Did My Asian Culture Make Me Depressed?
Depression has always been a part of my life. These feelings of hopelessness and emptiness coat my core life memories and it has become a source of comfort, familiarity, and motivation.
I recently came across “Maybe You Need to Have More Fun” by
where she talks about human flourishing. She relates happiness to different cultures and it made me wonder - Am I more susceptible to depression because of my cultural background?We have witnessed, for example, that more emotionally expressive cultures (like the US, Australia, and many Latin American countries) tend to be happier than less emotionally expressive (like Eastern Europe, many Asian countries, and Russia). Comparing the two, Dutch social psychologist Geert Hofstede said the former are socially free to enjoy life and have fun, as a result they tend to have a higher degree of happiness and optimism and emphasize leisure time and freedom of expression. But the latter suppress emotional gratification through strict social norms, as a result they tend to be less happy and more pessimistic, they focus on duty and discipline over leisure and enjoyment.
Growing up in the 90s as an emotionally repressed Asian in the emotionally expressive land of Australia was conflicting. For example, hugging and saying “I love you” was a rare sight among my family, whereas my Western friend’s family would openly hug or say “I love you” to each other in front of strangers - how strange. Navigating which social norms were appropriate in different situations was a lengthy and embarrassing process of trial and error. These experiences significantly shaped my outlook on life, confidence, and personality.
The Chinese Immigrant Story
Depression is a complex combination of social, psychological, and biological factors that can occur in people who have gone through adverse life events, such as living during the 1966 China Revolution or immigrating overseas. As Chinese citizens fought for more freedom from the government in the 1980s, many decided to immigrate abroad to Western countries for better lives - including my parents. Language barriers, discrimination, uncertainty, loneliness, and tight finances were a daily struggle and many went back to China, unable to continue living in tough conditions. Those who stayed persevered through adversity and developed a strong skin. These are my parents, the 1st generation of immigrants who kept moving forward without the luxury of time or money to understand depression.
My experience is different, as a 2nd generation immigrant I don’t have the language barrier, unfamiliarity, or lack of support to worry about. My adverse life events were my parents divorce and model minority stereotypes. When I expressed sadness about these events it was often met with denial since this was their usual way of coping with adversity. Without any outlet for my emotions, I repressed my feelings and lost my ambition for life. I was paralysed when making decisions so I let other people make them for me and after a decade of sleepwalking I found myself incredibly unhappy with my life. I started therapy after hearing about it from my Western friends and it helped me understand that my cultural background played a significant role in my Depression.
Mental Health Stigma in Asian Cultures
Being diagnosed with Depression was embarrassing. Mental health was never discussed in my family, so I kept it a secret - afraid of the stigma and shame that they raised a broken child. It took a few years of therapy sessions to overcome my emotional insecurity. As I began to understand mental health and gain self-awareness, it was no longer a taboo topic for me and I started opening up to my Western friends who shared their experiences with mental health in return. Suddenly I felt understood, less alone, and could make closer connections.
Opening up to family was a different experience. Talking about emotions, past decisions, and their consequences was awkward and often met with defensiveness. But I didn’t want to give up, knowing they went through adverse times as well. As my listening and communication skills got better through therapy and conversations with friends, I was able to express my feelings and past trauma with my family. Over time, they started sharing their experience growing up in China, immigrating to Australia, and raising me. I began to learn about the Chinese immigrant story and by gaining context, I can heal that inner child and learn to accept my past.
Moving forward
As an only child without many similar peers, I believed for years that this was something only I experienced. It was only recently that I noticed (or perhaps sought out) similar 2nd generation immigrant stories that have been comforting to hear and inspired me to share my story.
Depression is still an ongoing battle. I constantly remind myself to stay active, go outside, speak kinder to myself, and take it one day at a time to avoid slipping into a depression rut. It’s a lot of mental energy to stay afloat so having support people, going to therapy, and consuming similar stories makes it easier to persevere and move forward. Here are 3 stories that have inspired me:
Have you noticed any cultural influences on your mental health?
How do you think your upbringing has shaped your outlook on life and mental well-being?
What challenges have you faced in discussing mental health with family members?
