatization of mental health. Oftentimes, in history we wait too long to enact change. We do not have that time with this. Everyday people take their lives and I would like to believe that there could have been something done to stop it. When it comes to life, we have to act now. In thinking about mental health, I am strangely reminded of the rat race of life. Happiness seems to be a journey that has an end, but the path is nowhere in sight with all of the obstacles we willingly put across our path. The same goes for mental health. There are means available to us and to those struggling. We simply have to break away from the mindset that mental health is an issue of the elite. We have to dismantle the pressures and implications of the “model minority” myth. If we ignore the people and the resources that are there for us, we will live like those sad rats, chasing a life that will never come.

Mental health struggles are not a new phenomena to this generation. They have existed for as long as history has allowed it to. Much of the stigma surrounding mental health comes from our older generations. They have made it through much worse, so what do we have to be sad about? This mentality is beyond harmful and is the very reason why Asian cultures face so many struggles with mental health. If we are unable to speak with the people who are supposed to love and care for us, how are we to expect proper physicians—people who do not know us—to help us. Mental health struggles come in many forms and whether our older generations are aware of it or not, they have passed down generational trauma. At some point, we have to get to a place where we can simply talk about it, before any healing may commence.

My brother’s room is right next to mine. In an alternate reality, I could be alive today without him. That haunts me. Although I would never tell him, Junior is my best friend. If he had taken his life, we would have never gotten to that point in our relationship. I am sure we all know someone dear to us who has struggled with mental health. On the flip side, I am sure we all know people who think working on it is a waste of time. Especially during this pandemic, more and more people are finding themselves struggling with their mental health. Now more than ever, It is critical that we are there for each other. It is up to us to analyze the detrimental effects of stereotypes that are meant to bring up Asian-American communities, and realize why they lend themselves to more harm than good. It is up to us to educate our families, and showcase that seeking help is not a sign of weakness. There is great strength required to seek help in the first place, this should be celebrated. I cannot imagine what my life would be like without my brother, and I am so lucky that I do not have to. Unfortunately though, that is not the case for everyone, particularly those in Asian American communities. We must band together and show that mental health does not make us weak, getting through it as a community will make us stronger.

Works Cited

Chau, Victoria, and Roslyn Holliday-Moore. “Destigmatizing Mental Health in Asian American and Pacific Islander Communities.” SAMHSA Blog, 22 May 2019.

Chow, Kat. “'Model Minority' Myth Again Used As A Racial Wedge Between Asians And Blacks.” NPR, NPR, 19 Apr. 2017.

Cutts, Steve, director. Happiness. YouTube, YouTube, 24 Nov. 2017.

Puzon, Gabbie. “'Just a Phase': the Mental Health Stigma in Asian Cultures.” Daily Sundial, 24 Oct. 2017.

Tanap, Ryann. “Why Asian-Americans and Pacific Islanders Don't Go to Therapy.” NAMI, 25 July 2019.

Twohig, Niall. “Beyond a Life in the Red.” 25 Feb. 2021, San Diego.