Good on you for writing this. My story mirrors yours in a couple of ways; I'm also a second generation child whose parents immigrated to a more affluent Western country. After graduation from a very prestigious college in the U.S., I experienced a severe depression that left me unemployed and more or less disabled for about a year. What followed was a journey of volunteering, minimum wage jobs, questioning my self worth, and taking life one step at a time.
I grew up in a fairly nondescript suburb and had a mostly normal childhood, but my parents were like fire and water in their own ways. My mother was a social butterfly if anything- she learned English surprisingly fast and was just as accepted in American spaces as in immigrant ones. My father was the bookish, educated type with a quiet disposition. But both of them were capable of intensely terrifying displays of emotion when pushed, which they succeeded at doing with each other quite frequently. They were at each other's throats for most of my entire childhood and young adulthood, although it has mellowed a tiny bit as of this writing.
It wasn't that they were incapable of emotion or support; if anything, my mother was never afraid of saying "I love you". Unfortunately, this usually only happened after we'd had a fight over something or other, and when you are a second-generation immigrant getting into fights with your parents, it is like bringing a knife to a gun fight. The "I love you"s, while important, seemed to lose their comfort when they were accompanied by unpredictable mood changes and outbursts of anger (sometimes getting physical, though this was thankfully rare.)
Being around eggshells with them all the time probably didn't help me being an introvert and being shy to the point of anxiety, which did not help my ability to date, make friends, or form any kind of meaningful human relationship for a long time. I am pretty fortunate that many of my friendships were initiated by other people who took the time to get to know me despite me being a shy, awkward kid back then, and I'm grateful for that.
After doing well in high school and being accepted to college, I will be the first to admit that I let myself go, academically and socially. I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted for the first time in a while, but I found that that freedom mattered little when I hadn't really built up healthy studying and self-affirmation habits, or how to interact with other human beings. I spent a lot of time in my room watching youtube videos and being jealous of people who were making friends, getting good grades, and being chosen for prestigious internships. This all came to a head after graduation. What triggered it was something minor- I think it was looking at a friend's facebook or linkedin profile- but I remember something in me just snapping. And then I broke for a year.
I won't bore you with the details of the therapy, the fights, the long days and nights looking for jobs and trying not to be bitter and feeling like my life was over. My parents were actually supportive for longer than I expected, but as Alphonse Daudet wrote, "Pain is always new to the sufferer, but loses its originality for those around him". There was a limit to their patience and when I didn't simply just get better, there were some bitter fights that dwarfed anything in my childhood. I will not deny that I came close to touching some dark places during that time.
It has been years since then. I have picked up the pieces, a little bit. I managed to get a job in a big city- not a well-paid one, but it was better than staying in bed all day. I am now in a pretty good grad school, where the same concerns about not being as well off as my friends and classmates and peers is rearing its head, even as I acknowledge the progress it took to get to that point. Perhaps even more so, now that I am at the age where marriage and houses and kids are on the table. I also experienced some health concerns and had to realize that my body is not as invincible as it used to be at 17.
To a certain degree, I have also had to accept the role of my culture in my depression while at the same time letting it go. As Gordon Livingston famously said, the statute of limitations has expired on most of our childhood traumas. I would be lying if I said I have entirely forgiven my family for not being the family I wished I could have had, but I also know with the benefit of hindsight that I'm aware both of them loved me in their own ways and were doing the best they could. It has also helped that I have become aware that no one- American, Asian, African- is immune from mental health distress. I read a lot of David Burns, Tara Brach, and Marcus Aurelius. I saw a bunch of therapists (some of which were more helpful than others). I had to learn to keep looking straight ahead. I still do sometimes. My most recent substack post is on mental health. It's still an ongoing journey.
Feel free to ask me any questions if you need more info.
As a first-generation Asian American, I would say that my upbringing created a lot of frustration in this regard because we were a 'sweep everything under the rug and pretend it's fine' household. I was much more explosive and angry, but I also found solace in reading, writing, theatre, and music. Eventually, I got into self-help or self-development which greatly transformed my outlook on life and helped me navigate my feelings and forgive everyone involved. xo